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Christmas won’t be the same without her.
And I’m worried it never will be again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Penelope
Thenextfewdaysbegin the same. I wake up in my California King bed, with my 400-thread-count sheets and down comforter. I press a button on the remote on my nightstand, and the shades lift, letting the morning light leak in.
This bed should be more comfortable than it is. I shouldn’t feel like a stranger in this room, but I do.
It’s like I’m living in someone else’s apartment, wearing someone else’s silk pajamas, and staring at a face I don’t recognize in the mirror.
I contacted my agent and publicist the day I got back, trying to resume my life.
Yesterday, I even stopped at a corner tree lot and bought myself a Christmas tree. I don’t have any lights or ornaments yet, but it’s a start. The interior of my penthouse is bland, so I need to go shopping for decor. Maybe that’ll make me feel better.
Each morning, I walk down my street. It’s not as peaceful as Winterberry—no one says hi and the air isn’t as fresh—but it’s something. I even found a diner I like. It has nothing on Sally’s Diner, but the food is decent enough. Every evening, after I eat dinner by myself, I light my fireplace, snuggle into my couch, and read. It’s become my new routine and I’m really enjoying it.
It reminds me of who I was in Winterberry which warms my heart.
But I’m still so unhappy.
And I don’t know how long it’s going to take before that feeling goes away.
I stayed off social media the first two days I was home, and the moment I signed back in, the notifications went wild. There were thousands of them. It took me hours to get through only half.
And most of them were discussing the same thing—Drew and his fiancée’s upcoming wedding.
At first, I couldn’t believe it. But after seeing hundreds of tags and mentions on various articles, I finally accepted that it was true. My ex-fiancé is soon walking down the aisle with a woman who isn’t me.
Boy, did I dodge a bullet.
I thought seeing the official news and hearing about it nonstop would break my heart all over again. But to be honest, it did nothing. I had come to grips with the end of that relationship while I was in Winterberry.
Leaving Winterberry hurt more than leaving Drew.
One of the first things I did after I slogged through the overwhelm of notifications was call Georgia. Hearing her voice was like a warm hug. I didn’t even realize how much I missed her.
“Pen!” she screeched. “When I saw your pic in the tabloids I was going to come to that town and save you. How miserable were you?”
I hesitated. “Actually, I loved it.”
“Wait, what?”
“It was the best place, filled with the nicest people and the best Christmas traditions. I miss it so much.”
“You can’t be serious. Penelope, you are not a small-town girl. You’re a famous actress who women all over the world wish they could be. Do you… do you want to go back there?”
“I do, Georgia.” I gulped. It felt weird to say it out loud. “I wish I never had to leave. I also, um, met someone.”
“Okay, I need to come over!” she yelled. I had to hold my phone away from my ear. “Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”
“I’m actually still trying to relax since being home,” I said. “How about we get dinner soon? My treat.” I faked a chipper voice.
“Are you sure? You’re kind of scaring me.”
“I’m sure. I’ll call you,” I said before hanging up.
