There is one option.
A piercing hot sensation shoots through my chest.
Cal’s forehead creases with confusion. “Didn’t my grandfather leave you some money after he passed?”
My body temperature spikes, and I try to take a deep breath to regulate myself. I’m not even sure who I’m most angry at—Cal for bring up the inheritance or my sister for wasting a majority of it.
Cal’s gaze hardens. “He did leave you some money, right?”
My jaw hurts from how hard I clamp down on my molars.
“What happened—”
I speak up before he can finish his sentence. “It’s gone.”
"How much did he give you?”
My nails bite into the flesh of my palms. “Why does it matter?”
His face softens. “Because you’re not the kind of person to blow through money like that unless something happened.”
“You know what? Forget I said anything.” I swipe the rest of my mail off the counter and leave the kitchen before he has a chance to ask me where the money went.
Cal warned me years ago about my sister, but I didn’t listen. If he found out about all the mistakes I made, he would be furious.
Not at me.
But for me.
And I know with all my heart that I can’t risk what a reaction like that might do to me, so I do what Cal has always done best.
I run.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Violet nudges me in the shoulder. “You didn’t even comment on Mr. Jeffries hitting on Ms. Reyes at the bar.”
“Mr. Jeffries likes Ms. Reyes? Since when?” I have worked with both of them at the school for years and never would have guessed either one liked the other based on their STEM rivalry.
“Apparently! Although the feeling is not mutual based on how quickly she shut him down.”
“It was pretty sad to watch.” Delilah clasps her hands over her heart. “But also weirdly entertaining. Kind of like one of those reality TV dating shows.”
“It’s a mystery how some people find their future spouses here.” I look around Last Call. The bar is old and run-down, but all the locals love it since the tourists don’t know about it. There is even a jukebox that still works if hit in the right spot.
“There’s always that tourist trap bar off Dale Mayberry Road if you’re in the mood for egotistical, stock market assholes who are obsessed with anal because regular sex is ‘too intimate.’” Violet throws up a pair of air quotes.
Delilah chokes on her seltzer. “I’m so glad I’m taken.”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to find the love of our life in high school.” Violet sticks out her tongue.
Delilah looks down at her ring with a smile. My chest tightens, the sensation screwing with my head. I’m not jealous of Delilah. I feel nothing but happiness for her and her husband, yet something in me feels off-kilter.
Maybe you are jealous.
The thought makes the acid in my stomach roll.
“I’m going to use the restroom.” I slide out of the booth and bolt toward the bathrooms.
A few people stop me along the way to say hello, but I keep the small talk to a minimum as I travel to the back of the bar.
The noise around me disappears as I shut the door and flip the lock. The sick churning sensation in my stomach remains, and I take a few deep breaths to ground myself.
Guilt always hits me first. It tramples all sensible thoughts, making me feel like a shitty person for being jealous of Delilah and Wyatt. Of wanting what they have and wishing it were me who was able to find someone special.
As quickly as the guilt arose, it fades away, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my chest—the same feeling I always get when I think about going home tonight and crawling into bed alone.
Better to be alone yet secure than in a relationship and worried.
It takes me a few minutes to gather myself and let the overwhelming nausea pass. By the time I return, Delilah and Violet have moved on to safer conversations and the empty feeling in my chest is no longer present.
It only took five minutes of deep breathing in a public bathroom to get there.
My mind drifts throughout the next hour. At one point, I go back to drawing mindless patterns through the condensation building on my glass of water.
“What do you think, Alana?” Delilah asks.
“What?” I blink.
“Did you hear a word of what I just said?”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Seriously, what’s gotten into you?” Violet turns to look at me.
“I think I’m going to have to sell the house.” Even though I spent the last two days processing the news, it still doesn’t feel real.
“What? Why?” Delilah gasps.
“Cami got into Wisteria Prep.”
“I knew she would! They’d be stupid not to pick her.” Delilah claps her hands together. Her enthusiasm quickly dies as she checks out the look on my face. “Wait. Are you going to sell the house to help pay for the school?”
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “I don’t have any other choice.”
“What about financial aid?” Violet frowns.
“They offered me a good amount, but even with the scholarship, it’s not enough to cover everything.”
“But you love the house.” Her scowl deepens.
“And I love Cami more.” My voice cracks. “You should have seen the look on her face when she got in.” My smile wobbles. “She spent the whole morning working on her dance moves because she wants to be ready for ballet with the big girls. There is no way I can say no.”
Delilah clasps on to my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Are you sure about this?”
No, I’m not, but hopefully by the time we are prepped to sell the house, I will be ready to come to terms with leaving it, even if it means breaking a piece of my heart in the process.
I stop in front of the empty store window and stare at my reflection in the glass.
My two best friends keep walking down the sidewalk, unaware of my absence as Violet continues talking to Delilah about her neighbor from hell. “Can you believe he actually told me to go buy earplugs? Like I’m the abnormal one because I don’t want to hear him fucking like a porn star at three a.m. I swear, one of these days I’m going to bring someone home just so he can see how it feels… What do you think—hey!” Violet backtracks.
Delilah follows behind, using her cane to prop herself up. Today is a sucky arthritis day for her, but she doesn’t let that stop her from chasing after Violet.
“Sorry.” I look over at them with a wobbly smile. “I got distracted.”
Delilah gives my shoulder a nudge. “What are you dreaming about this time?”
I shut my eyes and imagine the windowfront full of decor and glass pastry stands. “Summer-themed display. Bright colors that pop and treats featuring the fruits of the season.”
Violet sighs. “Sounds like a dream.”
That’s because it is.
“What do you think would be your bestseller?” Delilah points her cane at the window.
I look away from our reflections in the window. “Dee—”
She wags her finger in front of me. “Uh-uh-uh. You know how we play the game.”