No Tomorrow: Chapter 14

The past two weeks have been some of the best of my life. I’m floating on a cloud, wearing a perpetual smile. Nothing can break through my wall of happy.

I’ve been in my apartment for three days, and it’s seriously an indescribable feeling. My very own place. Ditra and I hung scattered wooden shelves on one wall of my living room and then filled them with books that have been stored in my closet for years. We surrounded the books with cool bookends and heavy candles we found at the flea market. I painted the entire apartment in earth tones, mixed in cool blues and grays, and added a few random bright red throw pillows to add a splash of color. As silly as it sounds, when I come home from work at night I just wander around the small apartment, squealing over how cute it is. How mine it is. Even Archie seems happier, because he finally has lots of windows to sit in and gaze out of. What really won him over is the new carpeted cat tree I put in front of the window in the living room. Now he can stare at the birds and squirrels in the backyard all day long. In between naps, of course.

Tonight I’m silently squealing in my new apartment for an entirely new reason.

Blue is here. In my apartment. I almost fainted with shock and excitement earlier today at the park when he asked if he could meet me here tonight. I was sure he’d bail at the last minute, but he’s here right now with Acorn—and penguin—in tow, slowly walking around, reading the spines of my books and studying the photographs on my wall. He looks so ethereal here in my space, I feel like an angel came down from heaven to grace me with his presence. And Acorn seems to be having the same effect on Archie, who hasn’t hissed or run away once.

I’m filled with butterflies, and I’m hoping this could be the start of something really good. I guess Ditra was right, after all. Blue just needed to do this on his own terms.

“So this is you.” His deep voice is like thunder rumbling in the distance. Warning, yet seductive.

“This is me. Do you like it?”

Nodding, he crosses the room to sit with me on the couch. “I do. It’s cozy. Safe.”

“I picked the colors you told me about.”

“I noticed. The red is sexy.” His hand rests on my upper thigh, his fingers lightly squeezing. “Do you have a little red dress? Or a black one?”

My mind reels from the sudden shift in the conversation. “Yes, one of each, actually.” There was a time last year when Ditra was buying me ‘hook up’ clothes and dragging me to clubs in an attempt to pick up guys. She picked up many, I picked up none, and three of those dresses are currently in the back of my new closet.

“High heels?” he asks.

“I have a pair of four-inch heels I can barely walk in. Ditra picked them out and I wore them once and ended up taking them off and going barefoot all night bec—”

He interrupts my babbling, and moves his hand farther up my thigh until his fingers are brushing against my lips through my slacks. “Go put it on. The red dress and the shoes.”

“Okay… are we playing dress up?” I ask playfully.

His lips curve into a sexy, devilish grin. “I’ll wait here.”

I stand and smile suspiciously at him, my interest piqued. “Do you want something to drink or eat before I disappear for a few minutes?”

“Nope. Just you.”

My blood warms in my veins. “Okay. Just help yourself if you want anything.”

I disappear down the hallway to my bedroom to search for the shockingly short and sexy, low-cut red dress. I slip it on with nothing but a black silk thong underneath, and the material clings to my curves like a second skin. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the four-inch stilettos in the back of my closet. Not sure why I didn’t toss these when I moved, but now I’m glad I didn’t. I finish the look off with red lipstick, a smudge of black eyeliner, mascara, and fluff up my hair with my hands as I walk back to join Blue. I’m doing my best to walk as sexily as I can in these ridiculous stilt-like shoes, but I almost skid and face plant when I turn into the living room.

The lights are off, and all the candles in the room are lit. I never actually light candles because I’m afraid Archie will catch his big fluffy tail on fire, but the room looks like a scene out of a movie with the flickering of flames and shadows. He stands when I enter the room, and he takes my hands in his and spreads our arms out.

“Oof,” he groans, dragging his gaze up and down my body. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Ladybug. I wish I could take your picture. I don’t trust my fucked-up brain to remember you like this forever.”

“You don’t have to remember me. I’ll always be here for you to look at.”

