Page 115 of Something Forever

I don’t know how long I sit slumped over the toilet. Thankfully, I don’t throw up again. Instead, I hug my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. Emotions pass through me in waves, crashing against me relentlessly. Eventually, I drop my knees and lean against the wall, steadying my breath.

Only one emotion remains.

Anger.

“Get out,” I tell Caroline.

“But, peanut?—”

“I need to be alone. Please,” I reply, almost begging.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she says, and my heart lurches at yet another reminder of Liam.

Once my mom slips out of the bathroom, I reach for my phone and dial Liam’s number. It goes straight to voicemail again, and this time, I inhale a deep breath before I speak, words tumbling out of me.

“Fuck you, Liam. Fuck you. I thought you saw me. I thought this was real. You told me this was real. You told me you loved me?—”

I break off, a sob gathering in my throat. I force myself to be steady, to say what I have to say.

“—and then you leave divorce papers for me without a word? Without even giving me the chance to say it back, you’re done? I was going to say it back. Thank God I didn’t, because if this is your version of love, I don’t want it. You’re a coward, and I never want to see you again.”

I inhale a shaky breath, my heart cleaving in two. Something irreparable is breaking inside of me. Something I can never get back.

Somehow, I manage to hang up the phone and push myself off the bathroom floor. I meet my own gaze in the mirror, noting my pale skin, dead eyes, and tear-stained face.

It’s just you and me now, my reflection says.

Just like it always has been, I call back.

Once I drag myself out of the bathroom, I crawl into bed and gulp down a glass of water. I find a note from my mom on the kitchen counter, right next to the divorce papers.

I’ll give you space, but we need to talk soon.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, I can’t bring myself to think about Caroline and her money problems. I feel steady enough to call Abbi, who I’m hoping will make me feel better, even though the thought of our last phone call, of her hopeful, encouraging attitude, sends a stab of pain through me.

She picks up after one ring. “Babe! How did it go? Did you talk to him? Did you tell him?”

My mouth dries up. I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

“Whitney?”

I take a deep breath, blinking rapidly. “He’s gone. It’s over.”

“What do you mean?”

“He left divorce papers for me. With his signature on them.”

Silence greets me on the other line. It’s rare for Abbi to be shocked into silence, but I think this qualifies as a jaw-dropping moment.

“No,” she says. “No way.”

“Yep,” I reply.

“Do you want me to come home? I’ll book a flight right now.”

“No.” I shake my head, wiping at my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Whit,” she says, sympathy in her voice. “It’s going to be okay.”

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