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But the phone remained silent, and I could practically see it in my mind—Gillian setting the phone on her nightstand, getting back into bed, murmuring an apology to Anthony, not giving this another thought.…
I ran my hands through my hair and took a shaky breath. I was fine. I was more than fine. I was figuring things out on my own. I didn’t need her.
Really? Katy whispered, her voice gentle.
And that was all it took. The tears spilled over, and I put my hands over my eyes and cried.
I didn’t care, in that moment, that I was sobbing in the driveway of an international celebrity. I gave up on caring if anyone saw me—because there was no stopping this.
I was crying for my mom. And all that I’d wanted and hadn’t gotten. And how exhausting it was to pretend that I didn’t need her or want her, when it was a flimsy lie that wasn’t even fooling me. I was crying for the way that even when she was saying all the right things, I couldn’t trust that she meant it. I was crying for the way I’d spoken to her, and how I already regretted it.
I cried for me, and for Russell, and the way it felt like we’d come close to something real, something special, for just a moment tonight before it all fell apart. I cried for the fear and exhaustion of the last three days, having to be so vigilant, while Romy got to run off and do whatever she wanted, because she knew that I would be there, holding down the fort and picking up the pieces. I cried for the way college already felt ruined and tainted, and for how I wasn’t excited and optimistic about it like my friends—like this was just one more thing I didn’t get. I cried because of the mess I’d made of everything, and the way I felt so trapped.
And finally, I cried because I was tired and cold and hungry and alone, and there were rocks digging into my legs.
I was just starting to pull it together a little when I felt something small and soft climb into my lap, and I froze.
Andy—who’d managed to escape again—was looking up at me.
CHAPTER 11 Sunday
11:00 P.M.
Um. Hi,” I said. I ran my hand over the dog’s head and just left it there for a moment. God, he was a comfort right now. I took a shaky breath and tried to pull myself together, running my hand over his ears. When I moved it, they popped straight up again. I pushed my hand down again, to flatten them—then lifted it up. After a moment, Andy’s ears sprang back up and I laughed for what felt like the first time in hours.
I gave him one more pet, then pushed myself up to standing, lifting the dog with me. I moved the tent and the duffel onto the fake grass so they wouldn’t be in the way in case anyone needed to drive out, then picked up my canvas bag and started the long walk up the driveway.
I wasn’t sure how to get the dog back into the house—the last thing I wanted was to ring the “Darcy” doorbell, interrupt dinner, make a big fuss. But by the time I’d passed the balloon dog sculpture, I could see Chloe standing on the front steps.
I waved, incredibly relieved that I could just hand Andy off and go. “The dog got out again,” I called as I held him up, like she needed proof.
“Huh. Weird.” She seemed so unsurprised by this, I figured it must happen a lot. She opened the door and stepped through. “Let’s get him in.”
I’d been thinking I’d just hand him to her on the steps, but she was already in the foyer, so I didn’t see any choice but to follow her back inside.
She shut the door once I was in, and I handed the dog back to her. “Good boy,” she murmured to Andy before setting him down. He immediately tore off in the direction of the kitchen. I wasn’t going to say anything to Chloe, but honestly, no wonder this dog was always escaping if he was getting these mixed messages. “Thanks for bringing him back,” Chloe said, then her eyes widened as she looked at me. “Oh my god.”
I looked down and remembered what I was wearing. “Oh, right. I can turn it inside out?”
“No, it’s just that I can’t believe he ever thought that hair was the way to go.” Her smile faltered as she took a step closer to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. But I’d just cried harder than I had in years—of course it was going to show up on my face.
“I’m not sure you are.”
“No, I’m good.” My voice was getting high and tight, the way it always did when I was lying. But luckily, Chloe didn’t know that.
“I kind of think you’re lying.”
“I’ve already taken up way too much of your time. I’ll just—”
“Get an Uber to the bus station?” She made each of these things sound increasingly unappealing.
“Um, yes—”
“Last bus to LA leaves at midnight. It’s half an hour from here to the Strip, more if there’s traffic. Maybe you’ll make it if you leave right now. But the closest Uber is twenty minutes away.” She showed me her phone, and my heart sank as I looked at the distinct lack of cars around our little dot on the map.
“Oh well. That’s okay. I can just wait.”
