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Thirty

GRACE

Preston

I have to go back to LA, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t shut me out, Sunny. We’ll fix this.

I reread Preston’s text from two nights ago. The one I haven’t replied to.

I can’t.

I don’t know what to say. Or do.

I think I’m broken.

A normal person would cry if their life were falling apart the way mine is. Seven weeks. That’s how long it took for me to ruin everything.

I glance at the magazine on my coffee table, staring at the picture of the lodge on it, the mini one of Preston and me smiling at each other, and then at the headline.

SCAM! What Else Is Lovers Lodge Hiding From Us?

Nothing except a broken heart and humiliation.

I grab the cover and toss the entire magazine across my living room. It should be a crime how quickly companies can write and print a magazine, and yet it takes weeks to get something as simple as an ID in the mail.

And it should be illegal to print anything about someone who didn’t approve it.

I pull the blanket in my lap over my head and curl into the smallest ball I can on my couch.

Hours after I told Preston to leave, he was on a plane back to LA to fix things on his end no doubt. I should text him to find out what he’s saying, but I won’t.

What we need to do is stop lying. We need to stop making a plan to cover our story. We need to tell the truth. We aren’t people who deceive, and we need to set that story straight.

I hear my front door open, and I know I should poke my head out from my blanket to see who it is. Perhaps it’s a murderer here to put me out of my misery or my brother to tell me it’ll all be okay or a friend to tell me that everything I’m feeling is valid.

I don’t know which one I want more, and that sucks.

“Grace?” Brooke says softly.

I hear the click of the door behind her.

“We came to check on you,” Shay says next, and the first tear falls. She’s been so busy with her new family that I haven’t seen her much, but I need her, and she’s here.

I flip the blanket down and gasp when I see my little sister, Wren, with both of them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, blinking. Maybe I’m imagining it.

“College is cool and all, but when every magazine is printing that my sister was fake-engaged, I think it calls for a trip home.”

I nod, crying now. “I agree.”

Then all three of them rush to the couch and wrap me in a group hug.

“How are you doing?” Brooke asks first.

I just look at her.

“Okay, stupid question. What do you need?”