I must be drunk, because I give Nev my wallet and tell her to buy whatever helps with getting over a guy with a baby mama. She’s gone for a while. Long enough that I polish off the last horrible cooler and text her to see if I have enough money to buy a bottle of Cristal.
She texts back to tell me she’ll see what she can do.
I get bored enough that I try her e-cigarette and almost cough up half a lung.
Then I start checking my other messages. It’s a bad idea, obviously, but good decisions don’t get made when drunk. I have a lot from Griffin requesting that I call him, asking if I’m okay, to please understand that he didn’t know about Imogen being pregnant.
She even has a stupid posh name, and I have a weird one that everyone thinks is a joke. I hate her even more now. I toss my phone on the coffee table and watch it light up every few minutes. Mostly it’s Griffin.
I don’t know how long my sister is gone, but it’s definitely a while. When she finally returns, she’s laden down with bags.
“Did you rob a store?” I hold the door open so she doesn’t have to struggle as much.
“I didn’t have to. Why didn’t you tell me you got a new credit card? I think I used it five times and it never got declined.” She has to walk sideways down the hall in order to avoid slamming into the walls.
“What’re you talking about?” I follow after her, suddenly panicked that she’s gone on a shopping spree I can’t afford.
She drops the bags on the counter with a metallic-slash-glass clang and clink, so she can pull my wallet from her back pocket. Flipping it open, she slides a black card out and slaps it on the counter. “This one.”
I pick it up. It looks brand new. And it has my name on it. “I’ve never seen it before.”
She makes a face and then it lights up with excitement. “Maybe he snuck it into your wallet without you knowing. Oh my God. How awesome is that? We should find out the limit, and you can charge a new car to it before he remembers to cancel it.”
“How much did you spend?”
“I’m not really sure.” She pulls out a bottle of Cristal, but the label is a different color than the stuff Griffin usually gets. Still, it has to be expensive.
“I need to cut this up.” I start rooting around in the drawer for a pair of scissors, so Nev does what she deems logical and swipes the card from the counter.
I try to wrestle her to get it back, but I’m drunk and she’s not. I’m forced to give up when she stuffs it down the front of her pants. Also, the intercom buzz goes off, signaling a visitor. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No. Are you?”
“No.”
We have a seven-second stare down before she pushes me out of the way and hightails it down the hall. She slams her palm on the button to let the random stranger in.
“If that’s a psycho killer, it’s on you,” I yell.
“That’s cool. I’m on it.”
An eternity later, there’s a knock at the door. My gut tells me who it is before they even have a chance to knock. I nudge my sister out of the way and press my eye against the peephole. On the other side of the door is Griffin. He’s changed since this morning, replacing his expensive suit with that stupid freaking band shirt from our first date and a pair of jeans. Such a fraud. How stupid does he think I am?
“Cosy? Please let me explain.” He bangs his head against the door a couple of times. His theatrics are epic.
I throw open the door and am completely unprepared to deal with the three-dimensional version of this man. My heart hurts so much, I’m worried I might actually be having some kind of episode. “There is literally nothing to explain, Griffin. You have an ex-fiancée, who you failed to mention. You couldn’t have been broken up for more than a handful of weeks when you asked me out. You took my V-card and acted like it was some big fucking deal when really, you’d already impregnated some worthy opponent with your superior spawn. Does that sum it the fuck up?”
“I don’t love her.”
“You must have liked her well enough to put a ring on her finger and stick your dick in her, though.”
“We haven’t been together for months. I don’t want her back.”
“How many months?”
He looks at the floor when he answers. “Almost six.”
My stomach rolls uncomfortably with that horrible truth. “And we’ve been seeing each other for nearly four of those. How awesome for me that I get to be the rebound.”
“You’re not a rebound, Cosy.”
“You were with her for four years, Griffin. I am most definitely the rebound.” I rub my temples, the throb growing exponentially.
“Just let me explain.”
I turn away from him, trying to inject some steel into my spine. I will not break down while he’s here. “Fine. Explain, but when you’re done, you’re going to erase my number from your phone and you’re not going to contact me again, because it doesn’t matter what you tell me, Griffin, I don’t want your toxicity tainting my life anymore.”
“Cosy.” His fingers brush my arm.
I whirl and shove him back. He stumbles, caught off guard. “You do not get to touch me. You lost that right when you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You had a fucking fiancée weeks before we started seeing each other.”
“It was over long before that.”
“Except she’s having your baby, so that’s a bit of a complication, don’t you think, Griffin?” Now that we’re in the living room, I can at least keep some much-needed distance between us.
Nev slings her purse over her shoulder while glaring at Griffin. She gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to go for a walk. Call me if you need me to come back and help you get rid of the body.”
“Thanks, Nev.” I hold out my hand. She sighs and fishes the credit card out of her shorts, slapping it into my waiting palm.
“You’re an asshole,” she says to Griffin as she passes him. “I should’ve racked that card up to its limit while I had the chance.” And with that, she storms down the hall and slams the apartment door behind her.
