“Christ,” he says, his voice breaking. “I can’t believe this is happening. I thought… I mean, you’re the one, Libby.”
“Am I?” I whisper.
“What do you want from me?” he says. “You want me to give up my whole career? Is that it? Because I can’t do that.”
“I just want you to do what’s right,” I say.
“I told you—it’s not so black and white…”
I shake my head. “Do you really believe that bullshit?”
Will’s eyes darken. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not who I thought you were.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I look at Will, the man I’ve shared my life with for the last three years. Could I really leave him? I love him, but lately, all I’ve felt for him has been anger, frustration, and most recently, disgust.
“I’m going to pack a bag,” I say.
As I walk to our bedroom to grab my suitcase, I think Will finally gets it that I’m not just theoretically talking about leaving. He follows me, wheeling quickly. “You’re leaving?” He sounds astonished. “You’re seriously leaving?”
“I think it’s better this way,” I manage, around the lump in my throat.
“Where are you going?” he asks. “Are you going to stay with Mia?” His voice raises a few notches. “Are you going to stay with that fucking pothead teaching assistant who’s in love with you?”
I whip my head around to look at him. “I don’t know yet, okay?”
“He’s the whole reason we’re fighting, you know,” he says. “He brainwashed you.”
I have to believe Will is only saying that because he’s slightly drunk. “I’m not brainwashed, thank you very much.”
“Let me give you money for a hotel, okay?” he says. “Please?”
I shake my head. “I can’t take your money.”
Will just sits there, watching me pack, looking as miserable as I feel. With every item I shove into my suitcase, I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. But all I know is that I can’t share a bed with this man tonight.
I go into the walk-in closet to grab a sweater and I see my whisper pink georgette gown hanging up. I run my fingers along the silky fabric. For a moment, I consider packing it. But why? It’s not like I’m going to be getting married any time soon.
Will wheels up to the closet and looks up at me with the most heartbreaking expression. His eyes look wet, like he might start crying, which in turn makes me feel like I’m going to burst into tears.
“Please don’t go, Libby,” he pleads.
“Quit that case,” I say.
He drops his head. “You know I can’t.”
So I go. And I leave the dress behind.
Chapter 29
I should have taken money from Will for a hotel.
Actually, I really should have called Mia.
I almost did, but then I thought of having to live with her and her wonderful husband and her unborn child, and I just couldn’t do it. My life is too big a mess to stay with someone as together as Mia.
Instead, I’m in a hotel in the middle of Harlem and slightly frightened for my life. And the worst part is that it wasn’t cheap. Hotels in Manhattan go for at least three or four hundred bucks a night. This place was a hundred dollars and I was lucky to get it.
Now I’m sitting on a plastic-wrapped mattress in a tiny room that smells like stale cheese. But at least it doesn’t smell like blood. (Or maybe it does—what does blood smell like?) I’m convinced I saw a bed bug scurrying across the mattress, but I looked it up and bed bugs don’t scurry. So maybe it was some other kind of bug. Probably a cockroach.
“I tol’ you to stop stranglin’ me!” someone shrieks in the next room over.
Did I mention that the walls here are paper-thin? Whatever I’m saving on this hotel room, I’m going to need to spend on therapy at the end of this.
I wipe my eyes with the last of the box of tissues they were nice enough to leave in the room. I’ve been crying on and off since I left Will’s apartment, and my eyes feel tired and swollen. Half of me is certain I made a terrible mistake, but the other half of me knows I did what I had to do.
My phone starts buzzing from within my purse. If it’s Will, it’s going to be hard not to go running back to him, just to get away from this horrible place. But it’s not Will. It’s Reid. I hesitate a few seconds before I decide to answer.
“Libby.” He sounds relieved to hear my voice. “What’s going on? Did your boyfriend find out about everything?”
“Let me put it this way.” I edge away from a spider I see on the wall. Well, at least spiders kill other bugs. “I’m in a motel in Harlem.”
