Page 45 of Pity Party

Melissa eventually wanders back in my direction. “We should get moving if we’re going to get a day of shopping in.”

I lead the way back to the passage. “After you,” I say, hoping to at least appear chivalrous. Shy of that, as gallant as possible after kissing her before telling her I don’t want to date her.

“You go ahead,” she says. “I’ll walk up the path.”

“I’ll walk with you,” I hurriedly offer.

“Then I’ll take the secret passage.”

Ah, she doesn’t want to be alone with me. “Okay,” I say. “You take the path and I’ll meet you back at the house.” She’s on her way before I even finish my sentence.

I feel terrible about what’s transpired between me and Melissa today; I’m sick at the thought that I might have hurt her feelings. But it wasn’t totally my fault; the woman kissed me first, and what a kiss it was. As I retrace my steps down the corridor toward what I hope will be my new house, it occurs to me that every time I take this path, I’m going to remember that kiss.

I might have to fill the passage in with cement after all. If for no other reason than to try to forget the most enticing thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

MELISSA

I’m so mad right now I could spit bullets— and not regular ones, either. The kind that explode into a billion pieces on impact. Who in the world kisses someone like Jamie just kissed me before telling them he doesn’t even want to be friends?

I stomp harder with every step like I’m trying to turn a vat of grapes into wine. The image of that oldI Love Lucyepisode pops into my head and I fantasize Jamie is with me so I can do to him what Lucy did to that Italian lady. Grr.

When I get to the house, I march up the steps to the front door. Everything feels different as I step inside. The air, the energy—is the paint color on the wall dingier than before? “Sammy? Anna? Where are you?” I call out.

“We’re in the back bedroom!” Sammy shouts. “Hurry up! You have to see this!” Her excitement causes my annoyance to slow to a simmer.

She’s in the room that used to be Stacy’s. Not only does it have its own bathroom, but decades ago someone knocked a wall down and turned a smaller bedroom into a walk-in closet.

I peek into the blush-pink-colored room. When I don’t see Sammy, I walk in and take a left into the closet. She’s sitting on the floor staring up at a twinkling chandelier in wonder. “Can you believe this closet?”

“It’s changed a lot since I saw it last,” I tell her while looking around. Someone has clearly spent a fortune on a closet system. There are half racks, full racks, built-in shoe racks, and even a purse display. “Forget the bedroom, you should live inhere.”

“I know, right? I wish Dad would let me post on social media. I’d love to show those girls in Chicago that I’ve come out on top.”

“It’s probably good to keep your new life as far away from them as you can,” I caution.

“But I want revenge.”

“Revengefantasieswill get you through a lot of hard times,” I tell her. “But fantasies are better than the real thing.”

“Why?” she wants to know.

Stepping farther into the closet, I sit down next to her. “Because tangible revenge is hard to come by. Also, you don’t want to put any negativity into the world.”

“I’m not talking about hurting them. Just showing them how well I’m doing.”

I nod my head slowly. “I get it, Sammy. I really do. But the bottom line is that you need to live your life in the present and let the past go. If you keep turning around and looking behind you, you’re going to miss some great stuff that’s right in front of you.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

“That was a speech my therapist gave to me after my fiancé died.” I look around and ask, “Where’s Anna?”

“In the bathroom. She says she goes all the time now.”

“That’s one part of pregnancy I’m not looking forward to,” I tell her.

“When do you think you’ll get pregnant? If you do it soon then I can be your babysitter.”

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