“Yeah, that’s him.”
“You didn’t tell us he was hot! Or that it’s literally Connor Hayes!” Sadie says. “I hate him, obviously. But damn.” She looks over our shoulders towards the ballroom entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of Connor. Not that he’s anywhere to be seen.
I giggle despite myself. If there’s anyone who can make me laugh about this situation, it’s my sisters. Connor still being as hot as ever makes this whole situation worse.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I say.
Sadie snorts. “Too late for that now. You know mom and dad are going to want all the details.”
“I didn’t know he’d be here!” I protest. “He should have to explain what he did instead of me having to explain his indiscretions.”
Sadie’s eyes are sharp with anger when they meet mine. “Wait. Did he cheat on you? Because I’ve heard enough horror stories about dating hockey players.”
“No, he didn’t cheat on me.”
I never doubted for a second that Connor was in love with me. I never worried that he was going to find someone more interesting, someone funnier or prettier. When he looked at me, I knew I was the only one he wanted, and he told me that every day.
He sent me flowers the night after we met with a card that said I should call him when I was ready, and he hoped I did because he wanted to see me again. I didn’t call him for a week because I’d been love bombed before and he was older and more experienced. What the hell did he want with me? But the excitement in his voice was like a kid waking up to all his favorite toys on Christmas morning.
The intensity of being wanted by Connor Hayes was scary and wonderful. It was a heady experience that I never wanted to recover from.
“What did he do?” Sadie asks. “I’m going to hate him regardless, but I’d like to channel my anger productively.”
I snort at her phrasing. When my parents put me into therapy, they thought it would be a good idea to send my sisters as well. It seemed to work for them better than it did for me. It’s not the therapist’s fault when the universe wants to continuously prove I’m right. I have an inkling and I’m rarely wrong.
“He left, Sadie,” I say. “One day he was just gone. No phone call, no text. I went to his apartment, and he’d left a fucking letter with the doorman.”
“What did the letter say?”
Opening my purse, I grab the letter from the back pocket and hold it out for her. Sadie’s mouth drops open.
“Scarlett! You never read it?”
“What would be the point?” I put the letter back. “Sadie, he left. Anything he had to say, he could have said over a phone call or text. He never tried to get in touch with me, not even to check if I got the letter or if I read it. That tells me whatever is in the letter isn’t that important.”
Sadie frowns, but doesn’t say anything. Truth is, I couldn’t bring myself to read the letter those first few months. I knew whatever was in it was just going to make my heart hurt worse. After that, it didn’t make much sense to revisit it.
“You obviously still care, otherwise you wouldn’t be carrying it around with you,” Sadie says.
Ugh, sisters.
“I thought you hate Connor?” I arch an eyebrow at her.
“I do,” she agrees, widening her hazel eyes. “I also want to know what’s in that love letter he wrote you.”
“It’s not a love letter,” I say with a laugh. How can it be a love letter when he used it to dump me?
“What love letter?” Mom asks, turning to us.
“The one that Connor wrote to her, and she never read because she was rightfully angry he left without saying goodbye,” Sadie says.
Mom gasps and I elbow Sadie lightly in the side. I held onto this heartbreak for a year and a half, and she revealed it in less than a second. Dad, Sienna, and Harvey are talking in the distance and thankfully haven’t heard.
I grab mom’s hand. “Please, let’s not talk about this. I don’t want it to overshadow Sienna’s wedding, please.”
Mom pinched her lips together and nodded. I can tell she wants to know more but she also knows I’m right. We’re here for Sienna and should be focusing on her wedding going smoothly. We’ll have family descending on us soon and we need to get everything in order.
“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Mom says.
