Page 65 of Promise Not To Fall

“I left early,” I tell her, trying to swallow my words and figure out what her next words will be.

Her tear-soaked cheeks blush as she stares at me. “I didn’t think they were open, but there was this guy there cleaning up broken glass, and we got to talking. I asked him where you were, and he said he didn’t know.”

“And then what?” I can’t breathe.

“I had a drink, or ten, and then left with Nash.” Her words speed up, and then she bursts out, “And I told Wesley because I was pissed, and now I’m in the hall crying. Who acts like this? Who gets revenge by fucking someone else? What did I do?” She sobs into her hands.

Rubbing her back, I try to console her. “Rylee… hon.” Suddenly, I’m at a complete loss for words. Usually I know exactly what to say and am willingly tell others what they should do. Now I have nothing for her. Not a goddamn thing. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her chin shakes. “I just want to go home. I hate it here.”

Part of me understands she knows what she did was wrong. But the fact that Wesley had thrown it all away on the first night they were there was what hurts her the most.

“I don’t understand why he brought me here just to cheat on me? This has been the worst vacation of my life, and that includes the time you got us arrested in Mexico.”

She had to go there. The time she’s referring to was when we were in Cabo and a cop pulled us over for making an illegal lane change. I argued with him, and we wound up in jail. Took five days before we could get out. But whatever. I still stand by my choice, and the Mexican government is shady as shit. “Don’t remind me.”

Every day we make decisions, and they go one of two ways. If we listen to our hearts, what happens then? Good or bad, when you’re making them, they all seem good. Then, after time passes and you can see whether or not that decision was right, you’ll know exactly when and where you made your mistake. I’m the type of person who weighs heavily on playing it safe. Picking and choosing exactly when I’m going to make a decision that could potentially go badly. Island Boy, well, he was a big chance for me. Sometimes our heart and gut tell us two different things. Sometimes it’s easier to listen to your heart and ignore the warnings your gut may give you. But then, there’s this one chance, this one moment where you know that you could possibly be letting the most amazing part of your life go.

That’s about when my tears let loose, and Rylee and I are both crying.

“Oh, God, we’ve completely lost it,” Rylee says, laughing, wrapping her arms around me.

“I’m fine,” I try to reassure her, but I don’t do a very good job. I’m not fine.

“Bullshit. We’re going to drink. Get your shit.”

Rylee’s idea for tonight is drinking. I don’t want to drink anymore. At all. I want her to think of a way to make this pain go away.

Have you ever been out with friends, and you’re the sober one and everything they do is annoying you because they’re drunk and you’re not? That’s me tonight. So I have no choice but to start drinking or else I’m going to ditch my best friend. We find a bar inside the hotel and sit down at the bar, much like I did my first night here. Everything is so very different now, though.

“What’ll it be?” the man at the bar asks, winking and giving me a look.

He thinks he’s smooth. He’s not. I miss Island Boy. I miss him so much it actually makes me sick to think about, like a knife to my heart anytime his dirty smirk pops in my head.

This guy is tall, very tan, lighter hair than Jake’s. He has an Australian accent that I don’t find attractive. I bet if Jake had one, I would have enjoyed it, but his accent does nothing for me.

“Are you having a good time?” he asks me.

I turn toward him and raise my drink, but it’s my eyes that give away my sadness. “Do I look like I’m having a good time?”

“No.”

“Then I’mnothaving a good time.”

An hour later, I’m having a good time and we leave that bar. We go to the casino for the first time, and I nearly lose all my money. I can see why people go broke in casinos. It’s bullshit.

Wesley’s in there, spots Rylee and immediately rushes over with bloodshot eyes and nearing tears. He knows he fucked up and the best thing in his life hates him. “What can I do?”

Rylee punches him. Actually fucking punches him in the face. She got his ear, and I’m sure she was aiming for his mouth, but he turned his head. “You can go to hell!”

Rylee stares at me, holding her sore hand close to her chest, sniffling and wiping away snot with the back of her hand. “The wedding isoff.” And we immediately go back to her room.

I follow her inside as she tosses Wesley’s suitcase in the hallway and slams the door, pacing the floor by the window. Her hands and body shake. “I don’t even know what to do. I can’t believe him,” she wails, her shaking taking over, marring her voice. “What a fucking asshole! What can I do?” she mocks. “As if he could actually make this right. He brought me here! He fucking brought me here!”

I’ve been where Rylee is a time or two. I know this pain, that void that fills with an uncontrollable need to right what went wrong. After so many times of this occurring, you get jaded to the situation and just say fuck it all to hell. Rylee, living in her happy bubble, hasn’t experienced this before… it’s going to take time for her to ride out this storm of emotion.

On Tuesday I spend the day with Rylee and never hear a word from Jake. Not that I expected that I would, but still, I thought maybe the determined side of him would have won out and he would have come back. But he doesn’t.

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