Page 81 of Last First Kiss
Alejandra exhales, her shoulders sagging, and her eyes filling with tears. She nods, even though I can tell it’s hard for her.
“If that’s what you need,” she says softly, but I can hear the ache behind it.
“I think it is,” I whisper, wishing my heart didn’t hurt so much.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ALEJANDRA
The past few days have been tough.
Clara and I have barely spoken to each other since she asked for some time to process everything. When I’d said I’d give her that, I’d meant it. But now ... I can hardly think straight.
It’s not that we’re ignoring each other; it’s that the conversations we have right now feel forced and clunky to the point where neither of us starts one. I hate this wall between us. And still, underneath all the fear and guilt, there’s this ache—deep and constant—for her. For us. For the version of the future I didn’t even know I needed until her.
Clara told me to go to New York and made me promise I wouldn’t stay here because of her, but I still haven’t replied to any of the job offers, and I think it’s because I’m holding out for Isabella. If my photography does well in her gallery, maybe I can finally focus on it as my art and passion, not just a career where I take pictures for catalogs or ads, which is what’s waiting for me in New York.
But even if that works out how I want it to, I’m starting to wonder if it’s already too late for Clara and me.
“Are you okay?” Diana asks for the third time in the last hour.
I offer a choppy nod, doing my best to smile.
I’m at her house with some of my family, loading up a van with everything we’ll need to take to the hotel. Tomorrow, my sister is getting married at the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle, so the majority of my family is staying out there so they don’t have to drive back home after the reception, which means all of our cars are being used to move things. So far, Diana has packed her wedding dress, shoes, reception dress, and honeymoon bag into my car.
There’s not much more she can fit in there, but she won’t let me leave. She says it’s because she needs my help organizing things, but I think she wants to keep an eye on me, that she doesn’t quite trust that I won’t fall apart the second I’m out of sight. I must look as unsteady as I feel.
Clara is already at the hotel. She was able to request an earlier check-in date, so she’s been there since yesterday, and as much as I’m trying not to be upset at that, it’s hard not to.
And I miss her. I miss her to the point that I physically ache.
Our communication has never been this bad before, and it is the scariest thing I’ve endured with Clara. I’m worried we won’t see a way out of this.
What if this is the beginning of the end, and we’re both too afraid to say it out loud?
My phone buzzes, and for a split second, my heart leaps—maybe it’s Clara. But when I check the screen, it’s a message from Isabella.
Isabella 2:26 p.m.:
hey, Lily talked to Clara how are you holding up?
God, I can only imagine what was said in that conversation that’s got Isabella asking how I’m doing.
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
Hey i’m fine. how’s Clara?
Isabella 2:26 p.m.:
good, said she’s at the hotel, Lily and i are thinking of going down sooner to make sure she’s good.
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
That’s probably best.
Isabella 2:27 p.m.:
unless you want one of us to stay with you? you’re not driving in until tomorrow right?
