“He didn’t mean all those things, right?” I whisper to Jhett, who tilts his head in that adorable way that usually makes me smile. Today, it just makes me want to cry—again. “He couldn’t have possibly meant all the horrible things he said to me.”
I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders and glance around our apartment. It looks about as wrecked as I feel. There are empty ice cream containers on the coffee table, tissues scattered across the floor, and a pile of clean clothes in the corner that I was supposed to fold two days ago.
Genna hasn’t said anything about the mess, but I know it’s bothering her. She’s been tiptoeing around me since we got back from her parents’ house on Thanksgiving.
Ugh.Thanksgiving. More like disaster-giving.
After Garrett stormed out, Dylan convinced me to go back inside and have some real pie. Then Genna drove me home later that night, since my boyfriend—err, ex-boyfriend—left me stranded. I couldn’t even find it in me to be angry about that at the time. I was too numb. In a state of shock after everything he said.
But once the shock wore off ... the embarrassment settled in. I think that’s why I can’t stop crying. I just feel so ...pathetic.
I reach for my phone, checking it for the hundredth time today. No texts. No calls. Nothing. Usually by now, I would’ve heard something from Garrett.
His silence is so loud.
The sound of keys in the door makes me straighten up slightly. I hastily wipe the tears from my eyes, though I know it’s pointless.
“Hey,” Genna calls out, kicking the door shut behind her. I hear the rustle of grocery bags, followed by her footsteps. When she appears in the doorway to the living room, her face softens. “Oh, Chey.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, though the crack in my voice betrays me.
“Yeah, you looktotallyfine,” she says as she drops her purse. “That’s why your eyes are so puffy that they’re practically swollen shut.”
I sniff. “It’s just allergies.”
“To what? Being dumped by jerks?” Genna plops down beside me on the couch, causing Jhett to readjust his position at my feet. “You’ve been crying again.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could help it,” I mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“What did he say to you?” she asks, her tone softening. “When you followed him outside, before he left. You never told me.”
My throat tightens. I choose to distract myself by picking at a loose thread on my blanket to avoid looking at her. “He said that I ... embarrass him. That I never take anything seriously. That I’m stuck in some childish bubble and refuse to grow up.”
“That’s absolute garbage,” Genna retorts.
“He said...” I swallow hard, my voice cracking. “He said I was too much. Maybe I am.” The tears start again, and I angrily swipe at them with the back of my hand. “Maybe that’s why no one ever sticks around. Maybe that’s why my dad left before I was born, why my mom moved to Europe without me, why Grandma’s gone, why every relationship I’ve ever had falls apart.”
Genna’s expressions hardens. “Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there before you spiral any further into this pity party.”
“It’s not a pity party if it’s true,” I argue weakly.
“It’snottrue,” she fires back. “Your dad was a coward who couldn’t handle the responsibility of parenthood. Your mom moved to Europe because she fell in love with a rich surgeon.Your grandma didn’t choose to die. And Garrett?” She practically spits his name. “Garrett is a pretentious, self-centered jerk who treated you like an accessory when it was convenient and a disappointment when it wasn’t.”
I flinch at her bluntness, but she doesn’t stop.
“You know what your problem is? It’s not that you’re ‘too much.’ It’s that you picked a man who wanted to change you, then twisted yourself into knots trying to be the person he wanted instead of just being who you are.” She leans forward, her green eyes intense. “And who you are is pretty dang amazing.”
I look away, clutching a fresh tissue in my trembling hands. “He said I’m childish.”
“Why? Because you and my brother play pranks on each other? Because you laugh too loud? Because you’re not self-absorbed, or obsessed with status like Garrett is?” Genna shakes her head. “All those qualities are what make you fun, Chey. It’s what makes you ... you.”
I want to believe her, I do.
But Garrett’s criticisms have burrowed too deep under my skin.
“You’ve been through several breakups with him before,” Genna says, softer now. “What is it aboutthisone that’s hitting you so hard?”
I fidget with the tissue, tearing it into tiny pieces. “I don’t know. Maybe because it was in front of your family. Or maybebecause...” I hesitate, embarrassed by what I’m about to say aloud. “I really thought he was gonna propose soon. He kept hinting at it after his promotion.”