He moves his hands to my waist and he lowers his head to kiss my lips. “Time will tell,” he says, using one of his notorious cryptic replies. Still kissing me, he sways us back and forth in a sensual dance as he slides his hands from my waist to the backs of my thighs, then slowly inching the material of the dress up until his hands are cupping my ass.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers. “You’re so… together. You don’t give up on what you want.”

“I try not to.” I tilt my head up to look at him and lift my hand to caress the back of his neck. “Do you, Evan? Do you give up?”

“Why you callin’ me Evan again?” he asks, brushing his lips across my cheek as he continues to sway us back and forth.

“Because it’s your name. And I think sometimes you need to hear your real name.”

His jaw muscles twitch. “You might be right.”

“So do you?” I urge gently. “Give up on what you want?”

“Maybe what I want gives up on me.”

Our lips meet again, and I pull away to give him a frustrated expression. “You love to talk in riddles, don’t you?”

“I prefer to think of it as lyrical.”

Before I can muster up a good comeback, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me over to the couch, placing me down on my feet in front of it. When he sits, his face is level with the hem of my skirt. His smoldering eyes caress and undress me before his hands even touch me. Reaching between my legs, he hooks his finger under the thin strap of my thong and pulls it all the way down to my ankles. When I step out of it, he bunches my panties up in a small ball and shoves them into the front pocket of his jeans.

“I’m keeping these,” he says.

“Okay. As long as you don’t wear them…”

He smacks my ass and I let out a yelp. “Hey.” I rub my hand over my stinging flesh.

“Did that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Turn around.”

Turning away from him, I hope he doesn’t slap me again, but instead he pushes my dress up to my waist. I feel the warmth of his lips on my ass, right where he slapped me, kissing away the sting. He moves his hands down my thighs, over my calves to my feet, grasping the stiletto heels and spreading my legs with a faint screech across the wood floor. My heart gallops with the hooves of a thousand tiny horses when he squeezes my ass cheeks, using his thumbs to spread my lips apart. I moan and whimper, arching my back to him as he licks me from behind. His tongue and his mouth are pure ecstasy, bringing my body to sinful heights of desire as his tongue laps my pussy to my ass and back again. Quivering and shaking, I reach back to grasp his shoulders for balance. He shatters my inhibitions, making me want everything and anything. The need to have more of him, deeper, harder, longer is completely overpowering. When I’ve finally stopped shuddering against his mouth, he spins me around and guides me into a kneeling position on the couch and slides his cock into my drenched core. Leaning over my body from behind, he tugs my hair to the side and he ravishes my neck, sucking and biting, leaving branding marks I’ll love seeing tomorrow. I grip the couch cushions as he rips the deep neckline of my dress even farther and squeezes my breasts, making me come again as he pounds into me from behind.

At some point during the hours-long sexathon, he carries me into the bedroom and we christen my brand-new bed until the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted, sweaty, and giddy, we eat ice cream out of the carton in bed and watch a ridiculous horror movie. Something so simple as watching a movie together makes my heart leap with the hope of more normalcy.

When I wake up, Blue’s not in bed next to me but the shower water is running in the bathroom, and it makes me smile that he’s not using a truck stop shower standing in a puddle of germs. And he’s singing. God, is he singing. His deep, growly voice resonates through my small house, giving me goosebumps. Sitting up, I stretch, and my muscles ache in protest from last night’s physical workout. As I’m yawning with my arms stretched over my head, he comes into the bedroom in nothing but one of my mauve towels wrapped around his thin waist. Up until now, I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him undressed in any kind of decent light, and he is a sight to behold—all glistening lean muscle and ink. Wordlessly, I watch him pull on his jeans and sweatshirt. I fight the intense urge to offer to wash his clothes for him while he’s here. I don’t want to do or say anything to ruin the perfection of last night and today.

He leans down to kiss me before he sits on the edge of the bed to put his socks and boots on.

“Red is your color, babe. It brings out your fire.”

“You bring out my fire,” I reply, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“I’m going to walk down to the café and get us some donuts and sandwiches.”

“If you give me a few minutes, we can go together, or you can take my car if you want.”

