Page 78 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
I signaled for another drink.
“At least things worked out somehow. You found success. Yas got the family she wanted. I’m home. Everyone is better off.”
Better off didn’t mean good. My mother and father might have gotten what they each wanted, but my world had splintered after their divorce. I didn’t belong in her family or his home, and neither of my parents fought for me to remain theirs.
My father was right about one point though: I was successful. That had to count for something, right?
luna
At five minutesto one p.m., I excused myself and wandered outside the mall to a quiet area of the square. I called as soon as the hour struck. The phone rang once, twice, and my smile wavered as it kept ringing. When I was about to hang up, Gabe answered, but he rejected my request for a video call.
“Luna.”
The sound of his voice sent a thrill through my body. Insane how much of a hold he had on me. “Happy birthday! Hey, turn your cam on.”
“I’m not presentable right now.” His words came slower than usual. Thick.
“What, were you sleeping or something?” It took a second for the possibilities to sink in. “Oh, are you with someone? I’m so sorry?—”
“No—”
“I just wanted to greet you in person. Well, notin personin person but not over text.” My tongue stumbled over the words as I imagined him with that faceless woman again. Had he met someone in Miami? I pictured him kissing her and taking her to his room because, let’s face it, just because he wasn’t in a relationship didn’t mean he was celibate. “I’ll go?—”
“Luna,” he snapped. “Will you let me speak?”
I took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
His harsh tone contrasted with his words, and I blinked rapidly against the stinging in my eyes. How did a simple birthday greeting turn into this?
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice came softer. “I’m drunk. Or close to it.”
“Did something happen?” Gabe didn’t strike me as the type to get wasted. He valued being in control too much.
Then again, us being friends now didn’t mean I knew everything about him.
“I was—what do you kids call it these days, pre-partying?”
Hurt sliced through me at him referring to me as a kid in that mocking tone. “Pregaming,” I said flatly. “That’s what wekidscall it.”
I felt stupid for thinking we were past this. When I thought of Gabe, I didn’t think of his age or the years between us. He was just Gabe, the person I wished could be more than my friend. Meanwhile, he apparently saw me as a child.
Still.
“Right. I was pregaming for my birthday.” He let out a sound that might’ve been an attempt at a whoop.
“Okay. Well. I just wanted to greet you.”
“Wait.”
I held my breath, hoping he’d salvage this conversation somehow.
“I forgot to tell you I’m extending my stay until Sunday. I won’t be able to pick you up on Friday.”
