The last five years had been spent with Zane—albeit on again and off again—so the idea of being on my own actually felt like a bit of a relief. With that in mind, something awakened inside of me and glimpses of life flapped around the depths of my belly.
And with it came a dusting of uncertainty, creating a haze in my judgement.
“Ugh,” I groaned.
Then I remembered I wasn’t going to this party for me. Magnolia Nelson had been my person for as long as I could remember, present in every one of my good memories. But even more so, in every one of my bad memories, there she was, picking up the pieces.
Always there, no matter what.
So, based on her facial expressions alone, I knew everything I needed to know. I was going to Booker’s party, and I was going to have the biggest smile plastered on my face.
For her.
Chapter Three
“Scar?”
“In here. Just finishing getting ready,” I shouted from the bathroom down the hall.
Thick waves of rich brown hair fell past my shoulders, my fringe bangs framing my cheeks. The subtle dab of blush and deep red lipstick illuminated my face in a way that I hadn’t seen for weeks.
I’d tried to talk myself out of going at least a hundred times over the last few days, but ultimately, I knew that as soon as Maggie showed up, she would’ve forced me into different clothes and out of this apartment, so I chose to do so of my own free will. At least then I would approve of my outfit.
And now, despite the hint of guilt that still hung around, I was glad I had.
“Well, look at you.” Maggie’s smile lit up in the mirror. “All black tonight, I see,” she said, poking fun at my incessant love of the color. “No surprise there.”
“It’s not all black,” I said, holding my hands up and presenting my cherry-red nail polish.
She squinted back at me and continued. “And you’re wearing your black cowboy boots? Looks like someone might be a little more excited than she thought.” She grinned, her excitement dancing around her like lightning bugs on a warm summer night.
“Stop. You’re being dramatic.”
“No, seriously, Scar, you look great. You had me worried there for a bit. I’m just glad to see some of my girl poking through.”
The corner of my lips curved up, almost imperceptibly, as I gave my reflection a second look.
My black jean skirt was distressed enough to look casual but short enough to insinuate that I felt the slightest trace of a storm brewing at the bottom of my belly. My oversized black button-up was half tucked, displaying the black and gold belt buckle underneath. All pulled together with my absolute favorite black suede knee-high cowboy boots.
“Thanks, Mags.” I smiled. “And thanks for pushing me to go out with you tonight. I needed it.”
“Always.”
The last six months had been nothing short of shitty, but at some point, in the hours spent with myself, I realized I had a choice to make. I could move forward or I could stay stuck in the past, in a life that was no longer mine.
Did I feel heartbroken? In a way, yes. But throughout my obsessive deep dive into Zane’s and my relationship, I began to realize that the heartbreak I felt came from theideaof Zane and not actually Zane himself.
Over the last year or so, before the wedding, our lives had slowly crept into monotony. I’d just assumed that was normal, that all relationships dulled and sparks fizzled. But after peeling back the layers, I saw that our relationship hadn’t dulled or lost its spark… It’d just never had one to begin with.
And while I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want an answer as to why he’d called it off, or at least an explanation as to why he waited until our wedding day, there was something I’d found myself wanting more than any of that. I wanted fireworks. I wanted butterflies. I wanted a love that felt infinite.
But what if I didn’t deserve any of that? Andthatwas the real reason the wedding didn’t happen? Not because of Zane, but because of the choices I’d made in the past.
“Shit.” Maggie’s voice whipped me back to reality.
She was reaching for a can of hairspray that had fallen from the cabinet when I saw she was still in her work clothes.
“You’re not wearing that, are you?”
