Page 68 of Daydream

“What are your travel plans for Thanksgiving? I know you and Will usually road-trip with Joy, but I was told he is flying alone.”

She practically chokes out the wordalone. “I was going to call you about it, but I’m working over Thanksgiving, so I won’t be coming home. I’m working over Christmas, as well. It’s because I’m the newest employee; I have to if I want to keep my job,” I lie. “And people have kids, so they already booked their vacation days. I know it’s disappointing, but it’s only one year.”

There’s a long stretch of silence. “You can’t begin to understand how disappointed this makes me. All of us. Your sisters will be distraught. And what about Will? This is really selfish of you, Halle.”

There’s a responsibility that comes with being the child that’s an extension of the parenting unit: never be the one to rock the boat. You’re the anchor that keeps everyone in place. There’s an unspoken requirement never to have problems you can’t resolve yourself quietly, and it’s a condition I’ve never failed to meet until now.

For as much as not telling my mom about Will was for self-preservation reasons, avoiding hearing everyone else’s thoughts and emotions about a situation that only impacts me was a factor, too. Don’t get me wrong; if I called my mom heartbroken, she’d be on the first flight out here to comfort me. My family loves me as much as I love them, but my needs have never felt like anyone’s top priority, and my breakup would be no exception.

I’d be rocking the boat, and how can everyone else remain steady if I’m not anchoring us down? How can Will and I break up when nobody wants us to?

It’s time to put the whole thing behind me, and that’s the thing Ifocus on when I finally summon the courage I’ve been missing for the past couple of months.

“We broke up, Mom. A mutual agreement that we weren’t happy. I’m sure Will won’t care what I’m doing.”

Silence.

“All couples go through rough patches. Look at me and your father, we took a six-month break when we were in college. It’s normal.”

I don’t need a mirror to tell me what I look like because I can feel the tightness in the muscles of my face. I am the living embodiment of the wordhuhright now. “Mom… you and Dad ended up getting divorced.”

“After two beautiful children and many happy years together, Halle. One divorce doesn’t erase that. I know you have high expectations because of the books you read, but real people have flaws. You included. I’m confident you and Will can work it out, honey. He’s your best friend.”

“I really need to go. It’s my friend’s birthday and I’m hosting a sleepover party at the hotel. It’s going to be really bad if deliveries arrive before I do,” I say, hearing the defeat in my voice.

“Okay, honey. Call me soon, I need you to explain how to do some silly science thing for Maisie’s homework.”

“Can’t you just google it?”

“Probably, but you know I prefer it when you explain things to me. Anyway, get to work and give my love to your friend.”

“Bye, Mom.”

The call disconnects and I let out a loud, soul-deep groan before carrying on with all the things I need to do.

THE PENTHOUSE SUITE ATTHEHuntington is bigger than my house.

It might be bigger than Mrs. Astor’s and my houses combined, in fact. Thankfully, Pete, my manager, helped me bring the various decorations up to the hotel while the hotel’s event manager coordinated other deliveries.

I’d love to pretend it’s because they want to help me, but it’s more likely that the event coordinator was given clear instructions from Aurora’s mom to do whatever I say, as well as her credit card to pay for all my requests. I think the coordinator was a little put out I was involved, but Aurora is very particular with what she likes, and her mom said I have to approve everything first.

Helping set up is my way of an apology for stepping on her toes.

With the extra hands, everything is set up early, which gives me time to read Gigi’s latest English essay, catch up on messages from people wanting to join the Enchanted book club, and rewrite the same two lines of the chapter I wrote last night. I had such big goals when I started that book club, and I feel like I blink once between sessions until it’s coming back around. I want to give it more attention, but I don’t know how to find the time.

I feel the same about writing, although recent events have caused inspiration to flow out of me. Sure, I rewrite every other word, but at least there are words on the page now. Even if, when I’m being totally honest, until the last week I definitely hadn’t been working on it as much as I should.

When the penthouse elevator doors open unexpectedly, someone a lot more interesting than a caterer steps out. “It’s very pink,” Henry says, looking across the living room of the suite. He’s not wrong. Between the balloons, food choices, and inflatable beds set up in front of the movie screen, it feels a little like Barbieland in here. “I feel like I just stepped into the middle of cotton candy.”

“That’s a funny way to saywow, Halle, you have such an eye for design,” I say playfully as he strides confidently across the room towardwhere I’m working. “Also, aren’t you supposed to be at the barber’s? Your hair is looking very not-recently-barbered.”

When he reaches me, he bends down to kiss my forehead gently while dropping his overnight bag next to the table I’m working at. “You smell good.”

I have the overwhelming urge to throw myself at Henry. I don’t because I don’t know if that’s cool, but I really want to. In one way, it feels strange to me that we haven’t talked about what, if anything, we are now, but I also kind of like not having another expectation to meet.

He’s been busy with an art project and hockey, and I’ve been organizing this event and getting on top of my other responsibilities, so it feels like we’ve hardly spent time together, but that was okay. It turns out I needed a little time alone to process my new feelings anyway. It’s what I like about Henry; he doesn’t expect me to act a certain way.

“Don’t distract me. Why aren’t you at your appointment?”

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