The tears come, dripping off my chin. With each drop comes a new flurry of despair and I feel myself starting to fall off a cliff. My phone is on the table in front of me and I pick it up and call Macie.
It rings five times and I’m ready to hit “end call” when it picks up.
“Hello?” The voice is sleepy, rough, and very much not Macie.
“Will?”
“There better not be another guy answering this phone,” he says, a little more awake now.
I wipe the snot off my face. “I’m sorry,” my voice cracks and I mentally berate myself for behaving this way.
“Hey, who is this?” Sheets rustle in the background. “Danielle?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to Macie.”
“Are you okay? I mean, I’m up looking for her now, but you’re gonna have to tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” I sniffle. “No, I’m not Will. My heart is so broken.”
I don’t know why I’m telling him of all people this, a man I only talk to when he answers her phone or if he butts into a conversation we have while they’re together. Still, he’s the only one around to listen.
“I’m sorry. He’s an idiot, fact as fuck.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t have to know him. I know you.”
“No, you don’t,” I laugh through the tears as I hear him telling Macie I’m on the phone.
“Macie knows you and loves you. Therefore, you’re family. Whether you’re right or wrong, he’s an idiot. That’s how this works over here.”
“Thanks, Will.”
“You need to get away, you’re welcome here. Our door is open. Well, proverbially. I’d stay away from the bedroom one unless you—”
“Give me the phone, you fucker!” Macie says. I hear the phone go between them. I can’t help but laugh. They always make me laugh. Their relationship is not perfect by any means—Macie wants to kill him half the time. But she loves him. Respects him. And he wants to be with her over anything else. I cry harder.
“You okay?” she asks as I hear a door shut in the background.
“No,” I sob. “Why did I do this to myself?”
“Oh my God. What happened?”
I go through everything with her, listening to her gasp when I tell her where he was traded.
“To your father? He’s going to play for San Diego?”
“Yes,” I breathe, heading into the kitchen or a cold towel. “I can’t go with him.”
“No, you can’t.”
Wrapping a few ice cubes in a dish cloth, I return to the sofa and put it on my eyes. “Macie, I knew better than any of this. I knew I couldn’t resist him and I knew I’d be in this exact position sooner or later.”
“I know, I know. But you followed your heart.”