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Wistfully, I run my hand along the kitchen counter. “Me either,” I whisper. “It feels… surreal.” That’s not the word I want to use, but since nothing else comes to mind, it’s the one I’m going with. “But I’m ready to leave.”
The words are laden with double meaning; I’m ready to leave and go to Jamie’s, where he’s already offered I can stay until I find my own place, but I’m also ready to leave this apartment in the past and look forward.
“I’m so proud of you,” Luce gushes, pulling me into a hug that I eagerly return. “Being a mom-to-be has made you a real badass, Gail.”
Despite the guilt churning in my stomach for not having told her why we’re here, I force a smile. “Thanks, buttercup.”
While Luce and I do a final walk-through, Jamie stacks all the boxes by the wall, making sure they’re ready for the movers I still need to hire.
“Gail,” Luce whispers when we’re in the now empty bedroom. “You have to tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? And why do you look like you’re about to burst into tears at any moment?”
Inhaling sharply, I meet her gaze. “I left them.” I barely recognize my voice with how hollow it is. I’m barely holding myself together as I give her the cliff notes version of what they said last night, of how they’ve manipulated me.
“Fucking bastards!” she whisper-yells, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
“I can’t do this right now, Luce,” I croak. “I don’t have time to fall apart.”
Nodding, she turns away from me, probably to get herself under control. I take the opportunity to join my brother in the living room, but when I try to help with the boxes, he shouts at me, telling me to leave it for him to do.
As soon as everything is done, the three of us walk down together.
“Hey, can I tell Sy?” Luce calls over her shoulder as she walks over to her car.
I don’t need her to elaborate on what she means. When Mickey and Soren return home and I’m not there, they’re going to call me, regardless of the letter. And when I don’t answer, they’re going to reach out to either Luce or Sawyer, maybe both of them.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “There’s no point in keeping it a secret.”
Luce is the first one to drive away, and I wave until she disappears in the afternoon traffic. Then Jamie gets into his car, and while he pulls away, I get into mine, following him all the way to his apartment where he waits for me in the parking area.
“Let’s get you settled in,” he grunts, taking my suitcases and bags from me, insisting he’ll carry them even though there’s an elevator in his building.
Jamie’s apartment is neat, much neater than you’d imagine from an eternal bachelor. The living room has a worn leather couch facing a mounted TV, with a coffee table that’s clutter-free except for a few coasters. The compact kitchen features granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a well-used coffee maker.
Down the hall, the bathroom is all white tile and essentials. The spare bedroom that’s going to be my temporary home is practically bare, just a bed with a navy comforter, a wooden bedside table, and a closed closet. It’s perfect for now.
After carrying my things to the spare room, he leaves me alone to shower and unpack. I make the mistake of leaving my phone on the bedside table, which makes it impossible not to hear every vibration as calls and texts come in non-stop. When I see Mickey’s and Soren’s numbers flash across the screen for the tenth time, I’ve had it. I need to do something, occupy myself so I don’t end up caving and answering.
“Jamie!” I shout once I’m dressed in clean clothes.
He quickly appears in the doorway. “Yeah?” His hair is still damp, and his skin flushed from his own shower.
I give him a pitiful look. “We should do something tonight. I need to… err, not sit still.”
Although I know my brother will do almost anything for me, I’m fully prepared for him to shut me down, tell me he just wants to kick back and chill on his night off. But he doesn’t. “Before you called me, I had plans with Mom and Dad,” he says. “We could go there for dinner?”
“That’s perfect!” I exclaim. “Let’s go, we can call them from the car.”
Proving just how perfect he is, Jamie doesn’t comment when I leave my phone behind and practically shove him out the door in my haste to get away from the constant messages and calls that call to me, begging to be read and answered.
Jamie insists on driving to our parents’, which makes no sense to me. Both he and my dad like having a few too many beers with family dinner, and since I’m pregnant, it’s not like I’ll be drinking, anyway. However, when he volunteers to be the one to call Mom, I don’t fight him on wanting to drive. Instead, I get into his car, making myself comfortable.
I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves as Jamie and I stand at the front door of our childhood home, the scent of roasting chicken slipping through the cracks. This is the first time I’m going to my parents’ without my wig or a hat, and I feel naked without either.
“They’re going to hate it,” I whine, pointing at my black and white hair.
Jamie bursts out laughing. “You’re about to tell them you’re knocked up without having a boyfriend, and you worry about your hair?” I elbow him in the stomach and ring the doorbell.
“There you are,” Mom coos as she opens the door. Her smile is wide, practically taking up her entire face. Then her eyes land on my hair, and said smile morphs into a stilted mask of concern. “Goodness, Gail, what have you done to your hair?”
