Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“Blaire! Did you land safe?” Honey asked.

“Hey. Yeah, I just got in.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?”

“I’m sure. Piper is already waiting out front. I just saw all your messages. What did I miss?”

I’d asked Honey to hold down the fort for the business, which shouldn’t have been difficult since I’d also requested that we go entirely radio silent. No more posts. No more comments. No more emails. I wanted everything to come to a screeching halt. The only things we needed to do was pay bills and keep the lights on. Metaphorically speaking. Since I didn’t have my own office.

“Just sending you follow-ups from the business email. There have been a lot of media requests.”

“No,” I said flatly.

“I figured as much but wanted to run it by you. Maybe this would be better in person. I could come over, and we could discuss—”

“No,” I repeated.

As nice as it was to have Honey, she was maybe too happy to have me home. She seemed to have actually been concerned that I’d never leave LA.

“Okay,” Honey said quietly. “I hope you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” I lied. “I want you to hold all of this together. I don’t want to think about business for a few days. Can you do that?”

“Oh yeah, sure. No problem. I misunderstood what you said. I thought you wanted me to still inform you of everything coming in. I didn’t know you wanted me to go quiet, too.”

I closed my eyes on a sigh. “That’s not what I meant. I just need to deal with what happened in LA. Why don’t we plan to meet up later in the week? Once I start feeling better.”

“Definitely. But if you need anything in the meantime, do not hesitate to ask. Dinner, a movie, a shoulder to cry on. I’m your girl.”

“I know, Honey. Thank you.” I stood up as we reached the gate. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up and grabbed my boho bag before disembarking. My bag was the first one off at baggage claim, and Piper’s blue Jeep waited outside of the exit.

She hopped down and pulled me into a hug. “Aww, Blaire, I’m so glad you’re home.”

I started crying on the spot and held my best friend as tight as I could. “Piper, I hate this.”

“I know.” She brushed my hair back. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so.” I swiped at my eyes. “And now, I’m worried someone is going to take a picture of me crying. I can’t shake the feeling of being followed.”

“Well, let’s get you out of here then. You’ll be better at home.”

I nodded. Though I couldn’t help but doubt it. That being followed feeling felt inevitable. It had been stronger in LA, where the paparazzi could be anywhere, but knowing that Campbell’s fans were stalking me online sure didn’t help anything. I felt helpless, and it triggered fight-or-flight in me.

Piper grabbed my bag as I got into the passenger seat.

“Have you heard from Campbell?” she asked as we pulled out.

I shook my head. “No. I told him I didn’t want to talk to him and I needed space.”

Piper sighed. “Yeah. That makes sense. I was rooting for y’all.”

I crossed my arms and stared out the window. “Me too.”

We arrived back at the house twenty minutes later. Eve greeted us at the door. But I just shot her a half-smile before retreating to my room. I crashed into the comforter, and tears hit me fresh all over again. Piper was worried. She wanted answers to what had gone down in LA, but I wasn’t ready for the conversation. I wasn’t ready for anything but crying and sleeping.

Which was what I did on and off for the next couple days. Nothing from Campbell. Only intermittent messages from Honey. A few from English. But even she went silent a few days into my heartbreak.

It felt like the first time all over again. Campbell was in LA. I was here. I had made that happen. I was the heartbroken one. But I couldn’t see how it could have happened any other way. I couldn’t suppress the pain from eight years ago. I couldn’t pretend that none of it had happened.

And worse, all this time, I’d thought he’d abandoned me in the middle of my miscarriage, but he had no memory that I’d even called him. Should I have called him again? I hadn’t been rational at that time. I was eighteen years old and had just lost everything. There wasn’t a moment where it felt logical to call Campbell after he never returned my call. I was alone. That was how it had been.

Again, I was alone. And I missed him.

Everything hurt. And I ached for him.

I hated every bit of it.

“Knock, knock,” a voice called from the hallway before someone pushed the door open.