Reid is silent for a moment. “Is that safe?”
Probably not. “I don’t know. I guess so.”
“So he kicked you out?” There’s anger in Reid’s voice. “Just for going to the rally? What an asshole.”
“He didn’t kick me out,” I say quietly. “He actually wanted me to stay, but… I don’t know… I just…” I take a deep breath. “What kind of person defends such a horrible company?”
“I don’t know, Libby,” Reid says. “I’ve never had a conversation with your boyfriend, but… well, I can’t imagine how any decent human being could justify that.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
I hear this loud thump just outside my door. I stare at the locked door, torn between my desire to see what the loud thump was and being absolutely terrified to open the door. Finally, I edge over to the door and open it just a crack, ready to slam it closed at any second.
Okay, so there’s a man passed out right in front of my door. Like, lying across the entire width of the door frame. He’s either asleep or drunk or maybe dead. I have no idea because I immediately slam the door closed again.
“Libby, are you okay?” Reid’s voice asks me from my phone.
“This place is freaking me out,” I admit. “There’s a guy lying right in front of my door. I think he’s passed out.”
“Where are you?”
I recite the address to him and he gasps. “Libby, you can’t sleep there. That’s a really dangerous neighborhood. Just… don’t move. I’ll come get you.”
“It’s fine.” I sink back down onto the plastic mattress. “Anyway, I have nowhere else to stay.”
“You’ll stay with me and Josh.”
I bite my lip. Will wouldn’t want me staying with Josh and Reid. Especially the Reid part. But then again, he probably wouldn’t like me being murdered in this hotel. And anyway, who knows if Will and I are going to be together anymore.
“Is it safe for you to come here so late at night?” I ask him.
He laughs. “Libby, I’m six foot two and two-hundred-fifty pounds. I think I’ll be okay.”
I hesitate, not sure what I should do. Then I hear a woman’s voice ring out: “I SAID STOP STRANGLIN’ ME!”
“How soon can you get here?” I ask.
_____
Reid makes it over to the hotel in record time—he must have caught a taxi immediately after we talked. He clears the unconscious stranger out of my doorway, then escorts me downstairs. Then we head back to his apartment.
Josh is celebrating when I get there, clearly baked, with an array of snacks laid out all over the floor. It’s sort of off-putting, but I’m grateful for their hospitality, so it’s not like I’m going to complain. Besides, when you’re sitting in a bean bag, it’s not like you can eat off a dining table.
“The rally was a huge success thanks to you,” Reid says as we stuff chips with spinach and artichoke dip into our mouths. “Your boyfriend should be praising you.”
“Well, I did almost get him fired,” I point out.
Josh shrugs. “So? He works for a soulless giant law firm. He’d be better off getting fired.”
I hug my knees to my chest. “I still feel bad though. He loves his job.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” Josh says. “Listen, we watched your boyfriend on that news sh
ow. I’m sorry, Libby, but the way he spurted out that bullshit was scary. He was so earnest—I don’t blame you for believing him.”
“He’s not a bad person,” I say softly.
Josh and Reid exchange looks.
I glare at them. “He’s not!”
But I know they think he is. Hell, everyone in the city probably thinks he is at this point.
“Let’s get The Dude,” Josh finally says.
“Who’s The Dude?” I ask.
“Not who,” Reid says. “What.”
The Dude turns out to be a giant bong. Well, maybe it isn’t giant, but it’s certainly the biggest one I’ve ever seen up close. It’s as red as Stephanie’s purse and the shaft is about a foot long with a bit of water at the bottom of it.
“Get out the good stuff,” Reid says to Josh. “None of that oregano shit.”
“All my stuff is good stuff,” Josh insists.
“Um,” I say, “are you going to be smoking pot?”
Josh grins at me. “No. We are going to be smoking pot.”
Oh. Oh no. “I don’t do that,” I say. “I mean, I’ve never…”
“Seriously?” Reid looks shocked. “You’ve never smoked weed before?”
