Anyone But You

by Jerica MacMillan

  He sniffs and looks away, showing an emotion other than contempt for me for the first time since he showed up at my door. When he continues, his voice is soft again. “You’ve been one of my best friends for years. You were there for me when I was trying to make sense of the world after my dad died. You were happier for me than anyone when I told you about Sam and Maddie. I know I gave you shit about going after Viola, but I think you were both good for each other. I hate to see it end like this. And over something so stupid. I hate to see you blowing yourself up out of spite.”

  That seems to be what he really came to say, because he drops his arms and heads for the door. “Let me know when you’re ready to pull your head out of your ass and fix this,” he calls over his shoulder on his way out.

  And then I’m left alone. Just me and my bottle of tequila.

  And the results of all the shitty decisions I’ve ever made.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Viola

  It’s been two days since Mason left without a word. And in that time, he still hasn’t reached out.

  Of course, neither have I. Which I’m sure is super mature.

  But he left without saying goodbye. I’m pretty sure that means we’re over. And any texts or phone calls from me now would only read as pathetic and desperate.

  Which is accurate, but that doesn’t mean I want him to see me that way.

  Dragging myself out of my childhood bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, my mom beams at me from the table, standing and giving me a big hug. “I’m just so happy you’re back home,” she says. She’s been saying some variation of that every so often since I showed up unannounced the night before last.

  I haven’t bothered to correct her assumption that I’m home for good. That I’ve come to my senses, quit Cataclysm, and broken up with Mason.

  While Mason and I might be broken up, I’m not the one who initiated it. And if I had enough energy to cast blame, I would be blaming my mother. She’s the one who put me in the position of needing to gather myself, to shove all my emotions back down again so I could have a rational conversation.

  Mason’s emotions were all over the place. If I let mine run free, chaos would’ve ensued. Or so I thought.

  Now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have just waded into the mess, let my own emotions splash all over the room too, and had it all out in the open. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be here. Maybe if I had, we would still be together.

  My face threatens to crumple, and I suck in a deep breath, forcing the thoughts and the tears that go with them down, down, down, deep into my depths where I can’t feel them right now.

  I don’t want to cry in front of my mom. And I don’t want to cry right now when I’m supposed to be leaving for an interview in twenty minutes.

  Some part of me can’t believe I’m going through with this interview. But it’s easier than cancelling and having to deal with the fallout from my mom. I have enough emotional fallout to navigate on my own. I don’t need her adding more to the mix right now.

  I make myself some toast and coffee, largely ignoring my mom’s fussing and admonishments on how to behave at the interview, nodding along for the sake of getting along right now. Like I don’t know how to interview. I’m an adult. I’ve had several jobs since I was a teenager. I’ve always done well in interviews. I’m smart and articulate and conscientious. I have stellar references.

  I could ace this interview if I felt like it.

  I really don’t feel like it, though, and it shows as soon as I get called in to meet with the lead agent at the real estate firm where my mom’s friend works. The man who introduces himself as Dave shows me around the office, acquainting me with the layout, the reception desk where I’d be working, the coffee center where I’d be getting coffee for agents and clients, the drab view of office buildings that I’d be forced to look at every day if I were to take this job. And as I take all this in, some dormant part of me seems to wake up.

  Turning to Dave, I give him a warm smile. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” I start off, obviously taking him by surprise by the way he blinks at me like my words don’t make sense. “My mother set up this interview on my behalf under the mistaken impression that I’m looking for another job. The fact is that I have a job that I enjoy very much. It pays well and has a lot of perks, but it also requires a lot of travel, and she doesn’t like that. I’m the youngest and have always been the most obliging of us three, so I took the interview so I wouldn’t have to listen to her scolding.” I wave my hand like I’m clearing the air. “But you don’t really need the details of my family dynamics.” I hold out my hand, and Dave takes it, clearly mystified. “Thank you for your time. I hope you find a good fit. Unfortunately, I’m not it, so I won’t be wasting any more of your time.”

  He stammers something like, “Okay, well …” but I just wave over my shoulder and head for the exit, not really listening to what he has to say. I don’t care. I won’t be working with Dave.

  I barge into my parents’ house after the short drive home and immediately head upstairs.

  Mom follows me. “Viola? What are you doing back so soon? That was a really short interview.”

  “Yes. It was,” I confirm as I start gathering my things and stuffing them back in my suitcase.

  “What’s going on? What are you doing? Why was your interview so short? Is that good or bad?”

  Pausing, I look at her and tilt my head back and forth. “I suppose that depends on your perspective. I think it’s good. You might disagree, though.”

  “Viola, stop!” she commands, and because obeying her is deeply ingrained in me, I do. “What are you talking about? What happened at the interview?”

  I shrug, feeling insolent and rebellious, and resume my packing. “Nothing. He gave me a tour. I thanked him for his time and informed him that I wouldn’t be taking the job, so continuing the interview was pointless.” This time when I stop, it’s because I decide to stop, and also to make sure my mother gets the point I’m about to make. “I assured him that I have a job that I enjoy, and that my mother had set up the interview for me thinking she was doing what’s best, but that she’s misinformed.”

