Page 96 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

Sometimes I think losing Micha destroyed Andy. She fell fast and hard for him, but she was his first as he was hers. After high school, she became quickly obsessed that he needed to experience more life. More women. That she was somehow holding him back from those experiences. That obsession quickly festered into an ugly insecurity. A jealousy that poisoned the good they had so badly, it couldn’t be fixed.

She accused him constantly of looking at other girls. Of wanting other women. It didn’t matter how he tried to show her that he loved her, those insecurities ate away at her.

She broke things off with him seven months after graduation. I think she’s regretted it since because she hasn’t had a single serious relationship with a man, and she sobbed her heart out when Micha met and proposed to his now wife, Mandy.

It was shortly after their wedding that Andy packed up and moved into the city. I think the hardest part for Andy is that she adores Mandy, too. But seeing the man she loved, and maybe still loves, in love with a good woman stung.

“I don’t need a fling.” I wave off the absurd idea. “I’m just not that person.”

Andy leans into the table, popping her chin in her palm. “What kind of person is that?”

I lift a shoulder. “I’m not judging casual sex. I just—” I look down and catch sight of the gold plate that dangles from between two thin chains clasped around my ankle. “I’m not sure I can separate sex from feelings.”

Tate gave the anklet to me shortly after graduation. It’s engraved with the words, He loves you. I’ve never been sure if he meant that Holt loves me, as he told me so many times. Or if it was always his way of telling me he loved me.

I never could bring myself to ask.

“You should try it. Sex without strings is cathartic.”

The waitress comes by, and I order a fishbowl slushie. It’s ridiculous, but I’m feeling like I need something to drown in right about now. Why not a bowl of tropical colored, booze infused, slushie?

I’m halfway through my fishbowl when Shy sits back in the booth. “God, this is good.”

I bob my head. “I forgot how good these are.”

“Like being twenty again.” Shy moans, and her eyes roll. “I don’t know how I got to be thirty with two kids under seven. I’m exhausted all the time.” She leans forward to suck slushie from her straw. “We need to book the grandparents and jet off to somewhere warm.” She points a scarlet red nail down toward her drink. “Where they make these, and we can drink them all day long by a pool. Where no kids are pulling on me or talking to me.”

“I’m in,” Quinn agrees. “Tell me when to book.”

“I don’t mean I don’t love my kids. I do.” Shy pulls on her straw again. “I would just love the chance to miss them, you know?”

“I get it,” I say around my own straw. “Totally.”

“I’m free anytime but late August.” Andy plucks a crusty nacho from the center of the table. “The gallery can survive without me any time but then.”

Andy is a successful painter who, after years of rejection, started making videos online to showcase her art. Now she has her own gallery. Her love life might be an absolute tornado, but her career is soaring beautifully.

“Are we really doing this?” I shiver because I’m drinking a frozen sugar bomb like I’m twenty and not thirty-one.

I’m also in an uber cute dress because we decided eons ago that we’d dress up when we went out, no matter how ridiculous dressing up super fancy in Rubble Ridge felt. And it did feel ridiculous, because there was not a single restaurant here in which wearing jeans and a sweater wasn’t entirely acceptable wear for an evening out.

“Why not?” Shy slurs, but only a little. I smile, because it’s cute.

“Yeah? Why not?” Willow asks.

“All right. Let’s plan it.” I feel giddy.

I think the room might sway a little, and that makes me giggle. I like slushies.

12

DRINK UP, BUTTERCUP!

APRIL 2023 – PRESENT DAY

Ispent the Easter Holiday in my apartment surfing for something to numb my thoughts—because they were either of her or revolved around her. If I wasn’t planted on the couch, I was in the gym that came with the condo. It didn’t matter how many reps I did, how I exhausted my body, I couldn’t seem to exhaust my mind enough to push her from it.

I’ve had years of practice pushing Faye Fucking Wilder from my mind. But all those years went up in flames the moment I saw her again.