‘Sam, please,’ Will cries. ‘I want to be left alone.’
What should I do? Has he crept to the other side of the door, peering at me through the peephole? Just in case he has, I address it. ‘If you want me to go, I will. But I just want you to know I’m here for you, all right?’
I wait, hoping he might speak. No other sound but the TV. I sigh.
I do the same thing the next morning, noticing an empty plate outside his door. He’s ordering room service. He’s eating. That’s a good sign. He speaks when I knock, but falls silent when I announce myself. Asks me to leave.
I wait a little longer this time, hoping he might let me in. In all senses. But he doesn’t.
As I leave the hotel, Lydia calls me back.
‘If anything changes, I will let you know.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
WILL
Day Fifteen
The only contact I’ve had from Ollie is a text asking me if I’m still going to marry him and Alec. I haven’t replied. He hasn’t pestered. Hasn’t asked me if I’m okay after that disgusting evening. I’ve considered deleting him off my social media channels. Instead, I deleted the apps from myphone.
Locking myself away in my hotel room, heading out only when it was quieter, I’ve had time to think, to journal the way my therapist told me to.
The root of my insecurities comes down to one dominant theme: comparing myself to others. I hated myself, and my internal dialogue called me everything from failure to worthless. When you speak to yourself that way, you believe it.
When others treat you that way, you accept it.
Now, something is changing within me.
The days in my hotel room confirm I don’t need lots of friends. Especially when those friends are surface level. I don’t need thousands of Instagram or Twitter followers. I don’t need the perfect job, the perfect apartment, the perfect curated feeds.
I need to accept myself, love myself, and go from there.
I finally answered one of Sam’s many calls last night.
‘Can’t talk right now,’ I said. ‘I just need some time to think. It’s nothing you’ve done. Let me wallow for a week.’
‘I’m here and waiting. Whenever you’re ready.’
Right now I feel everything.
And I need to feel those things alone.
The only person I let in is Alice.
As I lie on my bed, my phone perched on the lamp next to me, I stare into nothingness as I speak.
‘He said he never loved me,’ I say, for what is the hundredth time. Alice doesn’t mind. It’s as if she is hearing the words leave my mouth for the first time. ‘He tried to say it was all one-sided, like we were never a thing.’
‘Have you heard from him?’
It’s a question she’s already asked, and the answer remains the same.
‘Just a text,’ I say. ‘Didn’t ask how I was.’
The only other calls I’ve had were from Clive and an unknown number. I ignored them all.
‘Why don’t you come home?’ Alice asks.