I shrug. “No, guess not.”
“The trick is that you shouldn’t inhale too much your first time,” Josh says. He winks at me. “You’re in for a treat though.”
He grabs a baggie from his jeans pocket, which is packed with something that looks like balls of herbs. He pulls out a little ball and puts it in the… bowl? He lights the bowl with his lighter, then presses his mouth against the open area at the top. I watch as the chamber fills with smoke.
I know this is going to make me sound naïve or something, but I’ve never smoked before. Not even a cigarette. I never had any desire to do it and nobody ever peer-pressured me into it. I honestly don’t see the appeal of sucking smoke into my lungs. I mean, isn’t smoke something unpleasant, that you want to avoid? I told Will once that I’d never smoked anything before and he said, “Yeah, me either. Seems pretty disgusting.”
But that will be another thing we soon will no long have in common, because Reid is passing The Dude in my direction and they’re both looking at me. I don’t really want to do this. I mean, I’m in my thirties—if I don’t want to smoke weed, I should be capable of telling people I don’t want it.
Although admittedly, I’m curious.
Okay, maybe one little puff.
I put my mouth over the chamber and I immediately feel the residual smoke tickling my throat. With the guys encouraging me, I take a puff. I feel my lungs burn as smoke enters them, and I start coughing like I’ve got pneumonia.
Josh laughs. “I told you not to inhale too much.”
Yeah, thanks for the tip.
Reid runs to get me some water and it takes me like five minutes to stop coughing.
I don’t like pot.
Chapter 30
I like pot.
Rot.
Cot.
Tot.
Not.
Idiot.
Also, it turns out that I like rhyming. I’m a poet and I don’t know it. Ha!
“You know what else rhymes?” I say to Reid.
He grins at me. His eyes are slightly bloodshot. “What?”
I shift on the beanbag chair. “Bean and clean.”
“Bean and mean,” Reid says.
“Bean and green.”
“Bean and queen.”
I think for a second. “Bean and obscene. Ooh, that’s a good one.”
“Bean and velveteen,” Reid says.
“What’s velveteen?”
“I think that’s something you, like, put in your coffee?”
I giggle. “Isn’t that ovaltine?”
“Oh yeah.” He grins. “I think you’re right.”
You know what else I like? Reid. He’s awesome. So awesome. I look at Reid, something slowly dawning on me. A revelation. Oh my God, oh my God. Oh. My. God.
“I just realized something incredible,” I say to him, grabbing his arm.
He raises his eyebrows. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “Reid rhymes with weed!”
Reid stares at me for a second, then the two of us burst into hysterical laughter. Oh my God, that was so funny. Reid, weed. You can’t make this stuff up.
“I can’t believe this was your first time smoking up,” Reid says. “I mean, not even in high school…?”
I shake my head no. “I was sort of a nerd in high school. You know, like the candy.”
“My favorite kind of nerd was strawberry.”
“Me too!” I gasp.
“It’s the best one.”
“Most definitely.”
Reid looks thoughtful. “I can’t remember the last time I ate a nerd.”
“Me too.” I bite down on my thumbnail and a thought occurs to me. “We should go get some! Like, now!”
“I concur,” Reid says.
Five minutes later, we are stumbling out of Reid’s apartment building. The night is incredibly frigid and neither of us brought our jackets (oops!), but it doesn’t bother me. Outside may be cold, but my insides feel nice and toasty. You know? And anyway, at least I’m not wearing shorts like Reid is.
There’s a 7-Eleven at the corner of Reid’s block, so we stop inside. The bright lights of the store make my eyes ache. I wonder if they’re as bloodshot as Reid’s.
“Hey,” I say to Reid.
“What’s up?”
I smile. “7-Eleven rhymes.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, it does.”
“Why do you think it’s called that anyway? Because, like, it’s open all day, every day. So shouldn’t it be called 7-Twenty-four?”
