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Lauren patted her arm. “Did he break it off? Because maybe you could still see each other if you like him that much.”
“I can’t. I can’t go back there.”
“To New York? Come on. It’s not that bad. You’re just being a wuss.”
She laughed again, though the sound was a little clogged with tears. “I hate that place.”
“You lived there for years. You’re telling me there’s nothing you like about it?”
Veronica shrugged. “The food is good. And I like Central Park.”
“Well, there you go. Dinner and brunch and walks in the park and sex. Come on. That’s a long weekend right there.”
Isabelle nodded. “If the sex was worth it, anyway.”
“Oh, it was worth it,” Veronica said. Then she growled in frustration. “God, it was so worth it and I hate him for that, too. He was...” She waved a hand, trying and failing to find the words, but her friends nodded as if they understood.
“Maybe I won’t kill him, after all,” Lauren said.
“So you both think I shouldn’t be mad at him?”
Lauren scoffed. “I think you should be as mad as you want. He asked you to trust him and he knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Fuck that shit. We’ll all hate him with you if you want.”
That sounded good. Helpful. But...no. She didn’t want that. She didn’t really hate him at all, so she couldn’t stand the thought of her friends hating him. “No. But thanks for listening.”
Isabelle poked her arm. “We expect more details later, you know. But for now, would another drink help?”
Veronica took stock of her insides and shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood. Just saying it all out loud seemed to have helped. She was starting to let go of a little of her shock, and she found herself laughing with Lauren about the letters they’d heard during the performance. A few minutes later, Lauren was trying to bribe Veronica into letting her see the night’s letters that she hadn’t used, but before Veronica could finish saying no, her phone buzzed.
“Hold on,” she said, pulling it out of her purse.
“Is it Gabe?”
It wasn’t Gabe. It was only her email alert, but Veronica still held up a hand and read the email. “Oh, no,” she breathed.
Lauren grabbed her hand. “What is it?”
“It’s not Gabe,” she said immediately.
Lauren slumped with relief.
Veronica read to the end of the message. It wasn’t Gabe, but it was bad news. The teenager had finally written back, and even though he thanked her for the advice, he didn’t think it would help him. You don’t understand, he said. Nothing good will ever happen for me.
Veronica pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry. It’s something to do with my column. I need to take care of it.”
“Do you want us to walk you home?” Isabelle asked, but Veronica was already moving toward the door.
“No, thanks!” she called. “Lauren, I’ll let you know when I hear about Gabe’s dad!”
As soon as she was outside, Veronica toed off the heels she’d been so happy with earlier and jogged toward her place in her bare feet.
Nothing good will ever happen for me. I don’t want to talk to anyone about it. It’ll be better for everyone if I’m gone.
She paused halfway to her apartment and wrote a quick reply.
Are you there? Can I write back to you at this address? I really want to talk to you.
Hitting Send, she took off for her place again. Her phone buzzed just as she reached her front door. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, but she didn’t get her wish. Her email had been returned as undeliverable just like last time. “Shit!” she cursed as she struggled with her keys and finally got the door open.
