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“Of course.”
“You’ll have to come for dinner! I’ll make your favorite.”
“Name the date. I’ll be there.”
At the door, he kisses my cheeks before stepping back. “See you soon, Ivy,” he says, ever so politely.
I want to scream. Punch him. Most of all, I want to rewind time.
I’m not sure if I’d take back what happened earlier today, or if I’d turn right back to six days ago, the day I left.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ivy
I learn from Bella that Less and the other guys leave the very same day our parents arrive; only Sebastian remains behind, with Nic.
I guess he got what he wanted from me—and what I also needed. Closure. Now we can all move on.
If I think things through, I can’t regret what happened. We cleared the air about the past. A lot of the things that kept me bitter, angry, and sad were explained. We communicated—too late, but it will help in the long run. Maybe someday I’ll be able to have an actual relationship with someone, open up to something beyond the physical. Stop questioning if I’m enough. The issue with Less wasn’t about me; it was about us not matching back then. Plus, what sixteen- and eighteen-year-old actually handle relationships well? It’s not surprising we fucked it up.
I have a lovely holiday with my family—at least on the surface. I have to make myself smile, and force my thoughts to stay in the present, rather than dwelling on the couple of strange days when I was snowed in with the royals. But when I tell Mom and Dad I’d come again for the winter break in a few months, I actually mean it.
I know I won’t avoid coming back home, feeling like the entire world might open up if I return to my actual country.
No one is waiting in the wings, trying to hurt me here. It was all in my head—and in my memory.
The worst of my bullies aren’t even in Anderia anymore. When I ask, Bella tells me Sophia left for the US after a scandal a few years ago. I don’t know the details, but I gloat a little, glad that karma bit her in the ass.
The day I get back to work, I open my social media, and find completely unexpected messages that make me beam.
Hawk Abercrombie: You better friend me back or my feelings are going to be seriously hurt.
Hux: Let me know if you want tickets next time my team is on your side of the pond.
Basil Osborn: I showed a picture of you to my twins, and I think my boy is a little in love. He says you look like Snow White.
Sebastian: Yo.
Caden: I’ll take you up on a rematch any time.
I reply to each one, wondering who won the game this year, and trying my best to ignore the fact that everyone has messaged meexcept him.
It’s for the best.
I sound like a broken record to myself. But if it is for the best, why doesn’t it feel like it?
Thankfully, I have enough work to distract myself. My author’s done with his next round of edits, and because of the good work I’ve been doing on that project, my boss entrusted a second debut novel I selected to me. I get to do what I’ve done so successfully for the last few years: immerse myself in work and fictional worlds to ignore the fact that I’m fucking miserable.
It works for the day, but I dread getting home to my tiny apartment. When I got back yesterday, I cleaned compulsively to avoid sitting and crying like a heartbroken idiot.
Never mind that’s exactly how I feel. Even worse than when I left. That had been my decision to stop a toxic relationship. Now I feel like I’ve left behind something else entirely.
My terrible roommate isn’t back from her family’s yet, so I’ll be alone. No one to pretend to. I don’t feel like calling any friends, but maybe I should go to a restaurant, just to not be left alone with my thoughts.
“I think if you manage to nail this one, when the next round of promotions comes around, I can talk everyone into starting you properly as a junior editor, rather than my assistant,” my boss tells me as we leave the building together.
I manage a smile. “Really? I mean, I know I haven’t done this for long…”