He pushes his damp hair back and clicks his piercing against his teeth. “Nah. I like to walk every morning. And it’ll give you some privacy.”

Privacy went out the window a long time ago. He’s seen me naked and spread. His cock, his fingers, and his tongue have been on me and inside me in one way or another more times than I can count.

“You can stay, Blue. As long as you want,” I say tentatively. “You could still walk and wander. I won’t hold you down. But this could be your home. It could be our home. If you want.”

He strokes the back of his hand across my cheek, and his blue eyes lock onto mine for a few moments, thinking, contemplating, wandering. Half his mouth curves into a slight smile.

Only Blue could smile half-way.

“I know, Piper. Your heart is my home. The way you look at me, the way you make me feel, is my home.”

“I meant—”

He touches his finger to my lips. “I know what you meant.”

I don’t push it. Things are too good to push. “Okay. The offer stands. Always.”

“Always?”

“Always. Anytime. Forever. Without a doubt. Okay?”

Cupping my chin, he brings my lips to his and kisses me softer than he ever has. “I love you, Ladybug.”

“I love you too.”

Rising from the bed, he looks around the room slowly before turning back to me. “I’m leaving Acorn here instead of bringing him with me. Last I checked he was all cozy on the couch with your cat. He looked happy.”

I laugh. “Finally, Archie has a friend.”

From the doorway, he winks at me, and I don’t get off the bed until his boots thud all the way down my hallway and out my front door. Sighing with happiness, I crawl out of bed and grab my robe to head for the bathroom, stopping to check Acorn and Archie first. Blue was right, they’re both curled up on my new couch, napping away like they’ve been best friends forever. Smiling to myself, I glance out the large bay window to see Blue walking down the road with his guitar and his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and I wish he didn’t feel the need to have to carry everything he owns around with him constantly. Perhaps, in time, he’ll feel secure enough to leave his belongings here. And maybe, if I’m patient enough, he’ll finally agree to move in.

I take a shower, clean up the house a little while my hair dries, then I take Acorn into the backyard and play fetch with him, just like I envisioned when I first looked at this apartment. Maybe the theory of manifestation is true—that if you picture what you want in your mind, and focus positively on getting it, it will happen. Closing my eyes, I picture Blue living here… us making dinner together and eating on my small patio. Making love every night. Waking up in his arms every morning. Listening to him sing in the shower.

I want it to happen.

It can happen.

After playing with Acorn, I put a little makeup on and fix my hair. I make the bed and spritz it with some lavender bed spray I bought that’s supposed to be calming.

I picture Blue in my bed tonight.

I envision us watching Titanic together, with Archie and Acorn at our feet.

I believe it can happen.

Acorn barks, and I run to the door, ready to throw my arms around him, but it’s not Blue, it’s just the mailman. I wait for him to move to the adjoining house and then I retrieve my mail, which is nothing but junk that I toss into the trash.

An odd sensation comes over me as I stand in my kitchen, like a cold breeze that wasn’t there at all. The clock on the wall suddenly seems to be ticking exceptionally loud, forcing me to look at it.

My heart jumps when I realize three hours have passed since Blue left. Breakfast time has long passed, and even though I’m up for eating doughnuts and bagels any time of day, I know it wouldn’t take him this long to walk to the café on the main road and then back here. Even walking slowly, it’s not that far. I look out the front window, thinking maybe he’ll just materialize since I’m looking, but there’s no one on the tree-lined street at all.

Anxiety festers up, twisting my insides, but I try to squash it as I get my sneakers and jacket. People stop and talk to Blue all the time because they recognize him as the guy who plays guitar all over town. He probably ran into someone he knows at the café and is sitting outside playing his guitar and has lost track of time. It’s happened before.

I drive to the café with Acorn sitting shotgun, and run inside.

“Have you seen a guy with long hair and a guitar in here, in the last few hours?” I ask the young guy behind the counter.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been here since six a.m., haven’t seen anyone like that.”

I thank him and go back to my car with a racing heart and mind, wondering where he could possibly be.

