It does indeed take a few hours for the group of guys to move everything in.
“Bit of a fixer-upper?” the younger guy asks. He passes the clipboard over to me even though I haven’t unwrapped or inspected anything.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well…” He glances around at the piles of furniture in the living room. I might have slightly overbought for the amount of space I have. “Good luck.”
I sign my name at the bottom of the sheet and nod. “Thanks.”
It’s the first time anyone’s wished me luck in a very long time. As I watch the trucks pull away from the curb, I let out a sigh I hadn’t realized was pent up since last night. I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking about Rea, doubting myself, doubting if I’d done the right thing, but also wondering if maybe I had. It was an endless cycle.
Now? Now I have brand new couches, a nice bed set up, and a stranger’s well wishes. Somehow, that gives me the courage I need to stay. Also, I don’t want to walk around with the said jar of farts because that would definitely not be cool.
CHAPTER 17
Rea
I can’t remember a single time where Sadie—or tacos or wine—wasn’t able to make me feel better.
Sadie is vibrant—both in her personality and her looks. She currently has her hair dyed into something she calls ‘unicorn,’ which is a delightful combination of blue, pink, purple, and green. I think it could also pass for mermaid, space alien, or cotton candy and bubblegum ice cream mashup, but it looks amazing on her.
She made us tacos, and then we sat down on the couch together. We consumed a few glasses of wine before I was willing to say anything, but maybe that was more the wine than it was my brain doing the talking. When Sadie started asking questions, the words were just there. Wine is an excellent interrogation tool.
“So?” Sadie probes as she picks at a bit of piling on her bright red sweater, which she has paired with a neon purple suede skirt and blue leggings. She’s always dressed loud with a capital L. “What’s up with you and Kayden, for real?”
I don’t want to tell her about the taco incident last night. Or that this was actually the second night in a row where someone tried to use tacos to make everything better. Bribe me with tacos? Treat me to tacos? My taco? That seems like some dangerous ground to cover.
“I don’t know. Now?”
Sadie firmly shakes her head. “Back then. That’s what I want to know about. The past. As I said, if you seriously want him to leave, I think you need to give him an explanation that will give him closure, and then poof, he’ll disappear like a vampire at daylight.”
“Only you would say that,” I told her before taking another sip of wine. It probably wasn’t smart to drink four glasses on a night where I had to be at work bright and freaking early the next day. I could already feel my head pretty much levitating above my body. Thinking back, I can’t remember the last time I’d had any more than half a glass of wine.
“Only I would,” Sadie agrees with a grin. “But seriously. There has to be something. If you can’t tell me, then who can you tell?”
“No one. That’s the point. I was never supposed to tell anyone.” I curse my runaway tongue and wine-soaked brain as I set my glass on the coffee table. That’s definitely enough for one night. The stuff is like a truth-telling serum.
“Why? What weren’t you supposed to tell anyone?” Sadie is looking at me like something really bad happened to me, such as one of those horrible things one person does to another. It wasn’t like that, and now I feel obligated to erase it from her mind.
My tongue feels thick, and my mouth is too dry. Still, it’s been eight years, and I’ve never even told my own best friend. Shouldn’t I be able to now? After such a long time has passed? “I…it was…” I turn into a mess of head-shaking because old secrets never die. They stick around, ruining your life, ruining you. It’s as hard to get rid of them as it is trying to get rid of a bad stench from a suitcase. Ever tried washing one of those? Seriously, you can never get them clean.
Sadie sets her hand on my knee comfortingly. “What happened?” she asks, using the same tone she’d use to coax a frightened puppy or something.
I let out the mother of all sighs—a pent up, decade long kind of sigh. I can’t look at Sadie because she knows me as this creative, driven, and fearless person who takes chances and doesn’t give up, not someone who lets someone else decide their future for them.