AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"No, thank you," I said, my voice sounding somewhat shredded, thin and tight. "Just the check."
The wraith floated away, and I sighed. Maybe I would walk home. It was a long walk, through at least four Chicago neighborhoods, and I was wearing an unfortunately high pair of heels, but it would give Harry time to grab whatever he needed.
You're not even going to fight to keep him?
No. I wasn't.
I'd spent almost three years trimming little pieces of myself away to fit into a life with Harry. Not because he'd asked me to, but because I was scared of what I secretly wanted. Because what Harry offered was safer, simpler. I told myself that I was cultivating a life that made sense for me.
Without Harry, I would have no excuse not to let those dangerous parts of me grow. Already, my skin tingled, as if new sprouts would suddenly burst forth right here in the trendy restaurant, thorny vines newly vengeful for their years of being stifled. I wanted them to cut through the shell of me, yet I was terrified at the idea of discovering what really grew beneath.
I would learn soon enough.
"Do you think your subscribers will even notice he's gone?" Natalie asked, watching me hold up a piece of art to the wall in front of me, examining it against the rest of my collection. She had her son, Emmett, on her hip as she bobbed in place, rocking back and forth in the steady movement of motherhood while Emmett cooed and yanked on a stray braid of black hair.
"Umm…" It was true, I hadn't made much use of Harry in my social media. Harry hadn't seemed interested in being a part of my "brand." In fact, he'd been more confused about my work than anything.
Why an illustrator and an interior decorator influencer? he'd asked.
"I don't think I'm going to make a thing out of it," I admitted with a shrug, pulling down the art I'd been considering and staring at the new blank space on the wall—the spot where a portrait I'd drawn of Harry reading had been placed. There were little pockmarks all over my small carriage house now. The places I'd made room for Harry's interests, now subtracted. He'd been texting me instructions of what to pack up for him for almost two weeks since our disastrous dinner.
"Is he taking the portrait?" Natalie asked.
I sighed and turned to face her and the table where a few unhung prints of mine were resting. "I have no idea. He's… He went to stay with Jimmy and Kenley. He texted to tell me he found a place. He wants a week to be able to move out."
"What do you mean?" Natalie asked, frowning, her warm brown eyes zeroing in on me.
I flicked my gaze up and darted it away just as quickly. "A week without me here."
Technically, Harry had asked for "at least three days, no more than a week." Considering the situation, I thought being generous and offering as much time as he wanted was only fair.
"No way," Natalie scoffed, pulling her hair free from Emmett's grip with a wince. "What if he trashes this place? Or takes stuff that doesn't really belong to him?"
"It's Harry," I reasoned with a shrug.
Natalie snorted. "True."
Harry was mild. Responsible. Fair.
"You don't deserve to have your place trashed just because you broke up with a nice guy," Natalie said, voice lowering.
"What?" I gasped, staring at her.
Her lips quirked. Emmett was falling asleep in her arms now, her steady, repetitive motion slowing down.
"I know you, Sunny. I know why you stayed with Harry for so long. Maybe I don't know why you felt like it wasn't the right relationship for you," she said, one eyebrow raising, an invitation for me to fess up. I pressed my lips firmly together, and she continued. "And I know you feel guilty for finally being put in a position where you had to be the one who broke things off. But just because you hurt Harry, doesn't make you a bad person," Natalie whispered.
Natalie did know me. We'd been friends growing up in the suburbs together, friends through college, friends here in the city, constantly marveling that we were now adults living somewhat adjusted versions of our childhood dreams. I'd only really been able to make a living through my art after my PicsApp account grew popular with my daily decoration and documentation of this carriage house. Natalie wasn't the famous fashion designer she'd predicted, but she was a stylist for the young wives of the financial district. We'd grown into our new dreams together.
And maybe a little part of me had found Harry comfortable because Natalie had just married her husband Theo—a friendly werewolf who burnt off his pre-full moon energy at the same gym as Natalie. Natalie had taken the next adult step, and I hadn't wanted to be left behind.
"I just felt like…I wasn't totally myself with Harry," I admitted.
"Harry was boring," Natalie reasoned without batting an eyelash. "Nice-boring. Like what other people think normal is."
"I'm not normal?" I asked, voice squeaking slightly.
Natalie huffed a soft laugh. "You're lots of things. You're the girl who screamed at those gargoyles for me when we were ten. You're a twee and charming social media influencer. And you're the woman whose imagination sometimes produces images that I can't even begin to understand where they came from."
