Page 95 of Wish You Would

Over the last couple weeks, Cari and Jill had stopped into the coffee shop a few more times. Between asking me how I was doing and crafting their love stories, they’d taught me more about the genre they adored so much. I loved their passion for love stories, and their enthusiasm for teaching me all about it.

However, they’d lost me at the guaranteed happy ending.

Just like this damn show had lost me.

Closing my laptop, I tossed it aside. I did not have it in me to watch these two idiots be happily in love for two more episodes. From the foot of my bed, Wilbur blinked his giant green eyes at me, annoyed that I’d disturbed his slumber.

“Sorry,” I said, stretching forward to scratch him behind his ear. “I’ll keep it down, your majesty.”

He purred his approval, then yawned and settled back in to finish his nap.

With a sigh, I looked around my bedroom, stomach fluttering with restlessness. I knew the cause. Of course I did. I’d been watching the days count down for weeks. Tonight was the night. The show at The Ledge. I knew Gigi was performing, that she’d officially joined Patti Mayonnaise.

Anya had let it slip the last time I saw her. I wasn’t convinced it was accidental, though she played it off that way. Which led to me scouring the band’s social media when I got home that night. Sure enough, there it was. An official announcement, complete with a handful of pictures. I’d stared at them a lot longer than I was willing to admit before I locked my phone and tossed it to the very edge of my bed.

The number of times I’d since navigated right back to that announcement, and those photos, since that night was embarrassing.

But that didn’t keep me from doing it now.

Ignoring the one-eyed glare of judgment from my cat, I opened the app and went to the band’s page. They’d posted a few hours ago, a group selfie taken by Halle, who was front and center and pretty as ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wished for the days I was crushing on her. As desperate as I was for something to change then, for something to happen, that desperation was nowhere near as torturous as what I was feeling now.

But, even as I thought it, my eyes found Gigi in the photo, squished between Ryan and Tommy, her hair pulled into two tiny pigtails and her grin ginormously cheesy. My lips tilted of their own accord, even as my heart kicked painfully against my ribs.

God, I missed her.

Tearing my eyes away from the photo, I read the caption: One last rehearsal before Summer Kick-off at The Ledge. Come watch us kill it tonight!

Despite the hurt, pride bloomed bright in my chest. I was happy for her. Proud. Glad she let herself go for this thing she wanted so badly. I…I wished I was there to witness it. For probably the ten thousandth time since Anya told me Gigi joined the band, I wondered if I made the right choice, ending things. Could I have convinced Gigi to do this while staying? Or did I force her hand by walking away? Did she truly believe it was one or the other, and removing myself from the equation made the choice easier?

It didn’t matter. I was here, she was there. She was doing the thing she loved and I…well, I was happy for her. Happy for her and sad for me. But I’d get over it.

I’d get over her.

Tossing my phone aside, I reached for my laptop and opened it. Back to work.

Back to work, back to work, back to—

Goddammit.

I closed my laptop and leaned my head against my headboard, groaning. It was useless. I could not focus. Not when my brain had latched so tightly onto the fact that, in a matter of hours, Gigi would be taking stage. How was she feeling, I wondered. Was she nervous? Excited? Happy?

Was she thinking of me?

Before I could think better of it, I grabbed my phone and opened the text thread with Gigi. It’d been inactive since two hours before the breakup, when I told Gigi I’d stop by the bar on my way home. She’d sent me a heart emoji. The amount of time I’d spent since then staring at that stupid red heart was…well, it was pathetic. It was almost like I thought if I stared enough, if I wished hard enough, I could undo it all. Go back and change my own mind, take back my words.

I could stay.

But real life didn’t work that way, and now that tiny red heart glowed up at me, mocking me.

I ignored it and typed out a quick message:

Break a leg tonight

No frills. No emojis. Just the words. I stared at them until they blurred and swam on the screen, my thumb hovering over the Send button. “Send it,” I whispered. “Just send it.” Closing my eyes, I blew out a deep breath. Then…I sent.

I watched as the message went from lost-in-the-ether to delivered. Then, I watched some more, waiting, hoping, for the little dancing dots telling me she was replying.

Nothing.

---