Leaving me alone with the man who’s already torn my heart out. Now he’s going to eviscerate it.
Chapter Seventeen: Just Listen
Griffin
Cosy stands on the opposite side of the small living room, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes are red and puffy, a clear indication she’s been crying. I hate Imogen so much for forcing me to come here and have this conversation that likely isn’t going to go anywhere good. How can it?
“Imogen broke off the engagement almost six months ago. As far as I was concerned, we were over. Until today, I had no idea she was pregnant.”
“Is she the one who broke it off because you travel too much for work?”
I look down at my shoes. “Yes.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
“It was the biggest one. She left me an extensive list of my shortcomings.”
“Like a grocery list?”
“More like a manifesto, or a thesis paper.”
“What a . . .” She shakes her head with something like disdain. “How far along is she?”
I raise my head. “Twenty-six weeks.”
She swallows hard. “So it’s yours.”
“We don’t know that for sure.” It’s so lame, but it’s out of my mouth before I can reconsider how I frame my response.
“Really, Griffin?” Her voice rises along with her incredulity. “Pretty sure since you were engaged to her, it’s yours!”
I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure a way out of this that doesn’t include losing the one good thing in my goddamn world. I don’t want Imogen back. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life raising a child with her. Which sounds horribly selfish and dickish, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to be tied to her for the rest of my life, and now I am.
She doesn’t make me happy. I don’t love her, and maybe now, in this moment,
I can admit I never truly did. Not the way I should have, anyway. She was stable and predictable, and she fit into my world, but we didn’t fit together. I see it in the way my brothers are with their significant others, the way my parents are with each other. They have that soul-deep love that allows them to weather all the storms. I would’ve weathered them with Imogen if we’d gotten married, but I would never have been truly happy with her.
Cosy, on the other hand, is everything I didn’t know I wanted. Or needed. She’s everything warm and good and perfect in this world. She’s sweet and innocent; she’s knowledge and adventure. And I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with her.
The realization hits me with the force of a semi truck skidding around a corner at seventy miles per hour, almost knocking me on my ass. But it’s Cosy’s next words that do that in the metaphorical sense.
“Look, Griffin, I really like you. It’s been fun. But this.” She motions between us, eyes never meeting mine. “It always had an expiration date. You were always going back to New York, and I was always going off to the next place.”
“We were making a plan,” I remind her.
“Well, now there’s a wrench in it, the kind you’re responsible for, for at least a couple of decades, if you’re lucky. You can’t be with me if you’ve having a baby with someone else, least of all someone you were engaged to.”
I want to fight her on this. I want to tell her that in my head I had her working at Mills Hotels, not directly under me because I know there’s no way she’d tolerate that, but still, she’d be working for my family. And then she’d still be close, and I’d find a way for her to come with me on every single trip out of the country. We’d see the world together. But I’m not stupid. I know if I say any of this to her, she’s going to freak out. And she would have every right to.
“A lot could happen between now and the baby being born.” Jesus. I sound like an idiot.
She lifts her eyes, and her expression breaks my stupid fucking heart. It’s full of pain, disbelief, uncertainty. “You’re right. A lot could happen. That woman is carrying a life inside her, and you’re fifty percent responsible for that happening even if you don’t want to be. You don’t get to be selfish about this, Griffin. Your attention needs to be on the mother of your child. It doesn’t matter how much I like you, or if you think I make you happy and she doesn’t. None of that matters anymore. I can’t get in the way of this. I won’t be the reason a kid grows up in a broken home. You have to give this a fair shot, and I refuse to be the reason you don’t.” She brushes past me and heads down the hall to the door.
I know once I leave, it’s truly the end. She’ll never want to see me again. She’s only twenty-two. She’ll bounce back. In a month, she’ll be somewhere across the ocean, and some guy who isn’t me will get to fall in love with her. And I’ll be preparing to raise a baby with someone I don’t love. “Cosy, please—”
Her head bows, her raven hair covering her face for a few seconds before she finally looks up at me, eyes liquid and so torn. “Please, Griffin, just let me go. Please tell me goodbye. Please say I’m right and you understand.”
I want to tell her she’s not right, that I need her, that I’ll find a way out of this. But I can’t say any of those things with certainty. Instead of giving her what she wants, I force my way into her personal space, trapping her between the door and my body. I take her face in my hands. “Tell me you don’t feel what I feel.”
She stares at my mouth, eyes swimming with pain that makes my chest ache. “What I feel is irrelevant, Griffin.” She closes her eyes, refusing to look at me as I memorize her perfect, beautiful face, features etched through with anguish I put there.
Even though I shouldn’t, I press my lips against hers—unyielding and unforgiving. It’s not how I want this to end. “Cosy.”
The sound that comes out of her is pure agony, but her lips part, and I sweep inside her mouth. She latches onto my wrists for the briefest moment before her fingers slide into my hair and grab on. We kiss until we’re breathless, and she finally pushes away.
