Page 112 of The Killer Card

“Uh huh,” I looked over her shoulder at Clara. “What’s your excuse?”

“Ballet,” she reminds me with an eye roll.

Nelly closes the distance between us, taking my hands in hers. “Naomi,” I look down at her, fighting the urge to chew at my bottom lip. “When you’re ready to tell us what happened, we are here for you. We always have been, and we are so fucking proud of you for making it this far.”

“It’s only a year—”

“Don’t do that.” She squeezes my hands. “Don’t minimize how hard you’ve worked. Do you know how many stories Elias has told me about getting Graham clean? I know what you’re going through isn’t easy, both of us do.” She looks back at Clara who stands, hair still half done, coming over to us. Nelly looks back up at me. “And we are here. We will always be here, no matter what happens.”

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. “Goddamn it, Penelope Santos. You’re going to ruin my makeup with all your emotional crap.”

My best friend beams. “I’m still Penelope Hastings for a few more hours,” she reminds me.

I carefully take a tissue, wiping beneath my eyes. “And you will be forever if we don’t get your damn hair finished. Ivelisse!” I call into the hall. “Everyone get back in here! We need to finish turning this bitch into a bride!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nelly grabs my hand again. “One more question. Does Graham know? That you’re…?”

“Yes,” I nod once. “I told him the other night.”

“Does your sickness have anything to do with why you two never made things work? Did he know you were sick?”

My shoulders fall slightly and for a moment I’m struck with the awful shame and guilt of who my addiction made me. Of the way I treated the people I cared about for so many years. I cared about Graham, still care about him, but I was so buried in my own armor that I refused all attempts for him to reach out. I refused every helping hand, every kind gesture, every desire to be closer because it would have rocked the already unstable walls I hid behind.

Only through intense rounds of therapy did I realize I drank to numb the fear of failure. The fear of becoming like the woman who had adopted and then abandoned me just as quickly. I thought I was unlovable if even the woman who chose me wanted nothing to do with me. Nathan, of course, never saw it that way. He just accepted that she wasn’t who she claimed to be when she married our father and the act got too overwhelming. Meanwhile I went down the road of my mom abandoned me, something must be wrong with me. Which of course became I need to meet all of my father’s expectations, and even a single failure made me spiral until I could no longer stand to even exist in my own skin.

Alcohol made all of that go away.

Alcohol made me push Graham away because I knew the moment he noticed- even if I only realized I had a problem subconsciously- that he’d rip it all apart. So, I shoved and rejected and denied and now…

Now I can’t stop thinking about what he said last night. How vehemently he’d expressed his love for me without expecting anything in return. It was real for me. Every moment of it was real.

It was real for me too, I’d wanted to say, but he was gone before I managed to find the courage. And no matter how real it might have been, it doesn’t change that I’m still a fucking mess. I don’t want to make him feel responsible for me or worry about me. Graham still has his own demons, and while he’s much better at keeping them at bay than I am it feels wrong to add mine to the horde.

“Naomi?” Nelly squeezes my hand.

"No,” I swallow, admitting, “No, he… He always knew I had a problem. He offered to help. I just… I had to help myself first, you know?”

Nelly nods. “Yes. I do.” She leans in. “But, Naomi, please promise me- on my wedding day so you have to say yes- that you will not keep pushing people away because you think you need to protect them or because you think you’re a burden just because you’re sick—”

“Nelly—”

“Promise. Me.”

My blue eyes meet hers and for a brief moment I want to tell her that it’s impossible. I will never stop trying to protect her or Clara or even Graham. But she’s holding onto my hand so earnestly, her eyes welling with all the conviction of a woman who has learned exactly where she belongs in the world while I am being swallowed by the unknown.

That bubble of expectation mingling with the fear of failure blooms in my chest and the champagne sweating on the table looks really good right now. I resist the urge, just like I have every day for the last year.

You’re lucky to be alive, I tell myself. You’re lucky to be alive. You’re lucky to be alive.

“I promise…” I murmur softly.

Nelly pulls me into her arms, holding me until Ivelisse reminds her of the time. Only then does she return to the makeup chair to resume becoming the woman who will finally marry Elias Santos

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Naomi

I will not cry.