Laurelin Paige - Forever with You

I couldn’t help myself. I had to know. “Did he say anything else?”

“He said lots of things. I decided you weren’t interested in hearing any of it.”

“Good thinking. I wasn’t.” I leaned back on my elbows. “But I am now. What did he say?”

“That he wanted to give you your space, but that he’s anxious to talk to you when—if—you want to. That he’ll do anything you want him to for the club, even if that includes doing nothing. That you’re welcome to come back to the penthouse—he’s staying at his other place.”

“The loft.” The offer of the penthouse was a waste of his breath. I had no desire to be anywhere I’d been with him. Except maybe the club. I still hadn’t decided about that yet.

“Yeah, the loft.” She lowered her eyes. “He also insisted that I tell you he loves you.”

“I don’t want to hear that.” Even knowing it was a lie, it still had impact. My stomach tightened and my eyes watered. And some stupid little spot in my chest flickered with a spark of…I don’t know…hope, maybe? It surprised me. Disgusted me. After everything, how could there be any part of me that still wanted his love to be true?

Liesl grinned. “That’s what I told him.” Her mouth straightened to a tight line. “He said it didn’t make it any less true.”

That night when I cried myself to sleep, it wasn’t the betrayal that kept the tears coming—it was the loneliness. My lips burned for Hudson’s mouth, my breasts ached for his touch, my entire body pulsed with isolation. And instead of wishing I’d never met the man, that I’d never heard his name, I wished I’d never found out the truth. Ignorance, it turned out, truly could be bliss.

* * *

“I told you it sucks,” Gwen said when I called in sick on Wednesday.

I didn’t follow. “What sucks?” I should have had Liesl call in for me again. This talking to people thing was harder than I’d comprehended.

Gwen delivered her response in sing-song voice. “Love, darling. L-o-v-e, love. Worst thing ever.”

Guess my claim of the flu wasn’t fooling her. “Yeah. It really does.”

* * *

Thursday I almost seemed like a real person again. A broken, distraught person, but that was better than the sobbing lump that I’d been the days before. Now I could feed myself and I even managed to drink something other than alcohol.

Liesl had seemed to think I was ready to be pushed further. “You need a distraction. A release. Like maybe you should pet the pussy. I could loan you my vibrator while I’m at work tonight.”

I cringed. “Um, no thanks.”

“Then we could drive to Atlantic City this weekend and check out David’s new place. You know he’d fuck your brains out if you asked.”

“First of all, David doesn’t fuck anyone’s brains out.” Though I’d never slept with him, I’d been with him enough in a sexual sense to know he was a total puppy dog.

“Secondly, I don’t ever want to have sex with anyone ever again.” Hudson had ruined sex for me—there would never be anyone better, no one more serving and demanding and fulfilling. It had been the place where things had been real for us—even now, with all the lies, I believed that. Anyone who tried to come in after would be a sorry comparison.

And there was a third thing—Saturday was the day of Mira’s Grand Reopening. I couldn’t go, of course. That would be ridiculous to even consider. But telling her was going to be hard. Since it was already Thursday, I probably couldn’t put it off any longer.

With a deep breath, I held my hand out to Liesl. “Speaking of the weekend—can I borrow your phone? I need to call Mira.”

She handed me her cell. I looked up Mirabelle’s Boutique and pressed the button to dial. This would be a true test of my strength. Mira had been so pro-Alayna-and-Hudson that she was likely as devastated as I was. Well, not quite that devastated, but nearly. And knowing her and her love-conquers-all attitude, she’d probably try to convince me we could work things out.

Maybe I didn’t want to call her after all.

“Mirabelle’s. This is Mira.” Too late to hang up now.

“Hey, Mira.”

“Laynie!” she exclaimed with her usual bubbly, happy tone. “I was going to call you and check in. Great minds. I have your dress altered and ready for you—do you want to pick it up before Saturday or change here that day? Or I could have it sent to you by courier.”

Dammit. Hudson hadn’t told her the news of our breakup. What the fuck?

I definitely didn’t want to be the one to tell her that. But now I kind of had to.

“I…Mira…” I was having trouble finding the words. I decided to start somewhere else. “I can’t do your event. I’m sorry. I called to cancel.” Then, after a swallow, “Hudson and I…we broke up.” Why did it hurt so much more to say it out loud?

I swallowed again, bracing myself for Mira’s reaction.

“I know,” she said softly. Then she immediately perked up again. “Which is why I banned him from the store on Saturday. I don’t give a shit if he makes it to my event. But you—Laynie, I have to have you here. Please say you’ll still come. It would mean so much to me.”

My mouth went dry. I was not emotionally equipped to handle shock. Or anyone being nice to me. “Mira, no,” I floundered. “That’s not right. You can’t keep your own brother from your special day.”

“Yes, I can,” she insisted. “He doesn’t care about fashion. He does care about me. And you.”

Ah, there was the Mira I’d been expecting.

I clamped my eyes shut to ward off a new set of tears. “Please, don’t say that. I don’t want to hear about his supposed emotions.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. I wasn’t trying to meddle. I was simply trying to tell you that he already offered to not come before I banned him. He said he wanted me and you to be happy and so he was bowing out. Yes, I’d rather have you both there. Of course I would. But if it comes to you or him, I definitely choose you. You’re one of my models, and more importantly, you’re my friend. You’re like a sister, Laynie.”

