I exhale, tension spilling out of my shoulders even though my adrenaline is still buzzing.
It’s fine.I’m fine.
“Okay. Thank you.” I glance at my watch. “I’m actually running short on time. Can I schedule a replacement on my way out?”
“No problem. I’ll let the front desk know.”
Holy hell. For a second there, I freaked out. I’m barely thirty-five. I haven’t even lived yet. I’m not married, not even close. That ship sailed four months ago, along with any chance of pleasing my family. I don’t have kids. Or the house in the Hamptons with two dogs and a cat I always dreamed of. I haven’t traveled to all the places on my bucket list.Shit, I haven’t even done half the things on it.
Dr. Sawai makes a few more notes before saying goodbye, leaving me alone with my thoughts and slowly dulling pulse while I finish getting dressed. I slip my heels back on, my gaze wandering to the magazine on the chair beside me. I pick it up, eyes landing on Matt… again.
I lower it slowly, then stand.
And slide the magazine into my purse.
I swing openthe front door to my apartment and drift into the kitchen in a daze.
What a fucking day.
After my doctor’s appointment, I went to my hot Pilates class, where I completely zoned out. Honestly, might’ve been the easiest class I’ve ever done. I was so wrapped up replaying the last few hours that the burn in my ass and thighs didn’t even register.
Kicking off my shoes, I drop everything on the counter and make my way to the couch, grabbing the remote before flopping down. I scroll to HBO and put on old reruns ofSex and the City.I feel like Carrie—mid-thirties, living in a studio, good career, good friends, but always circling back to Big. Matt, in my case. Except we’re not together.God, at least Carrie was having sex.
I have a fantastic closet, but I’m broke, and all I have to show for my life is a shit ton of credit card debt and an apartment too small for two.
I curl up in a ball and sink into the couch under a blanket, blinking back the tears I’ve been holding in for hours, but it’s no use. They slip down my cheeks as I stare blankly at the TV.God, I’ve never felt so alone.I’ve never wanted a pet more than I do right now—something to snuggle up with, something soft and warm to fill the void in my chest.
I’m a few episodes in before my eyes start to flutter, so I move to my bed just behind the couch, leaving the TV on low. I start to nod off, doing everything I cannotto think about all the shit. My visit with Pappoús. The credit card debt. That damn magazine article. The scare I gave myself at the doctor’s office. This hollow feeling I can’t shake.
And Matt.
Always fucking Matt.
And I wish so badly I wasn’t this person, needing to prove something, but wanting approval.
Needing to be independent, but wanting a partner in life.
Stubborn as hell and needing to be right, but wanting someone to tell me what to do at the same time.
Needing to stay friends with Matt... but deep down, wanting to be the one who got away.
The one he never really stopped wanting.
A vibration jolts me awake,scaring the living hell out of me. My pulse races as I reach for my phone, smacking at it before my brain catches up.
Blinking, I force my vision into focus.Matt.
I scowl, confused and half-asleep, and answer.
“Hey,” I croak, my voice barely audible.
Nothing. Just uneven breathing.Did he… pocket dial me?
“Matt?”
Then I hear it—a sharp sniff, a shaky exhale, then a choked cry. “Babe…” His voice cracks.
Oh my God.I shoot upright. “Matt? Are you okay?”
