One Last Time(11)

My chest tightens as I clutch my throat. I thought we were doing a good job hiding things. Scott and I would never say anything in front of the kids, and I worked hard to hide my pain. Seems I sucked at that, too.

“I love you, Finn.” I touch his cheek, but he’s already out.

Now to cry myself to sleep another night in my lonely bed.



Erica called me this morning to inform me that “the Arc has moored in Tampa.” I’m assuming that is her not-so-subtle way of saying Noah is here, but who the hell knows with that girl.

She’s absolutely certifiably crazy.

For real.

She’s unglued. Erica believes the government is performing an experiment on humans, and we’re in some sort of Hunger Games reality series. I’m not sure what district she’s in, but I’m hoping we aren’t in the same one. We’ll all die.

She also lives at home with her parents, who still pay her bills while she works to find her cause in life. What does that even mean? Her cause? Shouldn’t it be purpose?

I wish I were making this shit up.

I text Heather, praying this stupid plan of mine will work.

Me: Hey! You busy?





* * *



Heather: I’m working now, but I get off in an hour. What’s up?





She’s never going to buy this, but my bullshit ability is at zero with my life being in the crapper.

Me: I was thinking we could all go out tonight . . . I could really use the distraction. I’m dropping the kids off at Scott’s in a few.





* * *



Heather: Oh! Of course! Eli’s friend from New York is in town, but you’re welcome to come over if you want! We can drink by the pool and have a slumber party. Especially after being around Asshole.





* * *



Me: Yeah, Asshole will definitely hamper my mood. I could use some Heather time.





I hate myself. I’m the worst friend ever.

Guilt gnaws at me for misleading my friend at all.

I pace the living room with my phone in my hand. I won’t be this person. Heather doesn’t deserve me being this way.

Me: Okay, I lied. I mean, not totally, but my intentions weren’t the best. I have to put a blog post up on Monday or I’m going to get fired by my twit of a boss. She told me to write about Noah. Don’t hate me! You can tell me to go to hell now. Don’t worry, I hate myself enough for the both of us.





My phone rings, and it goes clattering to the floor. Why does she always call instead of texting? I’m quick to pick it back up and hit the green button.

“Hello?” I say with trepidation.

“You’re such an idiot! A complete and total idiot! If you needed to meet Noah, I would’ve brought him gift-wrapped to you. Dork.” Heather laughs, and I hear her partner, Brody, in the background. “All you had to do was ask.”

She doesn’t get the hatred I have for doing this. “I don’t want to ask you! I’m supposed to be a journalist or whatever the hell they call this shit. It’s my job to get the dirt on Eli’s freaking friends.”

Heather sighs. “Eli knows this, and he got you the job because he knows you’re a good person, Kris.”

I don’t feel like a good person. I feel like a user.

“I owe that man. You should give him sex as a thank you.” I smile.

“Oh, I will. Lots and lots of hot, sweaty sex. The kind that people write about.”

Brody grumbles loud enough for me to hear it and then makes a gagging sound. “Good. But please don’t tell me about it. I’m going to be sex-less for a while. It’s already been more than eleven months. Last thing I want to hear about is your fantastic sex with a guy who was on the cover of Men’s Health last month. Could he have at least one flaw?”

“Tell me about it. I keep waiting for him to grow love handles. When he does, I’m going to poke at them daily.”

I laugh as I imagine her teasing Eli. It really is not fair. However, he works hard. I’ve never seen anyone be so regimented about their diet. While we gorge ourselves on nachos with guacamole and queso, Eli eats hardboiled eggs and boiled chicken.

I’ll take the love handles if it means I don’t have to give up guacamole.

“Thank you for not being mad at me.” I chew on my thumbnail.

Heather releases a deep sigh. “You’re going to have to get over this, Kristin. Come over tonight at eight, and we’ll hang out, okay?”

“Okay. Shit! What do I wear?”

The only famous people I’ve ever been around are the guys from Four Blocks Down. The first time we met them all, I almost died. Now, Shaun, PJ, Eli, and Randy have been sort of inducted into our little group, so it isn’t so bad.

Still, my pulse was going so crazy when Shaun kissed my hand that I almost fainted.

Meeting someone for a work reason . . . I’m not sure what the protocol is. Do I dress up?

“Noah is really sweet, Kris. We’re going to drink by the pool, so just be you.”

“I’m—”

The radio blares, cutting us off. “Shots fired. I have to go. Love you.” Heather hangs up before I can respond.