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The time we spent together wasn’tnothingto me. The past few days with her were everything. After being so lonely for four long years, her companionship in that short span of time revived a part of me that I’d long accepted was dead and gone.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
What’s important to remember is that these feelings are all one-sided. That heady reminder is the only thing that keeps me from jerking off to the thought of her in the shower.
Finally, a grain of self-respect. I was getting worried for a minute there.
I stay under the hot stream until the water in the pipes turns cold and most of my tension has slid down the drain.When I’m out and wrapped in a white, fluffy towel, I order room service from the inn’s kitchen. I’m sure everyone else is out there pigging out on what was meant to be tonight’s wedding menu, but I can’t stomach going back downstairs.
I reach for my phone but I stop myself. It’s probably not healthy to spend the next few hours flipping through those photos of Alana and me at the waterfall.
So I guess it’s just me and whatever old movies I can manage to get playing on the Kingston’s ancient VCR. After I popMrs. Doubtfireinto the old device, I drop down on top of the comforter and put my plate on my lap.
But all the jokes in the movie seem to fall flat tonight. What the hell? I remember it being funnier than this. What the fuck happened? Is it just my shitty mood?
Jabbing the remote, I turn the movie off. I need to be alone, to stew in my miserable reality on my own. No escaping my gloom tonight.
Because yes, me and Alana had deep conversations, wild rainforest sex and multiple orgasms, but nothing’s changed—she still doesn’t want me.
26
ALANA
Apparently,lemons to lemonadeis the theme tonight.
We’re here at what would have been Meghan and Cash’s wedding reception.
Despite the ceremony being canceled, the would-be bride and groom decided at the last minute to turn tonight’s reception hall into a party of sorts.
It was kind of funny to see Harry and Mason running around and trying to stop the guesthouse staff from taking all the decorations down. Afterwards, everyone changed into comfy clothes and now we’re making the most of the evening.
The place is still decorated in the bride’s colors, with dainty flowers and lace that would have perfectly matched our bridesmaid dresses. Twinkle lights adorn the ceiling, and the jazz band is playing live music.
I make my rounds at the buffet then come back to find that Nadia and Emma saved me a seat at their table. It seems weird to be eating what was supposed to be the wedding reception dinner, but it makes no sense to let all the food go to waste.I’m sitting with a heaping plate in front of me. But I soon realize that I don’t have an appetite. The hunger pains I feel can only be satisfied by one man.
Please, Alana. Don’t do this to yourself.
I glance over to the door, hoping to see him stride into the room. Everybody’s here at this impromptu pseudo-wedding reception. But Davis is nowhere to be found. I’m wondering if he’ll eventually show face or if he plans to just hide out in his room all night.
Wow—what a steaming mess we’ve made. I blame myself for making things awkward. For making him feel like he can’t be here right now, spending this important time with his family.
I push my heaping plate aside. Elbows on the table and my chin propped up by my palms, I sigh, blowing my bangs out of my face. I’m watching Cash sweep his would-be bride around the dance floor. They’re both in their sneakers, sweatshirts, and worn jeans, plucking cat fur off of each other’s clothes and dancing to their song,Something to Talk About, on what was supposed to be their wedding night.
No amount of pink twinkle lights will hide the sadness on my bestie’s face.
But that doesn’t stop Cash from trying. Meghan leans her head against her man’s chest, and he wraps her up in his arms, whispering in her ear. The way he loves her is so pure, so sweet and unconditional.
It makes me miss being loved that way.
That conversation I had in the car with Davis this morning felt like breaking up all over again. Not that we were back together or anything. But still, that’s how it felt.
It’s been a lonely four years. But three nights of Davis’s companionship wiped that all away. He made me feel sexy, desirable, wanted, understood.
Loved.
And now, I’ve lost it all again. This time, losing Davis feels like standing in the blistering cold at the bus stop in the dead of winter—with frostbite nipping at my fingers and toes, wet snow slapping at my cheeks—and having to watch everyone drive by in their cars full of warmth and laughter. It’s brutal. It’s cruel. And I can’t stand it.
But despite the melancholy I feel, I know he’s right.
