I wince as the fibers in my heart rip even further apart.
“It was never meant to be,” I tell myself.
Maybe not, but it feels like it was.
No matter what affirmation or sentence of strength I say aloud, it doesn’t resonate inside my brain. My inner monologue is much different and just as insistent.
I flop down on the couch and look at my phone. He’s called me three times tonight.
I close my eyes and hear his sweet, Southern voice saying my name. His smile is imprinted in my mind for the rest of time. My skin tingles as I remember the heat of his touch.
Even if it was all in my imagination, I liked it. And I’ll treasure it for the rest of time because I’m not answering his calls. I’m not listening to his voice messages. There’s no need for him to try to explain why he doesn’t want me.
A knock raps on my door.
My heartbeat quickens as I get to my feet. I’m too nervous to ask who it is.
Before I can get across the room, I hear Sienna’s voice from the other side.
“Blaire? It’s Sienna. Open up.”
I flip the lock and open the door. My brother’s girlfriend is standing on the other side with a bag in each hand. Her eyes are filled with concern.
“Hey,” she says softly.
I try to speak but end up opening my mouth and making a sound that’s half-laugh and half-sigh.
Sienna steps into my apartment and places the bags on the floor. She then pulls me into the biggest hug.
I’m taken aback at first. Sienna and I have never hugged. But as she holds me tight and fills me with good energy, I find myself hugging her back.
Finally, she pulls away.
“It took all of this to get me an invitation to your apartment,” she jokes.
“I would’ve invited you without having to endure all of this.” I walk toward the living room. “Come on in.”
“I brought things.”
“What kind of things?” I ask, sitting on the sofa again.
She sits next to me and places the bags on the coffee table. She reaches inside and pulls out a bottle of wine, a giant bar of chocolate, and a bag of microwave popcorn.
“If I failed to be clear, this isn’t a slumber party,” I tell her, laughing. “I have to wallow tonight. I mustfeel to heal.”
“What the heck is that?Feel to heal.”
“It’s a thing I learned in therapy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, no worries about this being a slumber party. If I tried to stay here, Walker would come and get me. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up anyway.”
I fall back into the pillows and fake cry. “Does he know about Holt?”
“I tried super hard not to tell him anything. I told him it was your business and your story to tell—or not. But you know how he can be.”
I stick out my bottom lip. “Is he on a plane to Savannah right now?”
“He probably would’ve been if I hadn’t taken his credit card.” She winks. “But no, really, he’s worried about you. He wants you to call him.”
