Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I flopped onto my side, facing away from the place he used to fall asleep with his arm around me.
I missed it all.
TWENTY-FOUR
dash
For three days, I lay around my house in sweatpants and bare feet, unshaven, unmotivated, and unwilling to show my face in the world.
I turned down invitations to see friends, ignored my inbox and social media, and avoided responding to any of my family’s texts asking how the meeting had gone. I didn’t have the energy to work out, I couldn’t bring myself to care what I looked like, and I certainly didn’t feel like walking around naked.
I kept hoping Ari might reach out, but she never did. I kept hoping the days would get easier without hearing her voice, but they dragged. Every night, I crawled into bed alone, hoping I’d fall asleep without longing for her, but it never happened.
And if my personal life was a train wreck, my professional life was a dumpster fire on the side of the tracks.
The humiliation from Tuesday refused to let up. Was it a sign? Should I just call it quits? Host a game show? Was Milk still interested? I saw the announcement that the role of Johnny in All We’ve Lost had been cast—damn that Tom Holland—and I mourned the loss like it had actually once been mine.
I finally spoke with Izzie, who apologized profusely for the miscommunication and told me not to give up. “At least you’re on Katherine Carroll’s radar now,” she said brightly.
“Izzie, I’m on her radar wearing a shark onesie,” I grumbled, stretched out on my couch in sweats and an old Two Buckleys T-shirt. “That’s not the impression I wanted to make.”
“Well, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Beatrix feels terrible, by the way. She asked if I was going to fire her.”
“No, don’t fire her.” I frowned at the ceiling fan. “I’ll just feel worse.”
“Well, cheer up. Something good is bound to come your way.”
We hung up, and I stared at my phone, longing to call Ari and confess the entire debacle. She’d probably find a way to make me laugh about it. See the humor in the miscommunication. Reassure me my time was still coming, I had a gift, I shouldn’t give up.
She was simply the best, just like the song said.
But I couldn’t tell her I loved her. The thought of it paralyzed the muscles in my throat.
And a bunch of adolescent girls were not qualified to give me relationship advice. They didn’t know me, they didn’t know Ari, and they certainly didn’t know how hard a relationship could be—especially if you lived on opposite sides of the country. They were just kids. They thought you could write your own life like a script and give it the ending you wanted.
If only it was that easy.
But I had to admit, they’d said some things that made me think.
I knew what she wanted in a relationship—she’d said it right out loud. I just want someone to be there. Be in it with me.
But how was I supposed to be there when I lived here? There was no getting around it. So what the fuck was the point of all these fucking feelings that had come surging forth once my heart energy was unclogged? They weren’t making my life any better or lighter or easier.
I scowled at my phone. This was some real bullshit. The universe wasn’t handing over any breaks. I hadn’t gotten the big role. I’d done everything Delphine had said to do and I was right back where I started, alone with my shit.
No, I was worse off, because now I was potentially in love with a girl who lived a million miles away, and we couldn’t be together.
This was all Delphine’s fault.
Jumping off the couch, I threw a baseball cap on my head, shoved my feet into some slides, and grabbed my keys. I was going to drive to her shop and tell her so.
The same sandwich board advertising the same psychic bullshit was out on the sidewalk, and I felt like kicking it over as I marched past. I stormed into the shop, a chime going off above my head. Inside, I stood there in a huff, feet spread, chest puffed up, chin jutting.
“Can I help you?” asked a tall, skinny guy with long hair behind the register.
“I’m looking for Delphine.” My eyes scanned the shop, but all I saw was the back of a woman with a long blond ponytail examining some crystals.
“She’s in the—”
“Dash.” Delphine had appeared from behind the beaded curtain. The resemblance to Ari seemed less strong to me now, but it was still enough to ratchet my anger up another level. “How are things going?”
“Terrible.” I scowled and pointed at her. “And it’s all your fault.”
She didn’t even look surprised—further proof of her guilt. “Would you like to come back and talk about it?”