Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Why didn’t I see this earlier?
It’s like watching a flipbook, and everything just snaps into place.
Hartley is right. There is a way to fix this. I look around the gym and laugh softly to myself. And it’s right in front of my face.
“Listen, Gianna, I appreciate your enthusiasm and passion for this, but I need to go.”
“I’m holding you responsible for anything that happens to her.”
I laugh. “As you should.”
“Oh.”
I end the call. She’s mad anyway. Then I sling my bag on my shoulder and dial Isaac.
“Hey,” I say when he answers. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Audrey
“Oh, this didn’t turn out so bad,” I say, turning side to side in the floor-length mirror. “It’s kind of cute.”
In my haste to leave Tennessee, I forgot the dress I’d planned to wear to Dad’s party. The silver lining about coming a day early was that I had time to shop, an activity that never hurts my spirits. A little boutique near my favorite part of the city had one powder pink dress with a low-cut back that dips almost to the top of my behind, and it fit like a glove.
My first thought was that Brooks would love it.
My second thought was to find a ladies’ room, so I didn’t get emotional in public. But I didn’t. I lifted my chin and continued with my day without shedding a tear. Because last night I realized something—I’m not sad about what I lost. I’m sad for what it could have been. We had the potential to be something very special. There’s something bittersweet about that because I truly believe there was magic between us, and I can’t accept that he didn’t feel it, too. Thinking he didn’t feel something real, even a spark of it, would require abandoning all logic and experience. I know what I felt. I know what I saw. All I can do is chalk it up to bad timing and try to believe that what’s meant for me will find me at the right moment.
“No more waterworks,” I say, slipping on my heels. The dress’s fabric is silky and smooth, and it’s easy to move around in. I figure something ought to be easy tonight.
I glance at the clock by the bed. Mom insisted on sending a car for me tonight, and I agreed only if no one else was picked up at the same time. The last thing I need is to open the door and find Lewis Lemon sitting in the back seat with his smarmy smile and obnoxious cologne.
Somehow, I wouldn’t put it past her.
I sat on the balcony of my hotel room last night and thought about a lot of things. I thought about Mom and Anna a lot. I can’t imagine what it was like for my mother to lose a child, and I’ve always known it would’ve been unbearable for her. She held my sister, I’m sure. There’s no doubt she loved her. If there’s one person in the world who actually knew Anna, it was Mom.
And maybe that’s part of the story I never gave enough weight to.
I’ve been too focused on my loss—the truth, the opportunity to celebrate Anna, to know where she rests. I’ve been too focused on how I believed it made Mom more judgmental, overbearing, and expectant. But maybe I misconstrued all of that. Maybe she wasn’t trying to keep me small. Maybe she was just trying to keep … me.
Losing my sister had to have broken a piece of her heart, and maybe every milestone I reached reminded her that Anna never would. Maybe every report card, ballet recital, and family vacation triggered her to remember, in a beautiful, vicious cycle, that she’s just fighting to survive.
Isn’t that what everyone is doing? Just trying to survive?
I thought Jessica Van was the queen of control, but maybe she needed that control to feel safe in her own life. Her own skin. Her own heart. Maybe she thought that if she loosened her grip, even for a moment, that she might lose me all the way.
Mom didn’t love me less. She probably loves me too much.
That doesn’t solve all my frustrations with her, because I’m only a human, but it does put things in a new frame—and I can work with that.
I blow out a breath and turn to grab my purse when my attention lands on the sheets bundled in a heap in the middle of the bed. It’s not the nicest bed I’ve ever slept in, nor the most comfortable, and I have bags under my eyes today. But when I moved from the balcony to the bed and turned off the lights, I climbed under the sheets in the dark and eventually fell asleep. I was either too tired to worry about the monsters, or I realized that monsters exist even in the light. I might as well get some rest.