“I’m so fucking stupid,” I sob into the phone, curling tighter around myself. “I didn’t want to believe him. But I did. He said he loved me, Pipes. Loved me. Me—” I hiccup embarrassingly loud.
“You’re not stupid,” Piper says firmly. “And you’re not the first person to get their heart broken, Lee.”
The nickname—the one only family uses—makes fresh tears spill over. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” My words slur together, wine and exhaustion blurring the edges. “It’s not like we were actually dating. It’s not like it was real.”
“Wasn’t it?”
That stops me cold. Was it? Has any of it been real? The ice cream at midnight, the way he looked at me when I pulled that knife, the words whispered against my skin in the dark make my throat close up.
“I don’t know anymore,” I admit, voice small. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s just… him using me.”
There’s a long pause from Piper’s end, and when she speaks again, her voice has that laser-focused quality that means she’s already formulating a battle plan.
“I’m coming to you,” she announces. “I’ll be there before seven.”
“Pipes, you can’t just—”
“I already am,” she cuts me off. “Enzo’s having the jet prepped as we speak.”
Of course he is. Because Piper married the kind of man who has a private jet at his disposal. The kind of man who would move Heaven and Earth for her with a single word.
“I don’t deserve you,” I mumble, my head suddenly too heavy to hold up. I let it fall back against the wall with a thunk.
“Yes, you do,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice even through my drunken haze. “Now drink some water and go to bed. I’ll text when I land.”
Relief and embarrassment war in my chest as I hang up. Relief that she’s coming, that I won’t have to face another day alone with my thoughts. Embarrassment that I’ve dragged her into my mess, that I’m so pathetic I can’t even handle a little rejection without falling apart.
“You’re a fucking disaster,” I tell myself as I struggle to my feet, the room tilting dangerously. My fingers are numb from clutching the phone too long, pins and needles shooting through them as I set it down.
I should clean up. Piper can’t see the apartment like this. But I only manage to gather the bottles into a somewhat orderly line on the counter before the effort becomes too much. The rest will have to wait. My bed calls to me, a siren song of oblivion I can’t resist.
It feels like I’ve just lain down when light suddenly streams through my windows, harsh and unforgiving. My phone buzzes under my pillow.
Pipes: Just landed. Be there soon.
Oh God. I scramble out of bed, my head pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat. I have minutes, not hours, to make myself look less like the human disaster I’ve become.
I splash water on my face, wincing at my reflection. The dried mascara is a lost cause, smudged under my eyes in dark half-moons. My hair is a rat’s nest of tangles. There’s a wine stain on my t-shirt that definitely wasn’t there when I put it on.
The doorbell rings as I’m frantically trying to brush my teeth and pick up stray socks simultaneously. I freeze, toothbrush hanging from my mouth, panic rising in my chest. Too late.
I hear the key in the lock—the spare I gave Piper when I moved in. The door opens and closes, followed by the sound of heels clicking on hardwood.
“Lee?” Piper’s voice carries through the apartment, crisp and clear like mountain air. “Where are you?”
I step into the hallway, toothbrush still in hand, and there she is—Piper Russo in all her glory. She looks like she’s stepped out of a magazine spread, wearing a cream-colored, sleeveless shirt tucked into tailored trousers, not a wrinkle in sight despite just getting off a plane.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek braid, and she’s carrying what looks like breakfast in a white paper bag.
The contrast between us couldn’t be starker. Me, disheveled and hungover, with toothpaste at the corner of my mouth. Her, polished and put-together as always.
“Oh, Lee,” she says softly, taking in the state of me.
Something in her tone—not pity, not judgment, just pure Piper understanding—breaks the last thread holding me together. The toothbrush clatters to the floor as I crumple, shoulders shaking with fresh sobs that seem to come from somewhere deeper than before.
In two quick strides, Piper is there, arms wrapping around me, the familiar scent of her perfume enveloping me like a security blanket.
“I got you,” she whispers against my hair as I cling to her, probably ruining her perfect blouse with my mess. “I’m here now.”
