“What if we added one more?” She looks at me carefully. “The Mom Box.”
Emotion beats against my rib cage like a set of butterfly wings. I bite my bottom lip, blinking back tears.
“It’s perfect,” I finally manage.
Mia tilts her head and gives me a searching look.
“So,” she says, and I can tell by her shift in tone we’re about to enter a less comfortable territory of conversation. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” I reply, probably too quickly. “Really, I’m okay.”
Mia nods but doesn’t say anything. I ramble on, filling the silence.
“I mean, am I grateful I’ve been too busy with A La Heart to check social media or go to the grocery store and hear one of Jake’s songs blasting through the speakers? Of course. But I’m fine. Really. I made the right decision. This is all for the best.”
She nods slowly, graciously choosing not to point out how many times I used the word “fine” in under a minute. I let out a relieved breath.Maybe she’ll let this go,I think. But I’m not that lucky.
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, of course. I probably always will.”
Mia shoots me a look of utter exasperation.
“What?” I ask.
“Then what is the issue? Why aren’t you with him?”
“Because feelings aren’t enough!” I didn’t mean to yell, but being Mia, she doesn’t even flinch. She just continues staring me down with eyes that say,You might just be the biggest idiot in the history of idiots.
“It was never going to work out,” I go on. “He belongs in hisworld, and I belong in mine. We’re like Romeo and Juliet, except I’m not as hot as Claire Danes and he’s way hotter than Leo, and we don’t have a Baz Luhrmann soundtrack. I’m just cutting my losses so I don’t end up with a dagger in my chest.”
Mia purses her lips. “Hmm.”
“What is ‘hmm’?”
“Well, if it was all so inevitable, I guess you won’t be at all interested in this.” She reaches into her backpack and withdraws a rolled-up magazine. She drops it on the countertop, its glossy surface reflecting the overhead lights.
“What’s this?” I ask timidly.
She shrugs. “Just something that caught my eye at the bodega this morning.” She straightens, readjusting her backpack straps. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow?”
I nod wordlessly as she navigates the maze of brown boxes to find her way back to the door. It’s only when I hear it shut behind her that I bring myself to look at the cover.
Half a dozen famous faces are splattered across the page, but I immediately zero in on a familiar pair of milk-chocolate eyes. The photo is of him and Madison onstage, with a rip down the middle. “Jake and Madison: It’s Over!” the caption screams.
I shouldn’t do it. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve come so far and reading this will only set me back. Without bothering to open it, I toss the magazine into my recycling bin. I feel a mixture of pride and contentment at my own restraint.
There, it’s done.This was exactly the closure I needed.
With a renewed sense of lightness, I begin straightening up. I’m just getting ready to wipe down the counters when the doorbell rings again.
“Coming!” I call, weaving through the path of boxes. Mia must have forgotten something.
But when I pull the door open, it’s not Mia’s sardonic expression staring back at me. Instead, it’s an annoyingly perfect one,framed by a thick fringe of false lashes and crimson hair. Standing on the other side of my door, dressed incredibly inappropriately for the December weather in a floral-print dress and studded white booties, is none other than Madison St. James.
“What the hell areyoudoing here?” I ask icily.
Madison rolls her heavily made-up eyes. “I came to talk to you. Obviously.”