“Where’s Blue?” I ask Acorn as we drive through town, and he perks his ears up. Blue doesn’t refer to himself as Daddy as most pet owners do. Maybe he’s too cool for that. Or maybe he can’t deal with the underlying responsibility of the title. We drive to the park, and I take Acorn with me to walk up and down the paths, past my bench, and our picnic table, and down to the old bridge. The only things greeting us are memories.

Fear and frustration send tears to my eyes, and I brush them away as I drive over to the shed. Maybe he got a bad headache and went there to rest, knowing I would go there to look for him. I should have looked there first, instead of wasting time rambling through the park. Acorn’s tail starts to wag as I pull in front of the old house, and I assume he thinks he’s home or he knows Blue is here.

“Come on, pup,” I say, letting him out of the car. He immediately jumps out and trots to the backyard with me not far behind. I fully expect to find Blue sleeping in the shed, but when I pull the rusty latch and open the door, he’s not there.

And neither is anything else.

Acorn stands beside me, not wagging his tail, blinking up at me with a blank expression on his face that I’m sure looks just like my own.

The silence is thick as mud. I can almost feel the emptiness, take hold of it in my hand and squeeze it through my fingers. My breathing becomes unnatural and forced in my lungs, and a deep pain throbs in my chest and down into my gut. Acorn nudges my hand with his wet nose and I pat his head absently as I stare around in disbelief at the empty space.

Maybe he got robbed. Maybe someone came here and took everything. Or maybe the cops came, arrested him, and cleaned the place out.

Yes. That’s exactly what happened. One of the neighbors must have caught on and reported us and now he’s probably sitting in a jail cell waiting for me to come bail him ou—

As I spin to leave, I notice the white piece of notepaper stuck to the back of the door with an old nail. With a trembling hand I tear it off the door.

Tremors rock through my body so hard my teeth are gnashing against each other. Fury and heartache rages inside me like a tsunami, and I want to scream and tear the shed apart, to somehow destroy this scene around me and bring it all back to how it was yesterday. But I’m unable to move or cry or blink or even breathe because the man who meant everything in the world to me has just shattered every little piece of my heart and soul.

Why? How could he do this to me?

He just walked away. From me, and his dog, and our little life, and our love. I stare at his uniquely perfect writing, wishing it to morph into words I want to read like the notes he’s left in the past. Words like I miss you and come back. Big wet, hot tears fall from my eyes like the beginnings of a rainstorm. At the thought of the rain, my fragile heart cracks and disintegrates, and I wail and shriek like a wild animal caught in a trap, mentally unhinged from the pain with no way to escape and on the verge of chewing out my own heart to get away from it all.

Falling to the dirty floor, I sob uncontrollably, digging my nails into my palms until the soft flesh breaks open and bleeds.

It hurts. Everything hurts more than I ever thought possible. The stabbing pain is so deep, burning in my heart and in my soul, searing into every part of my physical and emotional being. I’m sure it will kill me. Nobody can live through a pain like this.

Acorn whimpers and lies next to me with his head on my leg, always the caretaker, and I bow down and hug him to me like he’s a lifeline. I cry into his fur until it’s soaked and curly, until I have no more tears left.

Hours must pass, and it’s brutally clear Blue isn’t going to come back, no matter how long I sit here and picture him walking through that door, it’s not happening. I don’t have special manifestation powers at all. What I have is a terribly broken heart and lost faith in love and trust. When I can’t sit there for a moment longer, I fold the note up and put it into my back pocket, and Acorn and I close the door of the shed behind us for the last time.

In a daze I walk past the house, and I almost don’t even notice that the door of the four-season porch is ajar. I honestly can’t remember if it’s always been that way, but curiosity draws me like a magnet to pull the door open and cautiously step inside and take a look around. The air inside is stale and musty, penetrating through my stuffy nose. Whoever lived here at one time obviously loved birds, because several old bird cages hang from the ceiling, and quite a few rest on the floor. At the other end of the porch are two huge cages, the kind a big parrot would live in. Even though they all appear to have been cleaned, there are still random feathers of different sizes and colors scattered on the floor. Stepping farther inside, my eyes are drawn to three piles of sketchbooks, each pile approximately three feet high. I grab one of the books and flip through it, but its pages are empty. My brow creases as I pull one from the bottom of the pile, letting the rest tumble to the floor. This one is also empty. I check another from a different pile—and it’s also void of any writing.