Reid says something back but I get distracted by an array of cookies they have in a display. I inhale deeply and the smell of them makes my heart race. “These cookies smell amazing,” I say. “Don’t they?”
“No clue,” he replies. “I don’t have a sense of smell. Remember?”
“Oh right,” I giggle. “So does that mean you can’t sense, like, pheromones?”
“Pheromones?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You know, those things that make you attracted to other people?”
Reid shifts between his sandaled feet. “I’m not sure.”
“So does that mean you don’t get attracted to people?”
He’s quiet for a moment and gets oddly serious. “No,” he finally says. “I do.”
He looks like he has something else to say, but I get distracted yet again by a large cart just next to the chips display. It takes me half a second before I realize what I’m looking at.
“Ice cream!” I yell.
Apparently, they have a bin of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches. I forget about the nerds and the cookies, because the ice cream is definitely calling to me. I see a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich and I absolutely have to have it.
Reid goes ahead and pays for our ice cream. I take a bite of mine and…
Oh my God, this is the best ice cream sandwich in the history of the world.
Seriously, this is literally the best ice cream sandwich. Nobody has ever had an ice cream sandwich this delicious before now.
Unfortunately, eating our ice cream sandwiches outside when it’s thirty degrees out and we don’t have coats doesn’t turn out to be the best idea. We race down the block back to Reid’s building, and I finish my sandwich there. I want to savor it, but I can’t. It’s just that good. I wish I had another one.
“What are you thinking?” Reid asks me as we settle down onto his bean bag sofa.
My thoughts are sort of everywhere, to be honest. I’m thinking a lot about that ice cream sandwich. But also, about Reid’s goatee. I’ve never had a goatee. In fact, I’m not capable of growing one. I’ll never know what it’s like to have a goatee. Never. Never ever.
“Your goatee,” I answer.
He grins. “Yo
u like my goatee.”
“I don’t have one,” I say.
“No,” he admits. “You certainly don’t. Your face is very soft and smooth.”
“How do you know that?” I say. “You’ve never touched it.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, because Reid takes the opportunity to reach out his hand and graze the side of my face softly. Reid isn’t a bad looking guy—I do find him attractive, in a furry, cuddly sort of way. And he has such a good heart. If I were single, I would be pleased by the way he’s touching me right now.
But I’m not single. Not really. I’m with Will, and I know that if he were touching me the way Reid is, my whole body would be on fire right now. I’ve never known a man who could do that to me before. That’s why I always thought he was my handsome prince.
I love Will. I don’t know what’s going to happen between the two of us, but I know that I can’t let anything happen right now, between me and Reid.
Reid leans in toward my face, just as I knew he would. I see him coming and lean away, but because I’m on a stupid beanbag chair and possibly a little bit high (okay, more than a little bit), I end up falling backward onto the floor.
“Libby!” Reid cries. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say quickly, thankful to have killed the mood. “But I think I should probably go to bed. You know, sleep it off.”
Reid gets it. He nods and doesn’t stop me when I make my way to his bed that he gallantly gave up for me tonight. Tomorrow I’ll call Mia and ask her if I can crash with her. At least till I can figure out my next move.
Chapter 31
Staying at Mia’s apartment actually isn’t so bad. Her guest bedroom is sort of set up like a hotel, with a great memory foam mattress, a down comforter, and big, fluffy pillows. All she’s missing is a mint on the pillow. Although I have a feeling if I mentioned the mint deficiency, there would be one waiting for me tomorrow.
To my utter shock, my involvement in the protest rally has been all over the news today. I’ve never been on television and I absolutely hate that my first time is happening like this. The news anchors are making it into a funny story about how the lead attorney for Hanford can’t even get his own girlfriend to buy the story. There are a lot of mean jokes about Will—I finally get why he was so adamant that I shouldn’t go to that rally.
(Almost) Happily Ever After Page 19