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His eyebrow twitches exactly once. That is the only reaction my letter gets this time.
Hey, maybe I’ll throw myself in the trash too. Make a new home in the garbage can.
When Andre turns and signals the bartender for another drink, I snap. I’m done. Something fractures deep inside me, and I can’t bear it for a second longer.
“I’m out.”
The phone is dead to me, obviously, but my bag still hangs around Stephen’s neck. I yank it off him, strangling him with the strap for good measure, then I’m pushing through the crowd, headed for the exit.
Around me, I hear the words ‘Dear Hattie’ spoken aloud. Once, twice, three times. My face flushes impossibly brighter.
By the time I spill out into the cool night air, my eyes brim with unshed tears. I charge along the beach path, teeth chattering from horror.
Screw them. Screw everything. Screw Dear Hattie, and screw this town, and screw my own stupidity.
What was I thinking?
* * *