A shiver sprinkles up my spine as I realize these are the same notebooks Blue was always scribbling in when he was having a bad day. There must be two hundred of them here.

Why?

Putting the notebooks back on the disheveled stack, I slowly walk over to the corner, where a sheet is thrown over a pile of…something. My heart races as I lift the sheet, and I’m not at all prepared to uncover all the objects that were in the shed. Everything—the air mattress, the candles, the curtain, the throw rug, Acorn’s bed. Next to this pile are two large garbage bins filled with empty bottles of assorted alcohol, matchbooks, and empty cigarette boxes.

Confusion mixed with nausea waves over me. Did he break in here to hide all this stuff? Or was he able to get in here all along? There’s no way he had all those notebooks in the tiny shed, so they must have been hidden in here. But why? And for God’s sake, why so many?

With careful, quiet steps, I walk over to the door that leads to the main house and attempt to turn the brass knob, but it doesn’t turn. Peering through the dirty pane window of the door, there are no signs of life in the large kitchen; nothing left on the table or counter tops.

I bang on the door. “Blue? Are you in there?” My voice cracks with hope and despair. “Evan? It’s me. If you’re here, please come out and talk to me.” I press my ear to the glass. “Please?”

There’s no sound, no creepy feeling of being watched or listened to. I’m alone standing on a dirty porch, becoming more heartbroken and confused with each passing second. With the last tiny glimmer of hope snuffed out, I reluctantly give up and leave, grabbing Acorn’s bed from the pile on my way out. I don’t want any of that other stuff, but this poor dog deserves to have his own bed.

“Come on, Acorn.” I head toward the car but the dog keeps stopping and looking back at the house, hesitating. “Come on, sweetie. I’m going to take you home.”

It takes me twenty minutes to persuade Acorn to leave the property, even though he’s left with me several times in the past weeks with no problem. Somehow, he knows Blue has abandoned him, and, like me, he seems to be in shocked disbelief, waiting for him to come swaggering down the walkway.

As I drive home, completely numb and emotionally catatonic, I replay last night and this morning in my mind, trying to pinpoint what went wrong, or at what exact moment a goodbye was said that I didn’t catch. Looking back, there were none, and there were many, depending on how I interpret each moment.

I can’t help but wonder if nothing was wrong at all, and he chose to leave when everything was perfect, to suspend us forever like snapshots in a photo album.

When I get home, I realize I don’t have anything I need to care for a dog properly, and I’m not going to continue feeding him part of my meals as Blue did for who knows how long. A dog needs real food, a leash, a brush, and dishes. I drive to the nearest pet store to get everything I need and leave Acorn at my apartment. As I’m browsing through the aisles, I remember the ceramic dishes I bought for Acorn just a few weeks ago, which must be in the pile of stuff on the porch. I can buy new dishes, but those were expensive, and they were special because they have the words ‘my dog rocks’ printed on the side.

Next thing I know, I’m driving over to the abandoned house to retrieve the dishes even though I swore to myself I’d never set foot on that property again. The sun is setting in the distance when I arrive, and I try to fight off the tears and ache in my gut knowing Blue won’t be coming around the corner of the house to greet me. Just as I assumed, the dog dishes are under the tarp with the other items. Shaking my head with a myriad of sadness and frustration, I pull them out and turn to leave, but stop in my tracks when something very odd catches my eye. All the notebooks are neatly stacked again, and I know damn well they weren’t like that when I left earlier.

Am I losing my mind? Or has someone been here?

My heart pumps hard in my chest. For all the time I spent on this property hiding in that shed, I never once saw another person here except for Blue. So either someone’s been in this house the entire time—which seems very unlikely—or Blue has been coming and going in here today, and could possibly still be here.

