thirty-seven
Cassandra
Jenna’s been at workall day, and I haven’t stopped pacing her apartment, impatiently waiting for her to get home.
When Harley and I left the hotel, I rushed straight here, knowing she left a key out for me. The buzzer to her intercom has gone off more times than I care to admit. Each time, a different package has been delivered, thanks to her online shopping addiction, and each buzz has left me a little more on edge and defeated than the last.
The sound of her keys rattling from behind the door stops me in my tracks and I stare at it blankly, waiting to see her face.
When our eyes lock, her expression softens and my lips tremble until she says, "Oh, Cassandra," and I burst into tears. Tears that have been eagerly fighting to fall all day, but I haven’t allowed.
Jenna’s face, and those tiny two words, were all the permission I needed to crumble. And now they won’t stop.
I’ve never been able to hide my emotions from my best friend.
"Oh boy, this is going to be a doozy."
Closing her front door, she drops her purse to the ground and ushers me to sit down on the couch that I’d forgotten existed until now.
My body melting into the cushions she’s propped up behind me.
"Let me get into comfy clothes and wash this hair off me before you break it all down," she says, rushing to her bedroom to retrieve clothes, before turning on her shower.
She takes roughly eight minutes to have a quick shower, wash off all of her clients’ hair clippings, and slip into a pair of black leggings that show her thick curves perfectly, paired with a grey, oversized t-shirt.
I know she wears oversized clothes because she’s self-conscious, but I wish she saw herself the way I and so many others see her. I wished she put the same energy into loving herself as she puts into loving the people around her.
"Wine?" she asks, heading toward the kitchen that’s attached to her lounge room. Her apartment is small, but she doesn’t need much else for just her.
"Got anything stronger?" Tucking my legs underneath me, I know we’re in for a long night and wine just won’t cut it.
Not this time.
"Margaritas it is."
Moving around her kitchen in silence, she takes out the tequila, ice, lemon mix, and some salt for the rim while I lay down on her couch, staring at her ceiling.
Replaying the last twenty-four hours in my head over and over on a loop.
How could I have not seen it sooner?
Austin bears a strong resemblance to his mom, and Megan to their dad.
But Harley?
Harley has his dad’s eyes.
Theirdad’s eyes.
My body shudders, my stomach is in knots.
It was right in front of my face this whole time. I obsessed over Harley’s eyes.
"Here you go," Jenna says as she hands me our iced margarita while placing the jug of the remaining mix in front of us on the coffee table, and I sit up, taking a deep, shaky breath.
"From the beginning."
She turns to face me and squeezes my hand, encouraging me to let it all out. And that’s exactly what I do.