I try to hold her to me. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Her body is rigid, and her voice is tired. “You have to go now, Griffin.”
She unlocks her door with shaking hands. Opening it, she tips her chin up and lifts her azure gaze. All that pain is locked away, and in its place is sad resolve. She presses her fingers to her lips and then taps them over my chest. “Please do the right thing.” Leave me alone. Don’t call. Don’t torment me.
“I’ll try.”
“Promise.”
I exhale slowly as I step into the hall, trying to find a way to alleviate the weight on my chest, but the next words I utter are like a gavel, sentencing my heart to a lifetime of emptiness. “I’ll do the right thing.”
Chapter Eighteen: Misery Loves Coolers and Cristal
Cosy
So that saying that misery loves company is a load of garbage. Misery and loneliness go hand in hand, though. I might be surrounded by people, but I feel like I’m alone on an island called Heartbreak Hell and my SOS is never going to be seen.
Love sucks balls. Big huge smelly goat balls. I miss Griffin so much, it’s a physical pain in my chest. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t even think properly.
Two days after he walked out of my apartment and my life, I pay my internship advisor a visit.
“Cosy, how are you?” Ms. Doobie gives me a slightly concerned, inquisitive smile.
It’s the look everyone wears when they see me. I’m exhausted and depressed, and even when I smile, I feel my sadness seeping from my pores, functioning as anti-attraction pheromones. Even Landon, who has done a great job of ignoring me since Griffin basically peed a circle around me, asked if I was okay today.
“I’m great.” My voice is flatter than a pancake.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah, totally.” I force a smile that probably makes me look insane. “I wanted to talk to you about my internship placement.”
“Of course, come on in. While placement announcements won’t be made for a couple more days, I can tell you there’s a good chance you’ll get your first choice.” She winks and leads me into her office.
“About that, I know I had New York as my top internship location, but I’ve done a lot of thinking and I feel based on my experiences so far, it would be a good idea to explore a different avenue. I know it might not be possible, but I’m interested in the cruise ship option, and I’d like to shift it to my number-one request.” I keep my hands clasped together and my feet firmly planted on the floor.
I’d be in the middle of an ocean, so there’s no risk of me doing something stupid, like seeking Griffin out because we’re in the same damn city.
Ms. Doobie does that thing people do when they want to parent you, but aren’t your parents. “Have you ever been on a cruise ship before?”
“Yes.” I’ve canoed and kayaked, and once I stayed on a houseboat for a night, so it’s almost the same.
“You’re sure you don’t want New York? I know they’d love to have you.”
“I’m sure. I’d like to see more of the world outside of my own country and I think this will be a great experience.” And getting off the continental US might help my poor broken heart heal.
She regards me for a few moments and then breaks out into a wide grin. “Well, then, I might have the perfect opportunity for you.” She shuffles some papers on her desk—it’s pretty messy, things stacked haphazardly all over the place—until she finds a brochure. “This came across my desk this morning. It’s very last minute but a fabulous opportunity on a very prestigious cruise line. It’s a six-week internship instead of four, though, and if you do well, the future job opportunities will be fabulous.”
“That sounds great, and the longer the better.” It lacks enthusiasm, so I follow up with a bright smile. “More practical experience is even better, right?”
“If it’s the right placement,
definitely, and I think this would be a perfect fit. It’s funny, isn’t it? I was just wracking my brain, trying to come up with a student who would be a good match for this, and then you stop by.”
“Seems like a pretty lucky coincidence.” Thank you, karma, for not being an asshole today.
“It certainly does. Now, the only issue is that because of the length of the placement, it starts two weeks earlier, which means you’ll have to finish your final assignments and submit them online, or when you return. If you’re serious about this, I can get clearance from your professors without a problem, but you’d be leaving on Monday. I know you have a job, so I’m not sure if that’s going to be an issue for you since the turnaround time is so tight.”
“I can make it work.” Nev needs a job, anyway.
“Excellent. I’m so excited for you, Cosy. This is a fabulous opportunity, and I know you’ll do us all proud. I’ll email you the comprehensive overview of the internship and a list of the things you’ll need to pack. You have a busy week ahead of you!”
“Thanks, Ms. Doobie. I promise I’ll kick some serious internship butt.”
“I have no doubt.”
I leave her office knowing this is the right thing to do, even if it feels like I stepped all over my own heart.
* * *
My phone buzzes on my bed, bumping against my suitcase. I glance at the screen and my stomach twists and flips. Twenty-four hours from now, I won’t get these alerts. I’ve been warned that internet and reception can be spotty on the ship unless I pay the fifty extra dollars a week to tap into the Wi-Fi.
I can afford it, but it’s better for me to only have access when we dock at port based on the number of times Griffin has messaged me this week. I left clothes at his hotel, I have a toothbrush, hairbrush, underwear, a lip balm, a notepad, there as well.
He forgot to mention my heart, but maybe he doesn’t realize he has that too.
I messaged him back after that, asking if there were notes on the pad. Clearly it was a ploy to engage me since it was blank.
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