  Mom splutters. “Misinformed?”

  “Yes, Mom. You’ve told me that working for Cataclysm is a mistake all along. Told me to come home and apply for these other jobs. And even though I told you that this is a temporary break that has been in the schedule all along, you’ve ignored that and decided that me planning to come for a visit was me moving back in. You’ve misinformed yourself about my whole life.”

  I flip the lid of my suitcase closed and zip it up, moving to the bathroom to gather my toiletries. Mom follows me like I knew she would. “Hang on. What are you doing?”

  Stopping again, a bottle of face wash in hand, I give her a curious look. “Packing. What does it look like?”

  “But—but why?”

  Taking a minute to finish loading everything into my toiletries case, I zip it closed and turn to face my mother. “Mom, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you can figure out the answer for yourself if you actually paused and thought about it. But since you asked, I’ll tell you. I do not feel welcome here. I do not feel like I’m able to just be myself. I like working for Cataclysm. I like traveling, even though, yeah, it’s exhausting and the schedule is grueling. And no, I probably don’t want to do it forever, but for now I’m happy. It’s challenging and fun, and I get to go places and see things, and I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time that could be better spent watching paint dry or grass grow. I have friends. I have a boyfriend. Or I did, anyway, until you destroyed everything with your screeching about good choices and appropriate men. Which, we both know, is just code for boring. That’s what you wanted for Blaire—a safe, boring life. And that’s all you ever wanted for me. Guess what, Mom? I don’t want that. I don’t want safe and boring. I want thrill and excitement and … and … Mason. I want Mason.”

  On that declaration, I push past my mom
and back into my room, where I stuff my toiletries case in my crossbody bag and sling it over my shoulder. Then I hoist my suitcase to its feet and extend the handle. Facing my mother again, I square my shoulders. “I love you, Mom. I do. And I know you’re just doing what you think is best for me. But I’m twenty-three years old. I get to decide what’s best for me. And right now, what’s best for me is boundaries.”

  Her chin trembles, but she nods and lets me pass. I pull up my favorite rideshare app and request a car to take me to the condo building where Cataclysm lives in their off-time. While I’m waiting, I call Blaire. Because since I can’t stay here, I’m hoping she’ll let me stay in her condo while I figure out how to fix things with Mason.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Viola

  Kendra opens the door almost as soon as I knock on it. Like she was waiting for me. Which I assume she was, because as soon as I got off the phone with Blaire, I texted Kendra to let her know I’d be coming by to pick up the spare key to Blaire’s condo.

  Kendra pulls me inside and gives me an enthusiastic hug that I’m not at all prepared for. I pat her back awkwardly until she releases me. I don’t mind the hug, really, but we haven’t had a hugging relationship before now.

  When she releases me, she wipes at her cheeks, and I’m taken aback yet again to discover that she’s crying. She offers me a watery smile and holds out the key. “Here you go,” she says. “I’m glad you’ll be close by. We have all this free time now, so I fully expect for you to join me for girls’ nights. Especially since …” She waves a hand as she trails off, and my heart falls, since I know she’s referring to Mason and me and our apparent break up.

  Taking my hand, she tugs me to the couch. “How are you? How have you been doing? And what actually happened?”

  I give her a wan smile and swallow down the tears that threaten to well up at her questions. “I’m okay. I mean …” I flop my hand around awkwardly and decide to be honest. That’s my new thing. Honesty. Telling people how I actually feel and not just trying to bottle myself up and make myself fit into a box they’ve created for me. Not that Kendra’s tried to put me in a box, but old habits die hard, after all.

  Shaking my head, I correct myself. “Actually, no. I’m not okay. I’ve been miserable. I went home to my parents’, which was a terrible idea. My mom’s been a mess since I took the job with Cataclysm, and she absolutely lost her shit when she saw the pictures of Mason and me circulating online.”

  Kendra looks confused. “What? Why?”

  I let out a humorless chuckle. “Why to which part? Why doesn’t she want me working for Cataclysm, or why did she lose her shit about Mason?”

  “Yes.” She makes circles in the air with both hands. “All of that.”

  “Where do I even start?” I take a deep breath and organize my thoughts. “She thinks I’m slumming it, basically. That I should want bigger and better things for myself than working as an assistant for a band. Of course, the jobs she’s tried to set me up with are all boring admin assistant and receptionist jobs. I’m not sure why being the PA for a band is worse than those. The pay’s better, the perks are better …”

  “The eye candy is better,” Kendra finishes with a wry grin.

  I laugh, this time a real laugh. “Too true. When they all take off their shirts? Damn.” I fan myself, and Kendra laughs too.

  “I know. That’s my favorite. They all objected at first, but I think they like being ogled now.” Her face turns serious. “But for real, you’re a grown woman, why are you letting your mom have so much say in your life?”

  I shrug. “I’m not. Which is why she’s been losing her shit. I mean, I used to. But I took this job against her express wishes. She thinks it’s just a phase, and she’s been badgering me about coming back home all along. I usually just let her talk and make soothing noises to get her off the phone faster. So I didn’t bother telling my parents about Mason, because I didn’t want to hear their opinion. Well, my mom’s opinion. My dad doesn’t really give his opinion much, he just tells me to be safe and not be a stranger.”

