“Is this about Michael?” Geoff asks tentatively.
I nod.
“Oh, hon. What happened?”
Ugh, it’s no use. Fresh tears spill onto my cheeks as I tell him about the week away with Michael that wasn’t supposed to happen, about everything between him and I in the cabin. I tell him about Mel and the hospital, getting the job and the argument with Michael. And then I tell him about Cat.
“Wait. So Michael’s ex-wife is Cat’s friend, Mel? What are the odds of that?”
I shrug. “I think Cat knows Mel because she used to live upstairs.”
“Oh. Right.” He’s quiet for a moment, then speaks again. “I have to ask… are you sure you want to end things with him? You two are so good together and I know how much you like him.”
“I don’t have a choice, Geoff. I thought things with him were real, that he understood me and supported me, but… I was wrong. Like I always am. And as for Cat—” I break off and look down at my hands as my throat tightens. Here I was thinking Cat and I were friends, but she won’t believe a word I say. How can you have a friendship with someone who doesn’t trust you?
Geoff puts an arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “She’ll come around.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“If Mel is with Mark—if the things you said are true—then she has no reason not to. She might just have to learn it the hard way.”
I sag back on the sofa, overwhelmed with exhaustion. Not just from the emotional roller coaster of everything with Michael, or the drama with Mel and my writing, or the argument with Cat; from everything here in New York. It feels too hard, all of a sudden.
“Maybe I should go home,” I mumble.
Geoff gives me an encouraging smile. “Yes. I’m sure Cat will—”
“To New Zealand.”
His face falls. “Oh, no. Oh, please don’t. I know this feels shitty right now, but things will get better.”
I swallow as tears fill my eyes again.
“I promise things will get better. Don’t leave.” He hugs me again, tighter. “Besides, what would the bookstore do without you?”
I give him a watery smile. As much as I love working there, that’s the least of my problems now.
“Get some sleep,” he says, standing and gathering a pillow and blankets for me. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
He takes my hands and hauls me up off the sofa, then sets about pulling out the sofa bed and making it up while I stand there numbly. With another hug, Geoff pads to bed, flicking the lights off as he leaves. An eerie glow falls over the room, cast by the street light outside the window. I shiver as I peel my clothes off and pull on my pajamas. I haven’t had a chance to do my laundry since getting back from the cabin, and my clothes smell like Michael after spending so much time wrapped up in his arms. As I climb onto Geoff’s sofa bed, my heart hurts so much I can’t sleep. Instead, I just curl up in the darkness and sob into the pillow.
When my eyes open the next morning, there’s a blissful moment where I don’t yet remember what has happened. But as I gaze around Geoff’s apartment, it all comes screaming back to me.
The week at the cabin with Michael, his kisses on my lips, his hands on my skin. Him telling me he’s falling for me, then telling me to give up my writing, making me feel stupid about my parents, comparing me to his nasty ex-wife.
It was awful, but despite everything, misery settles over me when I think about the fact that I told him it was over. And lying here now, alone, I physically ache with missing him.
Did I make a huge mistake?
No. Because all I have to do is remind myself of his words, and bile rises in my throat. How could he know me at all? And how could he care about me, if he can’t care about what matters to me?
God, I was deluded, believing I could have a happily ever after with him. Of course it was just a fantasy. Everything with Michael felt too good to be true. I just didn’t want to see it until it was too late.
I prop myself up on my elbows. The sofa bed squeaks beneath me and I let out a weighted sigh. Because I didn’t just lose Michael yesterday. I lost Cat and my apartment. And maybe, I also lost my fledgling career.
Pulling myself up, I grab some fresh clothes and head to the bathroom. I’m weak with gratitude when I see Geoff has left a towel out for me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
I step under the stream of water and rinse myself, determined to find a way out of this mess. Things might not have worked out with Michael, but that doesn’t mean my life is over. In fact, now that Michael’s gone, I could write the column for Justin—if Mel hasn’t already ruined that opportunity for me. It might not have come about exactly as I wanted, but the important thing here is that I need to do what’s right for me. And that’s putting my writing first.
My mind drifts to the fight with Cat as I scrub. I so desperately want to talk to her again and explain myself more clearly. I said everything in the heat of the argument; no wonder she didn’t believe me. And if she went to Mel afterward, Mel would have simply denied it. But I know if I can explain myself calmly and rationally, Cat will have to listen to me.
And then another thought occurs to me. If Cat did talk to Mel after I left, then Mel will know I told Cat about Mark. And that will make Mel even more determined to hurt me. If she thinks I not only hooked up with
