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GWEN
A week ago, I’d been moving on with my life. A week ago, I’d been sane.
This is a good opportunity. And also, you want to fuck him again.
I really could have done without that bit from my subconscious. I could live in denial right?
Like a good little former fiancée and current employee, I had gone to bed early to give myself some rest before the big flight, but the more I tried to relax and actually get some sleep, the more I tossed and turned.
I glared at the clock, 1:00 AM. I had to be up in three hours if I wanted to make that flight. But with every minute that ticked by, all I did was coil myself up a little tighter, like an over-wound jack-in-the-box.
If I went with him tomorrow, what would happen?
Is that a real question or…
Wow. My subconscious was really on a tear tonight. I finally gave up and just called my sister. We were long overdue for an update. And I knew she was worried after Lance called her.
She answered right away. “Gwen? Holy hell. This was the most epic game of phone tag ever. Are you okay? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me.”
“I'm not avoiding you, Morgan. Stop being melodramatic.”
“You're lying. But I'll let you lie because I am just so happy to hear your voice. How are you? Are you okay? You had an allergic reaction. You’re always so careful.”
“Yeah, it was weird, but yeah. I’m fine now honestly. It was just a cherry on top of the world’s craziest week, so no wonder I left my EpiPen at the office. Rookie mistake.”
“What the hell is going on? What else happened?”
It took me ten minutes to fill her in on every single excruciating detail.
“Fuck, Gwen.”
“I know. And instead of sleeping, I’m freaking out. I don't know, Morgan," I admitted, letting out an exhausted sigh. "I'm tired and on edge."
She was quiet for a long moment on the other end of the line. The kind of quiet that screamed she was gathering her thoughts before she spoke.
"Okay, that's big," she said finally, a softness in her voice that only my sister could muster when comforting me from hundreds of miles away. "But Gwen, you're strong. If anyone can handle this it's you. The question is, what do you want?"
That was a good question. "God, I don’t know?" I countered, my frustration starting to bleed through. "I was supposed to be his partner, his equal. And he just... He just..."
"Bailed?" Morgan supplied.
"Broke me," I corrected her quietly. “On the other hand, I am just so…angry.”
Another pause on her end. This one heavier than the last.
"Gwen," she started slowly, "we can't control what other people do, but we can control our reactions to it. You're not broken; you're hurting, and that's okay. You need to give yourself permission to hurt, to be angry."
"But what if I don't want to hurt?"
"What if you need to?"
We were both quiet, the silence as loud as the unasked questions hanging between us.
"What are you going to do now?" Morgan asked finally.
I remembered the flight in four hours that would take me back to Atticus and our shared situation. “Funny how fast happiness can evaporate," I murmured, rubbing my temples. "I'm supposed to go with him to the Winston Isles in a few hours."
"Why?" Her voice was sharp, filled with an anger that mirrored my own.
