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“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, feeling like the biggest disappointment in the world. “You did all of this for me, and I’m fucking it up.”
His voice is reassuring as he stands. “Don’t worry about it, Kennedy. It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t,” I say, horrified at the tears burning behind my eyes.
I wish I could be like her. If she got text messages like this from me while she was out, she would just ignore them and keep having a good time.
My phone lights up and I look down, tears blurring my vision. I blink them away just to read another enraged text from my mother who can’t believe I was away from my phone that long and accuses me of deliberately ignoring her.
I’m totally crushed as Milo strips off his robe and puts his clothes back on.
Fighting tears as I pull on my pretty new dress and the heels he bought me.
Milo tells me he’ll just give me a ride home, that he’ll pick me up in the morning to get my car.
I’m so afraid he’ll never want to hang out with me again that I don’t even talk to him on the ride home, I just hold back tears and text my emotional mother with resentment burning in my heart.
I’m never happy to see our apartment building, but I’ve never been asunhappy to see it as I am tonight.
Distraught, I look over at Milo as he parks in front of the entrance to let me out. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
Easy for him to say. He’s amazing and any woman in the world would—andwill—happily lap up what I’m squandering. He won’t always be so patient with me. He’ll get fed up with all my bullshit and date someone his own age who won’t have stupid drama pulling her away from the amazing dates he goes out of his way to plan for her.
I’m so fucking sad, I open the door and flee without so much as an apologetic hug, barely even saying goodbye to him.
I’m on a self-sabotage spiral. I can feel it all falling apart, so I start pulling at threads.
What is wrong with me?
Tears sneak down my cheeks as I make my way to the apartment door. I start to grab my keys, but then remember Mom is home so the door probably isn’t locked.
I turn the doorknob and stench fills the air. I smell BO, so I think Larry must be here, and it smells like a brewery, so I was clearly right about them drinking.
“Mom?” I enter the living room and find her lying on the couch, a bottle in her hand hanging down toward the ground, her shirt riding up her stomach.
I panic for a second because she isn’t moving, but I only take a couple of hurried steps toward her before she starts to sit up.
My relief is short-lived. I feel immensely guilty for it, but for a split second… I thought about what life would look like if I were free of her.
Shoving that down, I ask, “Are you all right?”
She’s scowling at me. It doesn’t occur to me the way I’m dressed until I see her sneering, her gaze raking up and down my body. “What the hell are you dressed like that for?”
I glance down at myself. I don’t have an explanation, so I don’t answer. “Did Larry leave?”
I no more than ask and I hear a door open down the hall. I look left and see Larry emerging from the bathroom, tugging his jeans up the rest of the way and zipping his fly.
Ew, ew, ew.
There is literally no way he washed his hands. I can still hear the toilet running and he couldn’t even be bothered to pull up his pants before he left the room.
I’m grimacing, but his expression is much grosser as he looks me up and down in the pretty dress Milo bought me. “Well, look at you all fancy.”
Revulsion moves down my spine but I look away from him and back to Mom.
Unfortunately, seeing her boyfriend checking me out seems to have brought back bad memories because now she’s looking at me like we’re mortal enemies again.
