Page 95 of Mad Love

I smile. “Give ‘em hell, Shaw.”

“You know I will, Chapman.” He grins and goes out the door.

I start a load of laundry and sit down and read Sasha’s journal. I’m up to her twenty-first birthday now and I’ve been curious to see what she’d say about it. We got a hotel with two of her friends in Denver and went to a club where we drank too much and danced until we closed the place down. She ended up going home with a guy despite her friends and me trying to tell her that was a bad idea. She came home the next afternoon, giddy about her night out, and I was so mad at her about all of it—the way she bailed on us, going home with a stranger, and not letting me know if she was okay—I didn’t speak to her for at least a day after that.

It’s official! I’m twenty-one! Last night was amazing. Sadie splurged on a hotel for us. Jessie and Claire were there too, and we went to this club that was so fun. No more fake IDs, baby! Free drinks all night. Honestly, I think Sade’s been saving for my birthday for at least a year. She’s been cheap all year, never wanting to go out, but she made up for it last night. Lol

I met this guy. Dillon. So hot. He danced with me for a long time, and when he said he lived in Hilltop and asked me to go home with him, I didn’t hesitate. I’ve always wanted to see what the houses are like there, and his place was NICE. The sex was sub-par, but I’d be willing to overlook it to live in that house. We had sex twice and slept really late. I thought we’dhang out a little—I didn’t even have time to explore his whole house! But the ass called an Uber for me without even feeding me lunch. I was pissed.

And now Sadie’s pissed at me. I honestly don’t know why she’s so mad at me. It’s not like I bailed on everyone the whole night. We danced until two this morning. And it’s not like she’d gotten us a room in the Four Seasons or something. The room was nice, but notthatnice. And last but not least, it was my fucking birthday! I thought the whole point of a birthday was to do what I wanted, and that’s what I did.

Ugh. Anyway, I’m gonna let her pout it out. I love her more than anyone on earth, but she’s so self-righteous sometimes.

The page blurs together after I’ve stopped reading. The hurt stings like it’s happening for the first time. I thought I’d worked through my anger about that weekend with her a long time ago, but it blooms fresh. My heart thuds in my chest and I fling the journal across the couch. Why would I be angrier now than I was when it happened? Makes no sense.

Through this grieving process, I thought I’d managed to bypass the anger stage, but it smacks me across the face now. I shake out my clenched hands when I hear Caleb on the monitor and walk to his bedroom, the whole time trying to shut off the noise in my brain.

Why did I put up with her selfishness?

Talk about the ultimate gaslighting. She was so good at it and I always just put up with it.

But what I keep coming back to is: Was she right?Am I self-righteous?

I hug Caleb and change his diaper, trying to focus on him. We go downstairs and I pull out leftovers and heat them up. I feed him little bites at a time while I pick at the food too and then fixhis bottle. He clangs it on the high chair and then slugs it back, gulping it fast. He’s breathless when he pulls it away.

“Slow down there, little guy.”

Low on diapers and needing some fresh air, we run to the store, but while we’re out, I can’t wait to get back to the house.

Weston’s texted a few times and then it’s quiet when he’s in the meeting they have the night before a game. He FaceTimed us after we’d eaten and then again after I put Caleb to bed. I’m leaning against the headboard when I answer and he frowns when he sees me.

“Why aren’t you in our bed?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably end up back in there, but I was just missing you too much in that room. It feels weird when you’re not here. The last time you were gone, I was so exhausted, I crashed late, but today’s been a chill day and I’m awake, so I just went in there and—” I make a face.

“You don’t want to watch a movie or anything?”

“The house feels extra big. And I don’t want to be all the way down there when Caleb’s up here.”

He nods. We’ve been watching movies in the living room more often for that very reason. He looks sad and I feel bad that I said all of this.

“I wish you’d asked your parents to stay over,” he says.

He mentioned that this morning and I blew it off because I thought I’d be okay.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all.”

“I don’t want you to get used to it there without me,” he says. He makes a face. “Ignore me. That’s super selfish of me to say. What can we do to make it easier when I’m not there? Is it too late for your mom to come over?”

“Yeah, I think so. And I’ll have to get used to it at some point. I think the problem with tonight was that I ran to the store toget diapers and came back after it was dark, and then everything felt weird.” I laugh. “I didn’t know I was afraid of the dark, but apparently I am a little bit. I’ll be running my errands during the day from now on.”

“Don’t forget you can order anything you need, and one of the guards will bring it to the house, or Amy would be happy to pick things up and bring them over too. She offers to do it all the time.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to bother them.”

“Chapman, they’re happy to do it, I swear.”

I still can’t believe I’m living in a house this luxurious, so remembering that Weston has a small staff on salary that could help me is not something I ever consider. It feels wrong to ask them for anything. I’m not Weston. It’s not my house. They don’t work for me.

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