Page 81 of The Truth of Us

Emily turned the screen, and a photograph filled it. A champagne glass, firelight, a woman's hand wrapped around an arm wearing a black suit. The caption underneath read:

“I think glitter freckles might be my favorite thing about this year.”

Theo leaned forward. "The hell is a glitter freckle?"

Emily gasped. "No."

"What?" Theo asked.

"No way." Emily seemed really focused on her phone.

Lucy frowned. "What?"

Emily looked horrified. "I think Oliver Hastings is dating someone."

Who the fuck cares?

Caleb's attention sharpened slightly, and Emily continued scrolling.

"That's so crazy, he is notoriously single, or just hides it really well, and it is usually just him in his social stuff. This feels so cloak and dagger, I wonder who she is..."

Lucy laughed. "Do you even know him?"

"No," Emily sighed and then locked her phone, pouting, “He is just so yummy I want to lick his tattoos.”

Caleb laughed, saying, “No more champagne for you.” At the same time, Theo said, "I have tattoos."

Everyone looked at him.

"You have tattoos?" Emily asked.

"I have several." He replied, then he waggled his eyebrows, asking, “Want to see them?”

Laughter broke out around the group, and I looked away. Back toward the windows, and the city that felt more and more empty.

Five minutes to midnight. The countdown screens appeared, and fresh champagne was distributed. People paired off. Everyone prepared for the moment that a new year began.

I felt nothing.

A woman I didn’t even realize was beside me touched my arm. I stepped away before she could say anything. Then I walked outside. Cold air hit my face immediately. The city stretched out beneath me. Beautiful, but tonight it looked unforgiving and made me feel lonely.

My phone was already in my hand. I called Harper. Straight to an automated message, I was pretending didn’t mean she had blocked me or changed her number. Same as every other time.

I stood there, staring at the screen. Then called again, again and again. I don’t know why I expected a different outcome. It wasn’t even taking me to her voicemail; I just wanted to hear her voice. My chest tightened, and I rubbed it, thinking about how hollow Christmas had felt this year. I hadn’t heard from my parents, but that wasn’t a surprise; we didn’t talk unless it was advantageous for them and in a public setting.

I pulled up her work number, the one she almost never answered personally. The one Timothy probably screened. I listened to it ring, then the voicemail picked up, and I got to hear her voice for a few seconds. I almost hung up; instead, I closed my eyes.

"Harper." The city noise drifted around me. "I know you don't want to talk to me." A gust of wind blew snow around me. "I know you probably blocked my number." A humorless laugh escaped me. "I deserve that." The words hurt because they were true. "I just..."

My throat tightened. When did talking become difficult?

"I miss you." The admission came out rough. "I miss talking to you." I stared out over Chicago. "I miss your voice." My hand tightened around the phone. "I miss you making fun of me. You would have hated this party, and I would have loved you dissecting everything about what it said about the person who threw it and the people who attended. You would have had a field day with Emily and Theo…"

The countdown started inside.

Ten.

Nine.