Page 95 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Twenty-Five

Eliza stroked Mabel’s head, the sound ofGilmore Girlsplaying on low volume in the background and her phone in her hand. She scrolled through her Instagram for the first time in months. She’d thought the distraction would help, would take her mind off what had happened with Beckham, but the endless well-lit photos of people’s lives blurred together.

She found herself clicking on her own profile. She dragged her thumb across her screen, her posts sliding by. Seeing her smiling face, her quippy wellness suggestions, her upbeat stories…it was like scrolling a stranger’s feed. Who was that person? Was sheeverthat person?

People’s comments on her posts were full of thank-you’s and compliments.

Yasss, girl!

So pretty!

#LoveThis

This is a great tip! #SelfcareFTW

These strangers thought she had it together, thought the Instagram therapist had it all figured out. She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. She was a damn fraud. She knew nothing. Absolutely goddamned nothing about how to do life. This whole feed was all a show.

Hell, maybe her whole freaking life was a show. Had she ever done anything without a little part of her thinking,What would they think of me now?That chip on her shoulder that had been chiseled deep during her adolescence was still there, unable to be satisfied. She always needed to prove herself just a little bit more. She wanted her old classmates and anyone else who’d doubted her in her life to open up her Facebook or Twitter or Instagram and be like,Oh wow, Eliza Catalano really became someone. Look how wrong we were. Look how successful and happy she is. Great job. Big following. Hot husband. Smart kids.

Orbestselling book…

“God,” she said, groaning aloud. “Insecure, much?”

Mabel glanced up, her doggy eyebrows twitching. She must’ve decided Eliza looked distressed enough because she laid a big, wet lick along Eliza’s cheek and nose.

Eliza smiled despite herself and kissed Mabel on her head. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Mabel laid her head down on Eliza’s lap, and Eliza went over her argument with Beckham for the hundredth time. Part of her was still so angry with him. The things he’d said to her had ripped pieces of flesh from her, the accusations barbed and painful. But was that because some of them were true?

She was still reeling from the knowledge that he had been married before. He’d said she’d never asked him why he felt how he felt, which was true, but he also hadn’t volunteered it. He could’ve opened up to her. That miss wasn’t solely on her.

But it had made her realize that she still didn’t know much about his past. She knew he’d grown up in a strict household of some sort, his parents restricting movies. She knew he’d had a friend who’d had a leaked sex video. She knew he was estranged from his parents for some reason. There was more story there, but she hadn’t dug.

Whyhadn’t she dug?

That was normally her nature—to be nosy. To delve into people’s stories. That was her actual job. Yet with Beckham, she’d settled for living in the moment. Why?

Because it felt like a fairy tale.

The answer came to her as if from outside herself.

Being with Beckham had held a magical quality from the start, and she hadn’t wanted to mar it with reality. She’d been so tired of overanalyzing every date, being let down by every guy, that just being with Beckham had felt like a break. She hadn’t had to impress him or put on some image. She hadn’t had to evaluate every aspect of his personality to see if he was long-term material. Their start as friends had let him sneak into the back door of her subconscious, not triggering her “must be perfect Eliza” instinct or the “must be the perfect guy” expectation.

It’d felt like taking a huge, much-needed breath of cool, clean air.

She’d felt free with him. Light.

He was this young, gorgeous, interesting guy who’d laid no expectations on her. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions because then she’d have to see past that, to face his flaws. Because of course he’d have them. He was a human, after all.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh Gaaawd.

Maybe shehadfallen in love withthe idea of him.

Without thinking, she woke her phone screen and hit a button, her heartbeat racing up to the speed of a panic attack.

Andi answered on the second ring. “Hey, you, what’s up?”

“I am a completely horrible person,” she declared. “A selfish, self-centered asshole.”

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