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Carter and I walk together to the parking lot, and we say our goodbyes.
As I watch him get inside his car from my aunt’s car, the heavy feeling in my chest makes its way down to my stomach.
I’m not supposed to be having fun with Carter one week before my supposed wedding. I’m not even over Larsonat all.
As the thought sinks further, I decide to drop by a convenience store in my stupid dress and stupid heels. I buy a bottle of tequila, walk back to my parked car, and drink it there like some bride-to-be whose wedding got canceled.
I take huge gulp after huge gulp in an attempt to drown out the pain.
The next thing I know, I’m drunkenly dialing Larson’s number as I wail inside the closed car.
Larson’s phone only rings once before dropping—he still has my number blocked.
And this only makes me cry more.
I wail at the top of my lungs.
Someone knocks gently on my window as if they can hear how pathetic I am.
I try to pull myself together, thinking that the cops have been called because of my breakdown or some concerned strangers decided to check up on me.
Trying my best to wipe my face, I roll down the window only to find Carter looking at me with a sad smile. “Hey, Estelle, you okay there?”
Chapter Eight
SeeingCarter’sfaceunderthe white light of the streetlights sobers me up.
Even with tears in my eyes and my mascara falling off my eyelashes in what could be dark tear lines down my cheeks, I think he still looks lovely.
I don’t, but I’m just glad to see a friendly face right now.
My heart hurts so much.
So, I step out of the vehicle to face Carter, who genuinely looks concerned about me. I guess anyone would be concerned about me. I’m sure I look like shit,just as I feel like shit.
Although I’m embarrassed to be standing before Carter in such a vulnerable state, I could really use a friend right now. So, letting out another cry, I put my arms around Carter’s neck for an embrace.
I feel his body tighten at my touch, but in a matter of seconds, he hugs me in return, rubbing my back to console me.
He lets me cry on his shoulder for the next few minutes. I’m glad he doesn’t ask me any questions until I gently pull away from him.
I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, I’m just… messed up at the moment.”
“I noticed,” Carter confesses. “After our dinner, I saw your mood change, and I thought, just as a precaution, I should follow you… here. And I’m glad I did because you… you look like you need a listening ear.”
I repeatedly nod, no longer caring how pitiful I look. “I do.”
I bend down to reach for the half-consumed bottle of tequila inside the car, and I pass it to Carter. “Want to drink with me?”
Carter takes the bottle without hesitation and swigs it. He lets the bitter taste burn his throat before handing it back to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Suddenly feeling tired, I slide to the cemented ground and lean my back against theMini Cooper.Expecting Carter to judge me or drag me back up, he simply adjusts his slacks before joining me on the dirty ground.
With our legs stretched before us, I put the bottle of tequila between us, only a few inches away from each other’s bodies.
Looking up at the scattered stars above our heads, I decide to just tell Carter everything. “I’m supposed to get married in a week.”
From my periphery, I can see Carter watching me with carefulness. I wait for him to act surprised, say something intrusive like‘what happened?’or something. But after a few moments of silence, he just says, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
