A bolt of pain stabs through my chest. I managed not to think about Jasper for an entire ten minutes—an accomplishment, really. But now my streak is broken.
Sophie probably notices my change in demeanour because she scoots closer to me and rubs my arm. “Oh, honey, I know.” The entire reason she’s here tonight is to not leave me alone as I navigate this shitty breakup. She’s been coming over or inviting me to her place as often as she humanly can. Like I said: supermom.
I burst into tears without meaning to. Sophie hugs me close. “Things were going so well, Soph,” I cry into her shoulder. “They really were.” At least from my point of view. Jasper leaving me really did come out of nowhere, although the pain of it was no surprise. You don’t get over a five-year relationship that easily.
If he had at least given me warnings or signs or told me something was up … maybe I could have fixed things. But when I’d begged him to give me an explanation or to reconsider leaving, he’d been absolutely clear:
No, Avery. I’m done. I’m moving on. So should you.
It’s been a month since those poison-like words came out of his mouth, and the retreat website project popped up just in time to distract me and give me a much-needed boost of revenue now that Jasper would no longer help me pay the bills.
But I’d been staring at a blank page for an entire week now.
I was pulling from nothing. A void.
At that point, I had two choices: either I could give up and refund the payment for the project, which would leave me pretty much strapped for cash, or I could pull myself together and do the damn project, no matter how broken my heart and mind felt. Which is why I need this change of environment.
“I’m here,” Sophie whispered as she stroked my hair. “You know I won’t ever leave you, right? Unlike that asshole.”
“I know,” I sob. “And now I just booked a month-longworkation, and I’ll basically be broke.” I would have been broke anyway if I’d said no to the project. Unfortunately, that change of scenery I need isn’t free. But I’d rather be broke next to the sea with a project to do than broke in my sad one-bedroom with nothing but time to contemplate my failed relationship.
Plus, this dingy apartment reminds me of Dad almost as much as it reminds me of Jasper. Dad’s the one who rented the truck and helped me move out of the university dorms, along with Mom and Jasper. I can’t help but remember him crashing against the couch, exhausted after we’d finally gotten everything inside. Or how he’d taken us to his favourite Asian-fusion eatery after we’d all showered and changed from our sweaty clothes.
That, and I’m reminded of him every time I look through my window at the workaholic strapped to his office chair across the street.
“Well, I didn’t want to comment on how expensive this place is,” Sophie responded. “You know you’ve got a place to crash if you ever need it, right?”
The first thing Sophie had said to me when I’d told her about the Jasper thing—other than some obscenities about the quality of his character—was that she had a spare guest room if I had to move out and needed some time to find an affordable place.
But the idea of living nestled in my best friend’s family, even for just a short while, fills me with dread. I love spending as much time as I can with Gwen, but I can’t imagine going to bed and waking up in the same house as those two little girls.
Seeing Sophie tuck Gwen into bed while Matt rocked baby Heather would only serve as a glum reminder of how utterly single and alone I truly am. Of how much I stand out like a sore thumb in their perfect little family unit.
Of how much I hunger to have the same within my grasp.
But there is no way I can say that to Sophie. Best friend or no, some things are just out of bounds. And telling a woman who’s four months post-partum that you’re envious of her baby is just one of them.
I’ll just have to make sure I have a new project lined up after this one so I can make rent.
So I force a weak smile and respond with a simple: “Of course.”
God, I hope I’m doing the right thing.
CHAPTER2
Aloud hiss pulls me from the edge of sleep. I sit up from the backseat of my car and peek out the window. There’s no one else in the Walmart parking lot except an old camper van, which looks exactly like the one Dad bought during the summer when I was nine.
I ignore the tightness of my chest and look around some more until I hear the hiss again. It’s coming from the other side of the lot. I nervously shift to the passenger-side window and finally see the source of the sound: two cats hashing it out.
I sigh in relief and sink back into the cheap fabric seat of my Kia Rio. It’s far from comfortable, but it will have to do. I’ve parked here in Woodstock, New Brunswick, to rest for the night, even though I’ve already taken several naps and stops along the way. I couldn’t make it two hours along the Saint Lawrence River before stopping; I’m not used to driving long distances.
This nine-hour trip is taking its toll on me.
The smart thing to do would have been to book a hotel room somewhere at the midway point. Perhaps Fredericton or Moncton would have been a good place to stop. But I’ve already splurged $4,000 on a month-long stay in a seaside cabin, so I’m counting my pennies and hoping I don’t regret my decision.
Which is why I’m lying here, trying to fall asleep to the soundtrack of hissing cats in a Walmart parking lot, hoping that whoever is sleeping in that old camper van isn’t some sort of creep.
My lips twist into a bittersweet smile as I recall the first time my family and I took the van out for a camping and fishing trip that summer. We took my best friend Logan along with us like we’d done the summer before, and he was just as excited about the camper van as I was. I shut my eyes briefly at the thought of Logan, willing myself to think about something—someone—else, but the memory persists.
