Junk Mail(43)

My throat is constricting, and it’s all I can do to hold back the tears. I won’t do this. I won’t let him see me cry.

Composing myself, I continue. “And yeah. There’s been a misunderstanding,” I manage to say through my sniffles. “Because you seem to think you can disappear from my life and come back when it’s convenient for you, when I’m a bottle of champagne in and you think you can get me to sleep with you again. That, Josh, is a massive misunderstanding.”

The second I feel a tear spill down my cheek, I grab my purse and storm out the door, booking it toward the nearest subway station before the waterworks start. I feel bad for leaving without paying our tab, but there’s no looking back now. Sabrina and Libby will understand.

I have to get away from here, away from him.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Peyton



“Can we come in?” a familiar voice calls from the other side of my bedroom door.

After my emergency evacuation from Speakeasy, I should have known that Libby and Sabrina would follow me home. What I don’t know is if I’m ready to have company yet.

Instead of replying to their knocks, I scoop up another bite of double-chocolate-fudge ice cream and pop the spoon into my mouth, doing my best not to drip any on the comforter. I don’t need a stain on my sheets reminding me of Josh’s affinity for ice cream. As it is, I can’t even enjoy this ice cream without thinking about how it’s his favorite food.

Screw him for making me think of him when I’m trying to mope. Can’t a girl eat her feelings without being reminded of the man she’s trying to get over?

“Peyton. You’re gonna have to pee eventually,” Sabrina calls from outside the door. “Either you can let us in now, or we’ll stand here and wait until you have to open this door.”

I groan, dropping my spoon into my half-empty pint. She’s right, but I’m not happy about it. Setting the ice cream on my nightstand, I pull myself out of bed and unlock the door to let them in.

“Oh, honey, are you okay?” Sabrina’s face scrunches up as she takes in the sight of me in all my breakup glory. The mascara trailing down my cheeks, the messy bun on top of my head, and wearing my coziest pajamas.

The second I got home from the bar, I grabbed the pint of ice cream I’ve stored in the freezer for a rainy day and took the stairs two at a time, yelling out to Gram that no, I don’t want to talk about it. Gram has been crazy obsessed with the idea of Josh and me together. How am I supposed to tell her that he’s just another asshole who wanted to get in my pants?

“Girl, you don’t really want to be alone right now, do you?” Libby asks, flopping down across my bed. “You don’t need to do that to yourself.”

“She’s right.” Sabrina shakes the plastic grocery bag in her hand. “What you need is more ice cream. Which we have graciously provided.”

“And makeup wipes!” Libby pulls a package of them from the plastic bag and tosses them my way. Sabrina gives her a weird look, but Libby just shrugs. “What? I figured she might need one. Sue me for being prepared.”

I drag a makeup wipe across my cheeks, the clean coolness of it feeling like a fresh start. Which is something I could really use right now.

Once I’m cleaned up, I toss the wipe and settle back onto the bed with my girls. As much as I wanted to wallow in sadness by myself, I’m happy I gave in and let them in. Having them here makes me feel less empty.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” I say, exhaling slowly.

“Here, finish this and tell us what’s on your mind.” Sabrina hands me what’s left of my pint of ice cream, then leans back against the pillows, ready to hear whatever I have to say.

The only problem is that I don’t know where to start. My head is in a million places at once, and I don’t know how to make sense of any of it.

“I just . . . I thought he was different, you know? And then when we finally sleep together, he totally ghosts on me? And then shows up without notice? I mean, who does that?”

“Men,” Libby and Sabrina say in unison, which makes them giggle.

Meanwhile, I’m near the end of this pint and hoping there’s an explanation at the bottom. If not, I’ll be forced to move on to the next pint.

“Maybe he has a good explanation, who knows?” Libby says as she takes the lid off another pint of double-chocolate fudge and passes it my way.

“Yeah, or maybe he’s just exactly like every other guy I’ve ever dated.” As I plunge my spoon into the softened chocolatey goodness, I can’t help but remember that these aren’t the kind of pints I thought I’d be throwing back tonight. We should be celebrating my business success, not moping in my bedroom. Fuck Josh for taking this night away from me.

“You won’t know unless you talk to him,” Libby says. “If he’s ballsy enough to walk up to you at a bar, I think he’ll probably have the guts to actually answer your calls this time.”

“Well, yeah.” I shrug, licking chocolate off my lower lip. “He’s already called me three times tonight. So I’m guessing he’s probably willing to talk things out.”

Their jaws practically hit the comforter at that update.

“He’s been calling you?” Sabrina’s screech is so high-pitched, I’m surprised our neighbors’ dogs don’t start barking. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Did you pick up or what?”