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I crack my knuckles and stretch my arms then sit back down to get this over with. Now or never. I continue scrolling through my messages until I land on the word “engaged”. I stop to see what it says.
Did Drew tell the tabloids we’re still getting married?
Clicking the article is a mistake. A photo of Drew pops up. His arm is around the same woman he was caught cheating on me with.
The title reads “Drew Henry Engaged Again!”
I can’t be seeing this right. Something has to be wrong with my eyes. I rub them with my fists to make sure they’re working.
There’s no way my ex-fiancé is already engaged to the woman he was having an affair with. Nope, not possible. I have to be dreaming. It’s only been a week since I found out he was cheating on me, and now he’s engaged to her?
How long has he been seeing her? How can he bemarryingher?
I pinch myself to see if I’m awake. “Ouch!” I am.
This is real life.
What a slap in the face. First, he betrays me by breaking my trust and letting it play out for the world to see, now he's put a ring on her finger.
The only person I want to talk to right now is Georgia, so I exit Instagram and open my email. My inbox is so full there’s no way I’ll be able to read through everything. And I don’t even want to.
Clicking on the compose button, I start a new email to Georgia to let her know that I’m fine. For some reason, I leave out the details of Winterberry and the inn, but I lay everything else out and tell her exactly how I’m feeling. She’s my best friend after all, if I can’t do that with her, who can I lay my soul bare to?
As I’m writing, memories of our friendship flood my head. For so many years, Georgia was all I had. We were both trying to make something of ourselves and were living off Ramen noodles and hot dogs. With no family members, she became the family I didn’t have.
When I moved to New York City, I had to share a spider-infested apartment with four other girls. We’d met them during acting class, and we all had the same goals. So, the four of us rented a two-bedroom apartment. Georgia and I slept in the same room. It was so small we could barely fit our twin sized beds and a single dresser. We hung a threadbare sheet from the ceiling, between our beds, to give ourselves some privacy.
We shopped at secondhand shops and shared our beauty products because we couldn’t afford our own.
For holidays, I would either go home to Georgia’s parents' house and spend the day with them, or we would hide out in our shitty apartment and eat Chinese food.
She means the world to me, and the only thing I want to do right now is hug her. I want her to tell me it’ll be okay.
I quickly send off the email then close it out. I slip out of the office, hoping that no one notices me as I head outside. As much as I like Suzanne and Tom, I need to sort through my feelings. Alone.
I stand on the front porch and try to calm my rapid pulse. I was hurt when I found out Drew cheated on me, but this pain is on a whole new level.
As I look around, I see the Christmas decorations lighting up every inch of the inn and hate that this is happening during what’s supposed to be the most beautiful time of the year.
How will I come back from this?
Chapter Thirteen
Brent
Usually,assoonasmy head hits the pillow, I knock out. But tonight, I can’t fall asleep. I’ve spent the past hour tossing and turning. So many thoughts whirl in my mind.
I give up after a few more restless minutes. Tiptoeing out of my bedroom, I make my way down the hall and peek into Nora’s room. She’s sprawled out on her back, blonde curls surrounding her head like a halo, with her arms tight at her side under her blanket. The sight warms my chest. It takes everything in me not to go kiss her little head.
I miss Michelle every single day, but when I look at Nora and see the zest for life that she got from her mom, I’m happy. It’s taken a long time to get to this point.
I pad down the hall, sidestepping all the creaky floorboards so I don’t wake my little angel.
There are no lights on, so I feel my way into the kitchen, trying not to bump into anything. I don’t turn any lights on, because if I do, it’ll awaken the FOMO in my little rascal.
Maybe I just need to drink something.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and after chugging the whole thing, I still feel like shit. Rather than sit around overthinking, I grab my flannel coat, put my boots on, and quietly open the door. The cold air smacks me in the face and I immediately regret my decision.
