Page 59 of P.S. I Miss You

Technically I’m starving, but I don’t want to seem dramatic. He felt the need to spend a solid twenty minutes last night reminding me of how dramatic and theatrical I used to be, which was when he pulled out the yearbooks and proceeded to point out that I was in every play and music show our high school ever produced (as if I didn’t know).

Nick barely stirs, but he’s always been a hard sleeper. Guess that’s the future rock god in him. Party hard. Sleep harder.

Climbing out of bed, I step over him and head to his bathroom to splash some cool water on my face, finger comb my hair, and steal his mouthwash.

When I’m done, I head downstairs, helping myself to the Camden pantry, where Mrs. Camden still keeps her favorite 9-grain wheat bread on the same shelf as she did a decade ago.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say to Nick a minute later as I slide slices into the toaster oven on the counter.

Nick shuffles to the fridge, gabbing eggs and juice and milk, humming a Melrose Nights song under his breath.

I was worried this morning would be awkward, after everything we said last night, but so far it’s just like any other day and we’re still the same old Nicky and Mel.

“Do you remember that time we stole a bunch of your dad’s vodka and filled the bottles with water?” I ask as I butter a piece of toast.

Nick yawns. “That’s random, but yeah.”

“And do you remember when we went to that party over in Brentwood and the cops got called, so we hid in the bushes until the sun came up?”

He turns to me, smiling. “Of course.”

We finish making breakfast and sit at the table next to the patio doors, watching the wind make ripples on the glassy pool water.

With a full belly and a heavy heart, I reach across the table, placing my hand over his. “I should go. Think I’m going to order an Uber.”

His lips flatten and a moment later, he nods. “Thanks for letting me down easy last night.”

I chuckle. “What did you expect? You’re my best friend.”

We exchange a sweet look.

“And you always will be,” I add. “No matter what.”

By three in the morning, the two of us had thoroughly discussed the difference between childhood crushes and true adult affections and came to the same conclusion.

I also told him that I was falling for Sutter.

I wanted him to hear it from me first, straight up no chaser.

Because as soon as I get home today, I’m going to tell Sutter. In twenty-four hours, I’ll be gone. And he needs to know how I feel. I don’t want to spend the next two months in the bayou wondering what would’ve happened if only I had spoken up, told him exactly how I feel, and not beat around the bush because his frozen heart was intimidating.

Ten minutes later, my ride arrives. Nick walks me to the door, and I turn, throwing my arms around his shoulders, breathing in the musty, bar-scented remnants of last night, and then I kiss him on the cheek.

Climbing in the back of my ride, I check the time. It’s going to be cutting it close, but depending on traffic, I should be able to get home in time to talk to him before he leaves for work.

I SLIDE TWO TWENTY-DOLLAR bills on the coffee table Friday morning as Tuck wakes.

“Pizza,” I sign.

He gives a thumbs up before rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

He’s been here since Wednesday now, and I’m thinking it’s a good sign Dad hasn’t created a massive shit storm. Yet. He’s probably on one of his famous three-day benders. If it’s not payday today, he might find a hot minute of sobriety this weekend.

I’m sure I’ll hear from him then.

In the meantime, I need to make sure Tuck is adjusting okay. I’ve already spoken to the headmaster at the Bellhaven School for the Deaf, and they’ve agreed to let him start first thing Monday.

I’ll have to leave extra early in the morning to drop him off and arrange his transportation in the evening, but if it gets him out of that shithole and away from that drunk bastard, it’ll be well worth my time and effort.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” I sign.

Tuck shrugs.

“Road trip?” I ask. We’ve never done one of those before. Could be fun. I’m thinking maybe someplace with mountains, somewhere far away from all the things that remind me of her. “Think about it and let me know.”

I check the time, grab my keys, and head out to my truck. By the time I’m backing out of the driveway, I spot a white Toyota pulling up by the curb.

I watch from my rearview as the rear passenger door opens and out steps Melrose in last night’s wrinkled clothes. At least I presume. Her hair is a mess and even from here, I can tell her makeup is smudged. Despite the fact that she’s still the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, all of that serves as a reminder that she spent the night with Nick.

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