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The last week has been hard. Two days after the party, Lyndsey left with Nate to spend spring break in Key West Florida at his family’s vacation home. She called and texted every day, but after the third day, I assured her I would be fine and to go and enjoy herself.
It was a total lie, of course.
I’m anything but fine. Lyndsey has always been my rock, my pillar of strength, holding me upright when times get tough. And her absence has made that gaping hole in my chest feel as though it could swallow me whole.
Cadence and Chelsea have done their best to fill her shoes by hounding the crap out of me all week. After many failed attempts to get me to go out, they decided to organize a sci-fi movie night at Cadence’s house. Unfortunately for them, I haven’t exactly been a willing participant. Even if the idea of watching Ripley shoot the shit out of some angry aliens did sound somewhat appealing.
I love my girls. I really do. And I know they are only trying to help, but I honestly have preferred to be alone. I’ve started reading some of my favorite romance novels again and even downloaded several new ones to my e-reader in an attempt to escape reality as much as I can.
Logan has been calling and texting nonstop. Each text message consists of the same thing over and over again.
He loves me.
He is sorry.
He would do anything to win me back.
After I read three of them, I put my phone aside and have been ignoring his texts and calls ever since. I figured that would be enough for him to take the hint. But Logan being Logan, took it upon himself to rock up at my front door twice. Unfortunately, this got my mother involved, and when my mother gets involved in anything, all it does is add more drama to the already existing drama.
She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t see him and proceeded to interrogate me until I finally relented and told her what had happened. Confiding in my mother went as expected. She pretty much shrugged it off, claiming boys will be boys, and they make mistakes.
My phone chimes with a message, and I pick it up, breathing a sigh of relief that it’s a message from Lyndsey and not Logan.
Lyndsey: I will be there in 30 minutes, babe.
Blowing out a breath, I slowly drag myself out of bed and walk into my en suite bathroom. After I shower and get dressed, I give myself a quick spray of perfume then head downstairs to the kitchen.
As I enter the large modern kitchen, I spot my mother standing by the island bench drinking coffee, looking out to the view ofSteilacoom Lakefrom one of the many large windows that run along the far wall of our kitchen.
It’s a beautiful morning. The sun breaks through the gaps in the clouds, casting rays of light on the mist that hovers over the lake giving it an eerie yet enchanting feeling.
“Good morning,” I greet her as I walk over to the coffee machine and grab a mug out of the cupboard. I pour myself a cup and turn to look at her. She is dressed immaculately in a navy-blue wrap dress and nude heels. Her blonde hair is pinned up into a tight bun, and her makeup is applied to perfection. It amazes me how someone who drinks like she does every night can wake up the following day and piece herself in such perfect precision. Doesn’t she have the hangover from hell? Or has six years of alcoholism built up her tolerance to it?
She looks me up and down, her brows pinching together as she scrutinizes my choice of outfit. “Is that really what you are wearing?”
I look down at my appearance. I honestly didn’t feel like making a fashion statement today and instead chose to go simple by wearing blue jeans, a white tank top with a cardigan to match.My blonde hair is tied up into a neat ponytail. I may not look like a runway model, but I look presentable.
“What is wrong with it?” I ask, then take a sip of my coffee. “I’m going for the casual look today.”
“I can see that. Don’t you think you should put some makeup on at least? You can’t expect Logan to give you a sufficient grovel when you look like trailer trash.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want him to grovel. He cheated. It’s over.”
“I honestly think you should talk to him. That boy is beside himself. I spoke to Patricia yesterday, and she told me he has been depressed all week. He’s not eating, and he won’t leave the house.”
Patricia Spencer is Logan’s mother. She’s a quiet, down-to-earth woman who has a way of making you feel comfortable in her presence. I spent a lot of time at her house growing up and even more when I was dating Logan.
“He should have thought of that before he slept with Hadley for six months. It’s his own fault.”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, she walks over to the sink and turns the tap on, rinsing out her cup. “Well, he is young; maybe you needed to spice things up in the bedroom. Men do need a bit of variety in their sex lives.”
I clutch my chest as it heaves with violent coughs in an attempt to keep my coffee from entering my lungs. After I’ve pulled myself together, I look at her, utterly perplexed and wondering where her second head is.
What the actual fuck?
“Are you serious?” I snap. “First of all, there is no way in hell I am having this conversation with you, and second, I refuse to take the blame for this. If he was bored, he should have broken up with me, not cheated on me.”
She turns from the sink and places her hands on her hips. “There is no need to get an attitude with me. I’m only trying to help.”
