Page 84 of Head Over Heels

I have to rest my forehead briefly in my hands.

“Chase, you okay?”

“No. I’m not okay. I’m definitelynotokay.” Pretty sure, in fact, that I feel less okay as time passes.

“What happened? How the fuck—” He seems to suddenly realize that we have a genuine humanitarian crisis on our hands. “How do you get from ‘just friends’ to…this?”

His gesture takes in the mostly empty bottle, the mostly empty glass, my trashed living room, and me.

He looks pretty freaked out, too, as if something like this could happen to him if he let his guard down.

I tell him my insight about our first date. How even then I liked her too much. How I put the right amount of distance between us. I made a list of all the reasons we could never get along. I made everything between us about what we couldn’t agree on. The movies. Our snacks, our drinks. I loved that we couldn’t agree on a movie because it put all that space between us on the couch. It meant there was never anything shared between us that could pull us together.

And then…

“I asked her to come help me with Katie. Why do you think I did that?”

Brooks looks, if possible, even more freaked out.

“I don’t know, dude. Because you’re an idiot?”

“Thanks, man. That helps.”

“You know what I think you really need? Another drink.”

He’s right. I pour another bourbon, and let the rhetorical question drop.

Chapter 47

Liv

I cry most of the way to Boise, and then I dry my eyes, fix my makeup, and check myself into a Comfort Inn.

I’ve always liked hotels. You decide when to arrive and when to leave, and by definition, they are places you can’t stay. Tonight that fact feels incredibly comforting.

I leave the hotel long enough to get dinner. I decide on The Cheesecake Factory, but can’t help thinking that Chase would have tried to talk me into Ruth’s Chris Steak House or The Olive Garden. Then we would have made a joke about our incompatibility.

Tears fill my eyes again.

I shouldn’t be crying. I’m doing the right thing. I’m taking a job in my field that uses my talents. I’m trying a new city, a place I’ve never lived before. I’m on the road, on my own, an independent woman who isn’t afraid to mold her life into something that’s right for her.

I’m taking care of myself, learning from old mistakes, making sure I don’t set myself up for heartbreak.

You have to stop crying,I tell myself, and I do a pretty good job of it during dinner. I read the new Sophie Kinsella book and people-watch over the top of my Kindle and eatwaaaaytoo many avocado egg rolls. I leave a big tip and a thank-you note for the waitress, and I depart the restaurant in an excellent mood.

It’s a good night. I could spend many happy nights like this.

The only thing that would make it better…

But I don’tneedChase to watch a movie and drink wine and eat chocolate. I have my iPad, the hotel minibar, and a stash of Ghirardelli to meet all my solo movie-watching needs.

So that’s what I do. I queue upLa La Land,which I’ve been meaning to watch, and I drink wine from a plastic cup and eat most of a bar of 72 percent dark chocolate.

La La Landmakes me cry. I know it’s one of those love/hate movies—people are crazy about it or it annoys the shit out of them—but it turns out I’m in the love camp.

I feel pleased with myself, afterward.Look. I had a wonderful evening. I was sad, but I still had a good time.

(I managed not to think about how much Chase would have hatedLa La Land,even.)

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