Page 153 of Wardrobe Malfunction

When the only person I should be caring about is Charly. What she thinks of me.

My gran is right. Screw what everyone else thinks. I want Charly.

And I’m going to get her.

I stand up. “Do you know where Charly is right now?”

A slow smile spreads across my gran’s face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Charly

After I went over to Vaughn’s parents’ house with his gran, we sat down in the living room. She gave me a piña colada. I downed the whole thing in one go, and then I started spilling my guts like a pig that had just been cut open for slaughter. I told her everything—the truth about my marriage to Nick.

But something tells me that I can trust Phoebe.

Or maybe it was just the two strong piña coladas telling me that.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

I lost Vaughn, so nothing matters to me right now.

I know I should ring Nick and tell him what happened, but I just can’t bring myself to talk to anyone.

Every time I open my mouth to speak, I feel like I’m going to cry. So, I’m keeping it shut.

After I talked to Phoebe and cried my way through a box of tissues, I was embarrassed that I’d unloaded on her like that.

So, I thanked her for everything, and I looked up flights. Turned out, there wasn’t a flight to New York until tomorrow night.

It’s like the world is trying to punish me by keeping me here.

I asked Phoebe if she could recommend a hotel in Klamath Falls. She gave me the name of one, and then I called a cab.

The cab arrived fifteen minutes later. I hugged Phoebe and thanked her for everything. Then, I climbed into the cab, and it took me to the hotel.

I checked in for a single room. Took my case up to the room, sat down on the bed, and stared at the wall.

I knew I was going to cry again. After years of never crying, my eyes were sore, and I felt drained. I knew I wouldn’t cry in front of people, so I got up to go outside, and I started walking.

I wandered around for a bit and then headed back in the direction of the hotel, but the thought of being in that room alone made my footsteps start to slow.

So, I went into the diner a few doors down from the hotel.

It was empty, bar the waitress. But it would do.

I sat down in a booth by the window and ordered coffee and a piece of pie. That was about an hour ago.

I’ve just finished my second cup of coffee, and the pie sits, untouched.

Charlie Puth’s “Dangerously” is playing on the radio. I’m listening to the lyrics and staring out the window.

“Another refill, hon?”

I move my eyes to the waitress. She has a coffee pot in her hand.

“Sure.” I push my cup toward her, using my fingers.

She refills it.