I warred with my options. When I called, there’d been no way in hell that I planned to go to Mira’s event. I couldn’t be there with him. It would be impossible to be a model under those circumstances.

But her speech…

We had become friends, and I had hoped that we’d one day be sisters. She’d done a lot for me and Hudson, but truly, she’d also done a lot for just me. And maybe doing this for her would help me with closure.

“All right. I’ll do it.” Did I really fucking just say that? “But you better swear to god that he will not be there. And this better not be a trick to get us together.”

“I swear he will not be there. Swear on my baby.” She paused. “Though that tricking you to get you together idea...”

“Mira—”

“I’m just kidding.” Her smile was evident in her voice. “Yay! Thank you, Laynie.”

“You’re welcome.” Sort of. “But don’t expect a cheery model.”

“You can do the serious/somber thing. I’m totes okay with that.” She lowered her voice. “And for the record, I don’t know what that fucker did to mess things up with the two of you, but he’s a miserable wreck about it. I mean, completely and utterly broken up.”

For half a second, I actually felt joy. Was it because I was happy the asshole was as miserable as I was or because I thought his misery said something about how he felt for me?

It would kill me if I kept wondering about the validity of any of his emotions. I had to stop thinking about it. “Mira, if you’re going to keep telling me about him, I’m going to cancel.”

“No! Don’t do that.” She sounded panicked. “Just had to get that out there. I’m done now.”

“Okay, but no more.” Please, no more. Another deep breath. “I’ll change there on Saturday.”

She squealed. “I’m so excited! See you then.”

I almost smiled as I hung up.

“Well, look at that,” Liesl said as I handed her phone back. “You have some color in your cheeks.”

“It’s not possible.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. God, mourning was exhausting. And boring as hell. I had to find a way to move on. Mira’s event was a good first step. But I needed to take some other steps.

Like figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Just thinking the thought seemed overwhelming. A tear rolled down my cheek. Seriously? Wasn’t I about fucking cried out yet?

But it had to be done. I grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed at my eye. “I, um, I want to go to work.”

Liesl cleared her throat. “Are you sure?” My tears probably had her unconvinced.

“Not tonight. But tomorrow, yeah. I need to see if I can be there. I don’t think I can make a good decision about my future at the club without trying a shift out.”

Through all my struggles with obsessive love addiction, The Sky Launch had been my sanity. It had been the only thing to ground me when I’d been free falling. Now, as I was falling again, couldn’t it be the place to save me again?

If not, I had to find out what could. Because already, I was getting that restless feeling in the pit of my stomach—that anxious tickle that marked me as an addict no matter how healthy I was. It was another sign that it was time to start figuring out my future.

When Liesl went into work that night, I forced myself to find something to do other than sleep and cry. Something other than remember. I turned on Spotify and found something to download on my Kindle app since Liesl had no books in her apartment.

But I couldn’t get into the novel. And nothing else on the Internet or on TV was enough to occupy my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking, and as I moved through the grieving process, my thoughts turned obsessive, as they always did when I was hurting. Some of them weren’t even clearly formed but were instead only rough impulses. The urge to see him, for example. Not to talk to him, but to look at him from a distance. The urge to smell him again. The urge to hear his voice.

The yearning drove me mad.

And it pissed me off.

Because I was stronger than this. I was stronger than Hudson Pierce and Celia Werner. I would not let them pull me down to the person that I once was.

She thought she could destroy me?

Well, fuck that. I’d survived heartache before. I could survive it again.

Adrenaline surged through me, and I suddenly felt invincible. Or capable at least—invincible was going a bit too far. But “Roar” by Katy Perry came on my playlist, and I did jump around the room singing at the top of my lungs.

It felt good. Invigorating. Energizing.

Then “So Easy” by Phillip Phillips came on, and immediately my strength disappeared. “You make it so easy…” he sang, and all I heard was Hudson saying it to me.

And it was all a lie.

I dissolved into a mess of snot and ugly tears. Well, another night of crying wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was always tomorrow to be strong.

The next day, I didn’t feel stronger, but I did feel resolved.

Planning the future still seemed overwhelming, but I could handle today. Baby steps. It’s what I’d learned in therapy. It was something I knew how to do.

On paper and in pencil, I broke down the hours. It helped to look at it written down so it didn’t feel bigger than it was. I started at the bottom of the page since I’d already decided to go to the club.

8 p.m. to 3 a.m. work, I wrote.

Before that I’d go to a group meeting. I looked online and found one at six that evening. Perfect. I filled it in above my work shift.

At the top of the page I wrote in: breakfast, shower, dress.

Then: sneak over to the penthouse to get some clothes.

Even writing the last thing had been hard. To say it sounded daunting was an understatement. The Bowery had been the place where Hudson and I had really begun sharing our life. It would be filled with painful reminders.

But going through the memories, dealing with them—that was part of healing.

Getting through the first line of items was easier than I’d expected. Breakfast actually stayed down, and I managed to find a pair of drawstring shorts in Liesl’s drawer that didn’t fall off my waist.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Liesl offered around a bite of a bagel.

“No. I need to do this by myself.” I threw my still wet hair into a ponytail. “I’ll need you for the next time—when I get all my stuff. But this time, I’m just going to run in and pack a bag to get me through a few days. It’ll feel good to finally wear panties again.”