I race to the door to the kitchen and rattle the locked doorknob, then bang loudly on the door.

“Blue! Are you in there? I swear to God you better come out here and talk to me if you are!” I peer into the window, but I don’t see anyone. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream. “I thought you loved me!”

The creaking of the empty birdcages swinging is the only sound.

Mumbling under my breath and with tears falling down my face, I walk to my car and drive away. But I don’t go home, like I should—like a normal person would. Because right now I’m emotionally crushed with a broken heart and I can’t think rationally at all. I drive my car to the next street over, park it in front of someone’s house, and then walk back to the abandoned house in the dark. As quietly as I can, I creep back onto the porch, and hide myself under the tarp, against the side of the house. I pull the down comforter over me to keep myself warm, and the hysterical sobs start all over again because it smells of smoke and sex and us. Memories assault me like a swarm of stinging bees, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to escape them or not see them, to not feel their pain penetrating deep into my very soul. Closing my eyes does nothing to shield me from visions that are forever burned in my mind.

His smile. Him playing guitar. The way his eyes would sparkle or darken with emotion. Him hugging Acorn. His body on top of mine. The feather against his hair.

How could he take all my favorite things in life away from me? Everything I looked forward to each and every day—just stripped away from me. I know that he must know what this feels like. In fact, I believe that he knows exactly how it feels to have everything I need and want and love so much stripped away without the slightest warning. He’s forced me to quit cold turkey and live without the high that being with him gave me.

I huddle under the tarp for hours, hoping and waiting for Blue to show up, but he never does. Exhausted with defeat and chilled to the bone, I walk back to my car, not even having the sense of mind to care that I’m walking around after midnight, in the middle of a dark road like a zombie. Numbness overtook logic hours ago.

I’m dragged out of my stupor the moment I open my apartment door to a horribly putrid smell. I gasp when I see the mess before me—dog poop and garbage strewn all over the living room and kitchen. Acorn is cowering in the corner and Archie is perched high on his cat tree with an expression of severe judgment and disapproval.

Oh my God.

I kneel next to Acorn, who’s trembling with what I can only guess is a mix of guilt and fear.

“It’s okay,” I soothe, stroking the soft fur between his eyes. “It’s not your fault.” I coax him into the backyard so he can get some air while I clean up the mess. I can’t even be mad at him because it’s my fault for leaving him alone for so long. I don’t know if Acorn’s ever lived in a house before, and now that I’m forced to think about it, he’s probably not used to being alone, either. Blue took him everywhere. Having a dog in my life is going to take some getting used to, but I’m not going to abandon Acorn like Blue did. I have no idea why he left his dog—his best friend—with me. Hopefully because he thought we needed each other, which is a lot easier to accept than the possibility that he’s a selfish bastard who didn’t care about either of us.

It takes me a while to scrub the stains out of the carpet, and I surpassed exhaustion hours ago. The new sheets on my bed are covered with the scent of Blue and the memories of our night together, so I crash on the couch to escape. I’m jolted awake by the doorbell. With a leaping heart, I run for the front door and swing it open to see my parents and sister with balloons and a flowering plant. Blinking at them, I wonder what kind of sick joke this is that they came here to celebrate my broken heart with colored balloons.

“Happy housewarming!” Courtney exclaims, throwing her arms around me. “I miss you already.”

Oh shit. How is it Sunday already?

Forcing a smile, I run my fingers through my knotty hair. “Come on in.”

“Honey, you look terrible,” my mother comments, placing the plant on a small table next to the front door. “Are you sick?”

“You have a dog now? When did you get a dog?” my father asks, prompting Courtney to run to Acorn and fall to the floor next to him.

“Oh my God he’s so cute! What’s his name?”

My brain is in a fog from lack of sleep. “Um, he belongs to a friend of mine who asked me to take care of him. His name his Acorn.”

My mom is still looking at me with growing motherly concern, and reaches out to touch my forehead. “Piper, what’s wrong? You’re pale and blotchy.”

