“Be quiet, we are old, and this poor boy is lovesick,” Phil says, and then comes closer to my ear. “We both realized we’re better together. But that’s not enough. Love is a verb. You have to show the person you love them. Never take that for granted. Love is a verb.” Will rubs Phil’s back and kisses him on the cheek.
I thank the bartender like so, so, so much. Then I have Will and Phil on either side of me. Hallway. Hallway. Credit card. Library card. Old room key. Right room key. Bed. One of the guys puts a napkin in my hand. Lights out. Door closes.
I’m lying on the bed and the way it keeps spinning makes me shut my eyes.
I wake up I don’t know how much later. The room is still dark, the sun not out yet, and I remember why I don’t drink to excess.
The funny, numbing, temporary relief is gone.
Disappeared.
Misery and depression have returned. And pain. So much pain.
Whatever wall I was able to build between myself and my true feelings over the past few hours comes crashing down, hitting my body violently. I’ve lost Brady. I fucked it all up. I stare up at the ceiling and try to fight the tears that are building like lava behind my eyes. I squeeze my lids shut with every muscle I have. I do not want to cry. But I don’t have any idea how to get Brady back.
Chapter 48
Capri
Brady
My nose hovers over the delicate rose-painted porcelain teacup, taking in the scent of steaming organic chamomile tea. “Herbal teas are proven to help your mind relax. They have a chemical that helps the brain produce…”
“Stop it, Claire, please,” I say to my sister softly. “You sound like Hayes.” I put the teacup down, sink back into the sofa and try not to look around. The Silversteins’ villa is decorated in a style one can only describe as Contemporary Wealth. Gold leaf on as many surfaces as possible and uncomfortable overstuffed antique furniture. I try to keep my eyes focused out the window on the horizon where the sun meets the sea. Maybe the beauty will somehow heal my heart.
Claire puts her hand on my arm. I’ve been crying since I left the hotel so I think there aren’t any tears left.
My parents were already here and my sister, her husband Charles, and Gemma arrived a few hours ago. Gemma was asleep when her dad carried her in but I did get to see those pink cheeks and all those bouncy blond curls. For a second my eyes were dry and I could breathe. I sit up and look down the hall toward the room where she’s sleeping to see if there is any movement yet. Claire rubs my shoulder; she knows I can’t wait.
“While you were gone, Gemma discovered ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ but she wanted to make sure I knew ‘Stop! In the Name of Love’ is still her favorite. She even choregraphed a new dance. She can’t wait to show you. I had to edit it a bit. I don’t know where she learned to twerk.” Claire knits her eyebrows together and scans my face.
“Not me.” I hold up my hands. The thought of Gemma dancing around with her little tushie out makes me feel a bit lighter. But the sensation is only temporary. I lie down on the couch and put my head in Claire’s lap like when I was little. She strokes my hair. Claire isn’t someone to gab on the phone or text much. I send her twenty memes a day and she barely responds, but she’s always been there for me when I need her and it means a lot. Especially now.
“Claire, what am I going to do?”
“What do you want to do?” she asks. The words fall out of her mouth and land softly on my ears. If she had asked me this at the start of the summer, I would have given her a dumb look of indecision, pressing my lips together and raising my shoulders to my ears with a goofy smile.
But the answer comes easily to me now.
I want to go to Boston, start school, and be with Hayes. But there’s a difference between knowing what you want and being able to hold it in your hands. “When we got to Capri, I started having doubts about everything. And now I know Hayes doesn’t believe in me.”
“Why? Just because he didn’t tell you that Mom had arranged the entire summer for you?” Claire’s tone is flat and without my usual drama. She doesn’t get that it was easier to believe in myself when someone as sensible and together as Hayes led my cheer squad.
“Uh, yeah.” The reminder of the behind-the-scenes logistics makes me wince with embarrassment even in front of her.
“Big deal,” Claire says with a moan.
“It is a big deal,” I protest.
“Brady, our parents think their job is to open doors for us. They’re obviously lacking in the warm and fuzzy column, so they overcompensate. They did the same thing to me growing up and you know that. Guiding me toward this outcome or that.”
“But look at you. It worked. You’re a bizarrely annoying combination of success and happiness.”
“I got lucky. The doors they opened were the ones I wanted to go through. But with you they got it all wrong. So instead of turning you into a corporate shark who, by the way, just closed on the Belle and Envy acquisition, thank you very much, you became a people pleaser with enough self-doubt to supply electricity to a small country.”
I raise my head up for a second. “Wait, how does self-doubt generate energy?”
“You’re missing my point.” She pushes my head back down. “They didn’t know the right doors to open for you because you were on such a different path. But now that it sounds like you’ve found what you want, you can open the damn doors yourself.”
