Page 5 of The Escape Plan

“Today is goingto be a good day,” I tell my steam-obscured reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I tuck the towel tighter around my chest, then lean forward and run a hand over the fogged-up mirror, my fingertips trailing through the condensation as I peer into my own blue eyes.

“You hear me, Keeley?” I squint at myself in a vain attempt to make my apple-cheeked, round face look stern. “Good days only from now on.”

I nod at myself in agreement, then begin to drag a brush through my long black tangles, reveling in the fact that I feel human again after my shower.

Forget Andrew.

Forget about him needing “space.”

Todayisa good day.

Iwillit to be.

Three weeks ago, Andrew—my boyfriend of five years—completely blindsided me when he announced out of nowhere that we should “go on a break.”

Three days ago, I managed to be completely unprepared and caught off guardagainwhen he told me he thought that break should be permanent.

So really not a break at all, but a breakup.

It was clear to me from the moment he said it that he had already made up his mind, and I wasn’t about to grovel if he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I watched my mom plead with my dad to take her back during their divorce more than a few times, and it was heartbreaking to watch her get rejected because Dad had “moved on.”

Even more heartbreaking was what happened after the divorce was finalized.

So, when Andrew suddenly “moved on” from me, I was hurt and confused… but I wasn’t going to follow in my mom’s footsteps. So, I gave myself these past three days to eat entire pints of Ben & Jerry’s while watchingThe Notebookon repeat.

Wine may have also been involved.

Three days was more than enough, because honestly, by the time I woke up this morning, I was kind of sick of my own moping. And given that this is the week my air conditioning decided to completely give up in the midst of scorching summer heat, I’m also just generally sick from rotting in my furnace-hot apartment while sustaining myself on sugar, dairy, and fermented grapes.

Nevermind the fact thatIwas beginning to smell fermented, too.

The glorious everything-shower I’ve just stepped out of marks the beginning of a new era: it’s time to stop crying and get my head back in the game.

I haven’t heard his footsteps upstairs over the last few days, so I’m going to go ahead and assume that he’s packed up and gone camping or something. That he’s taken some time, alone, to reflect and process our breakup.

I’ve done the same. And now, I have no choice but to continue as normal. Which means getting dressed in actual clothes and heading to the town library to get some writing done… right after Craig comes to fix my air conditioning.

As if on cue, my phone vibrates on the vanity.

I drop my brush and press my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Keeley! This is the fifth time I’ve called!” My second cousin’s shouty voice is so loud and booming, it echoes through the bathroom.

“Sorry, sorry, I was in the shower,” I tell him. “Just need to get dressed. I’ll be down in five minutes to let you in.”

Craig clicks his tongue impatiently. “Can I just come up?”

“The front door will be locked,” I reply, patiently. My cousin is notoriously grumpy at the best of times—he’s known around Serendipity Springs as “The Scowling Handyman.” But I don’t want him to leave without taking a look at my AC unit. The apartment building I live in, The Serendipity, has air conditioning throughout, but for some reason, my apartment hasn’t been cooling off lately.

The building manager, Steve, insists there’s nothing wrong with my AC—or anyone else’s—and while he’s point-blank wrong about this, he’s also stubborn as a mule that he’s right.

So I called in scowly backup in the form of Craig because I could really do without another sweltering late July night of non-sleep.

“I just saw some guy walk in without using a key,” Craig says, and I let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh, perfect. Yes, come on up.”

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