  “But?” Kendra prompts. “That doesn’t explain what happened with you and Mason. If your mom’s been like this all along, he must’ve known, right?”

  I tilt my head from side to side in a gesture of ambivalence. “Kinda? I told him some, because he could tell I was upset after talking to her a few times. He knows that she didn’t like that I took the job. But he never knew the full extent of it, the way she’d send me applications and job notices. This time she really overstepped. She actually set up an interview for me during the break.”

  “Oh my god. Tell me you cancelled it.”

  I shake my head. “It was this morning.”

  Kendra examines me in silence for a moment. “But you’re here, so I imagine that means you didn’t take the job.”

  “I didn’t even finish the interview.”

  She claps her hands and then holds them over her mouth. “Good.”

  I chuckle. “I interrupted him before he could even finish his introduction and left. My mom was furious. But I told her that I knew her opinion and that I don’t care anymore, packed my things and left.” Covering my face with my hand, I shake my head. “She’s called five times since I left, and I know this isn’t over, but I’m not answering her calls right now. I’m not quitting my job to take some boring, soul-sucking job that I don’t want. I like what I’m doing. It’s fun and you guys are awesome and …”

  “And there’s Mason,” she says, once again filling in my blanks.

  “Yeah. There’s Mason.” Raising my head, I meet her sympathetic eyes. “How’s he doing? Is he here? Or …?”

  Reaching out, she clutches my hand. “He’s here. Next floor down. He hasn’t left his condo since he got here, as far as I know. Aaron’s been to see him, and he’s giving regular reports to Marcus. I know they’re worried. But Aaron’s been tight-lipped about whatever happened between you and Mason, just saying it’s not his story to tell.”

  A fresh wave of tears floods my eyes, and this time I let them fall. “I’m glad he’s okay,” I whisper. I know what he does when he has something to work through, and I was afraid of what he’d do. I’ve been watching the entertainment news like a hawk, both searching for and dreading the inevitable picture of him out partying. But there’s been nothing.

  I’d hoped it meant he wasn’t out doing that. That he wasn’t out trying to put me in the past. Because despite how hurt I am that he left like he did, I’m not ready to let go of him. Of us.

  Standing, I clutch the key to Blaire’s condo in my hand. “Thank you, Kendra. I’m going to go settle into Blaire’s place.” I point a finger at her and give her the best smile I can muster. “I’m going to hold you to that girls’ night invitation.”

  She stands too and throws her arms around me again. This time I return her hug like a normal person. “Let me know what happens,” she whispers before letting me go.

  “I will,” I promise, then gather my suitcase and head down the hall to Blaire’s condo.

  A steady stream of knocking on the door pulls me out of the movie I’m watching—Late Night. I’ve seen it already, but I was in the mood for comfort and laughs without a lot of romantic drama. The story of a woman pursuing her dreams despite not having the background for it resonates with me, though she became a comedy writer and I’m a glorified gopher for a band.

  Still. They care about me. I’m part of the family. And when I actually figure out the thing I really want to do with my life, I know they’ll support me, even if they’ll be sad to see me go.

  And for the first time in twenty-three years, I feel like maybe I can just sit with myself and listen to my own internal voice telling me what I should do instead of worrying about what my parents will think.

  I’ve stifled that voice for so long that it’ll probably take it a while to fully come out of hiding. But for now, I’m happy to stay on with Cataclysm.

  Well, mostly. I still haven’t work
ed up the courage to confront Mason, even though I’ve been in Blaire’s condo for twenty-four hours. Some part of me is still hoping he’ll make the first move, despite all evidence to the contrary.

  I open the door without bothering to check the peephole, because I know whoever it is will be someone I know. Only Blaire and the Cataclysm members know I’m here, after all.

  Blaire brushes past me as soon as the door is open, and I stand back in surprise.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in Vancouver?” I ask, shutting the door behind her and following her into the kitchen where she’s pulling out glasses, then opening the freezer for the bottle of vodka I noticed in there last night.

  She glances up at me as she fills each glass halfway full. “Nice to see you too.” After screwing the lid back on the vodka, she heads for the pantry, where she pulls out a bottle of cranberry juice. She fills the glasses the rest of the way, plunks in some ice cubes, gives the whole thing a stir, and hands a glass to me. After clinking our glasses together, she takes a healthy sip and heads for the couch. “Yes,” she calls over her shoulder as I trail behind her. “I am supposed to be in Vancouver. But Beckett and I both decided that I needed to come here and clean up this mess.”

  I sip my vodka cranberry and sink onto the couch before turning off the TV. I have a feeling I won’t be getting back to my movie anytime soon. “You’re in charge of cleaning up messes?”

  Shrugging, she kicks off her shoes and reclines against the arm of the couch, curling her legs beneath her. “Apparently so. I thought I’d retired from that job, but here I am.” She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s nice to be needed, but sometimes I wish all of you would handle your own love lives.”