“I just have a bad cold, and I haven’t been sleeping well.” I hate lying to people. Especially my parents. “I’m fine, though. To be honest, I forgot you were coming and I overslept.”

Her smile wavers. “We don’t have to stay, we just—”

“No, Mom, it’s fine. I want you guys to stay. Really. Just give me a minute to go wash my face.”

From the safety of my bathroom, I can hear them whispering about me, and I cringe when my father suggests I might be hung over. Does he honestly think after just a few nights of living alone I’d start drinking?

“You should have a deadbolt on this door,” my father says when I return to the living room. “I’ll bring one over and install it one night during the week.”

“Okay. This is a nice neighborhood, though.”

“You can’t be too careful. The dog is probably a good idea. Does he bark if he hears a noise outside?”

I can’t recall ever hearing Acorn bark, not even when the doorbell rang, but I’m sure he must, because dogs bark at all sorts of things. “I think he does.”

My sister flops on the floor on her back and smiles upside down at me. “This apartment is amazing. I can’t wait to get my own place. Can I stay overnight tonight? We can make popcorn, and watch movies and—”

Oh no. I can’t have an audience all day and night when I’m in the middle of a meltdown. I need way more time alone to get my head together. “I wish you could but I have to be up early for work tomorrow. How about Friday night?” Maybe by Friday, Blue will be back, we can put all this behind us, and everything will be good again. He might even be open to stopping by to meet my sister.

“You promise?” Courtney asks.

I smile, more at my daydream than at her. “Yes. I promise.”

My mom starts to talk about how cute the apartment is, how she loves the colors and how bright and airy it is with all the windows, and Courtney announces how she wants to move into my old space in the basement. I’m barely listening when my parents tell her that isn’t happening any time soon. My mind keeps wandering back to Blue. Why did he leave? Where did he go? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t love enough to get him to stay?

“Piper, did you hear me?”

Shaking my head, I turn to face my mother’s questioning gaze. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t.”

“We were hoping we’d get to meet your boyfriend today.”

“Oh.” I grind my teeth. “We kinda broke up.”

“Who dumped who?” Courtney sits up, instantly interested, because she’s at that phase in teen life when she loves any kind of drama and gossip.

I twist my hands together in my lap and force the words over the lump in my throat. “Um, it was mostly mutual. He had to move.”

That’s one way of putting it.

My mother smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. But it’s probably for the best. You haven’t been yourself while you’ve been dating that boy. You’ve been withdrawn and anxious. You’re a beautiful young woman, you’ll forget about him in no time and find the right one to sweep you off your feet.”

I’ve already been swept, and I’ll never forget Blue. He’s always going to be the one who has my heart. I know that without a doubt. He might be complicated, but he’s the right one and the only one.

“You can’t trust a man who won’t meet your family or come pick you up and take you out. He’s obviously got something to hide, or he’s just a user and doesn’t know how to treat a woman. You’re too good for someone like that. You’re a good girl. Don’t lower yourself,” my father lectures. “Remember this, he’s not going to buy the cow if he’s getting the milk for free. You have to make him work for it and respect it.”

Courtney goes into a fit of giggles while I look at my father like he’s insane. “Dad, really? That’s a horrible thing to say. I’m not a slut or a cow and I wasn’t getting used. We really care about each other.”

Glaring at my father, my mother jumps in to try to lessen the blow. “That’s not what your father meant. You have a good heart, you’re very giving and you trust everyone. People will take advantage of you.”

I can’t believe my father just referred to me as a cow and insinuated I’ve been handing out the goods. Even though I just got dumped in the worst way possible, I know Blue wasn’t using me. I know he loves me as much as I love him. I just don’t have the mental strength to explain any of it to my parents right now when my heart is still bleeding from the aftermath of Blue’s sudden disappearance.

Hours later, I’m relieved when my parents go back home. Wearing a fake smile and holding back tears is exhausting. This should have been a happy day for me to show off my new place and make my parents proud of me. Instead, I’m a mess and my father thinks I’m a cow who took up drinking and allows men to use me.

Ditra would love that visual.

No matter what, I always end up being some kind of awkward outcast.