Page 22 of Beauty and the Cop
When he told me that people give him challenge coins to say thanks, I wanted to give him one, too. Not just to say thanks for what he does, but to say thanks for being who he is. He's made my life so much better by being part of it. Finding the one from his brother's team was perfect.
Giving it to him today, when I couldn't be with my mom, felt…not really like it'd bandage the wound, but like it'd make me feel a tiny bit better to make him smile today of all days.
Instead, he made me cry.
I got his apology text this morning, but I never responded. I wasn't sure what to say because I'm not sure if he truly meant it or if he just felt guilty for being a jerk when I did something nice for him.
I don't want a pity apology.
He's so damn confusing! Two nights ago, he almost kissed me. This morning, he made me cry.
What does he even want from me?
Was this morning his way of telling me that he regrets almost kissing me? It's a fucked-up way of communicating that he isn't into me like that, that's for sure.
I drop my bag inside the door and head straight for the kitchen, grabbing a frosting container and a spoon. I kick my shoes off before curling up on the couch and turning on the lamp. I don't bother with the overhead lights.
I'm not bothering with real food, either.
I can punish myself for my bad decisions on my jog tomorrow. But I intend to enjoy them tonight first.
I'm three bites in when my phone dings with an incoming text, followed by a photo of a gorgeous flower arrangement.
Alice: Since you couldn't be here today, I took flowers to the cemetery for you and visited with your dad.
Tears spring to my eyes, a soft sob choking me.
I set the frosting container aside, quickly dialing her number.
"Thank you," I cry into the phone.
"You don't have to thank me," she says quietly. "I love you. It's what you do for people you love."
That only makes me cry harder. I didn't even cry this hard when I talked to my mom earlier. But Alice always seems to know when I need her. It's like she has this sixth sense and just…shows up in the best ways. She's never getting rid of me. I don'tcare how far apart we are physically. She'll always be my ride-or-die.
"It was a shitty shitastic day," I explain through hiccups.
"I can tell," she says, chuckling. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I grab the container again, taking another big bite. "I want to sit here and be sad and not think about Noah."
"Uh-oh. What did Mr. Mafia do?"
"Would you stop calling him that?" I groan.
"Never." Her evil laugh crackles down the line. "That's his name forever now. What did he do? Because I can totally catch a flight and shit in his gas tank."
"You know that isn't physically possible, right?"
"They make funnels and stool softener for a reason, Elsie."
I choke on a laugh and then glance at my frosting and groan, setting it aside. "Thanks for ruining my dinner."
"Were you eating frosting?"
"No." I grimace. "Maybe."
She laughs again. "What did Noah do?"
