Her eyes flicked to the floor.
“I’m sure Sam’s parents are wondering what happened.”
He flinched.Sam’s parents.God. He would have to talk to them today, explain everything. Try to ignore the hurt and disappointment in their voices.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated dully. “I shouldn’t have just disappeared. I should’ve told you where I was.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” Her tone was flippant, but there was an edge to it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shifted her weight, her eyes drifting to the window, like she would rather be anywhere else but there. He knew the feeling.
He pulled back a corner of the duvet, then looked up at her. She met his gaze without moving. His heart felt like it stopped. After several interminable seconds, she slipped off her sandals and pulled her sundress over her head before crawling in next to him.
He pulled her body against him, her cheek on his chest, skin still warmed from the sun. Touching her seemed to ease his hangover slightly. Maybe it was the relief of knowing that she couldn’t hate himthatmuch if she still wanted to be physically close to him.
“Are you ready for tonight?” she murmured, running her fingers over his chest.
Tonight. The screening. He placed his hand over hers and clutched it tightly.
“No,” he said truthfully. She nuzzled her face deeper against his torso.
“You’re gonna do great.”
“Mmmm.” He shut his eyes, focusing on the way her deep breathing synced with his, his chest rising with hers in perfect unison.
He had almost fallen asleep again when he felt her stir and sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?” he mumbled.
“I can’t just lie here all day.” He couldn’t see her face, but her annoyance was audible.
He sat up, too, his head throbbing more powerfully than ever. She had her back to him, the flawless expanse of her skin bisected by a thin scrap of blue lace.
“Youaremad.”
She raised one shoulder, more of a twitch than a shrug.
“I was last night. Right now…I don’t know.” She inclined her head to look at him. “I don’t think this is the right time to talk about any of this. We just need to get through tonight.”
His chest tightened. Shewasgoing to leave him. All she cared about was keeping him calm enough to not embarrass her tonight.
She stood up and plucked her dress off the floor. It hadn’t even been down there long enough to wrinkle.
“I’m going to go up to the Natural History Museum. I’ll be back by four so we can get ready. Do you need anything? Gatorade? Advil?”
She didn’t ask him if he wanted to come. Obviously he was a mess, unfit for anything other than spending the day in bed. He rewound the last twenty-four hours in his mind, torturing himself by retracing every misstep now that it was too late to do anything about it. It would’ve been emotionally draining to see Sam’s parents, sure, but not insurmountable. He would’ve gotten through it like a twenty-mile run, carried through on endorphins and adrenaline, exhausted but exhilarated at the end. But it had been years since he’d run more than a mile, since he’d been in the market for anything besides a hit of instant gratification.
In that timeline, he and Grey would spend this afternoon wandering the museum—his favorite—together. He’d tell her about how the first time he’d seen theT. rexskeleton on a field trip with his first-grade class, he’d had nightmares for a week. How he’d begged his mother to bring him back the following weekend so he could stare down the object of his terror, somehow both more and less thrilling than he’d built it up to be in his mind.
But instead, she was going alone, and he’d lie in bed waiting for her to come back and dump him. Part of him had known this day was coming since the first time he’d seen her in Audrey’s office. He’d been deluded to believe that things would be different withher, thathewould be different. That being with her could somehow heal the ugliest, most fucked-up parts of him.
For a while, it almost seemed like it had.
“No. I’m okay. Thanks.”
She hesitated for a moment before moving to his side and kissing his forehead. Not his lips. She picked up her purse and swept out the door without another word.
After she left, he stumbled to the bathroom, tripping over his jeans on the floor. When he picked them up to throw them on the bed, something fell out of the pocket. He bent down to pick it up: a small plastic bag of white powder. His stomach lurched. He hadn’t taken anything stronger than an extra-strength Tylenol since Sam’s funeral, but apparently last night he’d relapsed without even remembering it.
He considered the baggie. He could throw it out, act like it never happened. Or he could accept it as a sign. The unraveling of everything they’d built over the last few months was already in motion. Fighting the current would only exhaust him. He was going to drown either way.
