Page 79 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
The news blindsided me, knocking the air out of my lungs. “Oh.” I tried to keep my voice from faltering. It was the moment I was looking forward to the most about being back in Sterling—seeing Gabe again. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy your time there!”
“I’ll arrange a pick-up?—”
“No!” My high pitch made me wince. “It’s okay. I’ll take the airport bus, no problem.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, suddenly sounding sober.
The concern in his voice strengthened my resolve. “Totally. If I can travel across the world, I can handle an intercity bus ride. You deserve that vacation. Have fun, and take lots of pics. I want to see them when . . .” My tongue stalled because I didn’t know where we stood now. “When we both get back.”
He paused. “Alright. Have a safe trip, Luna.”
“Thanks! Enjoy your birthday.”
I didn’t wait for him to reply before I ended the call. It wasn’t until I lowered my phone that I realized my hand was shaking.
Not just my hand. It felt like my entire being shook. The muscles in my chin and cheeks quivered from holding my smile, and I finally let them rest. I looked down at the Sterling shirt I’d worn in honor of Gabe’s birthday. How stupid was I for assuming he missed me as much as I did him?
“Luna!”
I lifted the corners of my mouth back up before facing my sister, who walked toward me with Lonzo by her side.
“We’ve been looking for you,” Ate said while Lonzo frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to take a call, and it was noisy inside. I was just about to go back in.” Good. My voice sounded steady enough.
She stopped in front of me and stared. “Are you okay?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re teary.”
I was? Frowning, I raised my hand to one eye and found it was damp. Stupid tear ducts. “I’m just PMS-ing. It’s that time of the month.”
“Yeah, right. It’s that guy, isn’t it?” Lonzo demanded, his jaw clenched. “What did he do?”
“Nothing.” I swiped my cheeks.
“I told you I had a bad feeling about him. Give me his number.”
Ate elbowed Lonzo. “Stop it. You don’t even know what happened.” Putting her arm around my shoulders, she asked gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s just . . . I called Gabe and it didn’t go well.”
She stiffened. “What did he say?”
“He decided to stay in Miami longer, so he can’t pick me up. He was drunk too.”
“Asshole,” Lonzo bit out.
“Gabe doesn’t get drunk,” Ate murmured. “He doesn’t allow himself to.”
I sighed. “Well, he said he was.”
“That’s not like him. He said he won’t pick you up?” As she spoke the words, I realized how immature that made me sound.
So what if he wasn’t picking me up? I was twenty years old. I shouldn’t need someone to help me get around, and Idefinitelyshouldn’t be such a crybaby over it.
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s not like he’s required to and I can easily go to the apartment on my own. Plus it’s his birthday trip, so he should do whatever he wants.” The words were for my benefit too, reminding me that I didn’t get to be disappointed when he had no real obligation to me . . . and that I should grow the hell up.
