That is … if you let it.
I can’t watch Oliver fall victim to it any longer. My love for him is too strong. I will sacrifice us to save him.
“Oliver?”
He finally blinks and I see him recognize me as his eyes start to focus, but his expression remains lifeless.
“Go home.”
His words shatter me inside, but I refuse to let him see it. I swallow back every single emotion that’s threatening on the surface as I stand and get dressed. He’ll come back to you. Jackie’s words strum through my head, but they don’t give me comfort. Looking at him now, I’m not sure he’ll ever come back to any of us.
I gather my stuff and zip my suitcase. Oliver doesn’t even flinch. I set my suitcase and purse by the door and grab my broken phone. Then I hunch down in front of him.
He closes his eyes. “I’ll wait for you at home.” I lean in and press my lips to his forehead. “But only for forever.” I press my palm to his cheek and move my lips to his ear. “No take backs, Oli.”
I find a cheap hotel near the airport to stay the night. Luckily my phone still works even though the screen is cracked into jagged lines and chipped pieces. It’s Christmas so I imagine both my family and Oliver’s are enjoying their own festivities and time with loved ones. As much as my heart needs comforting and my mind needs reassurance, I don’t call anyone. One day isn’t going to make a difference except to ruin someone else’s day. Mine and Oliver’s is enough.
I’m not giving up on him. I could never do that. He told me to leave and I’m giving him space. My love is his—it’s unconditional, patient, and waiting for his return. Sometimes the only way to hold on to someone is to let them go. I regret nothing. Melanie’s tragic death cannot be erased, it cannot be forgotten, and it cannot be ignored. He laid her tiny body to rest and gave her brief, but no less important, life necessary closure. Now he needs to do the same for himself. Oliver needs to lay his anger and hatred to rest. Forgiveness is letting go and letting go is painful. It’s not something we do for others; it’s something we do for ourselves.
I put on my clown face. Alex is getting married in three days, and I will not let her see how crushed I am on the inside. Jackie and Hugh are the only ones who know what happened on Christmas in Portland with Oliver. As his parents, they needed to know that he’s hit bottom and that I can no longer help him. Jackie boarded a plane yesterday for Portland … I’d hoped she would.
“You didn’t do anything lame like book pedicures and dinner at some family restaurant by the harbor, did you, Flower?” Alex squints at my reflection in the mirror as I curl her hair.
“Yes, that’s why the invitations said masquerade ball attire.” I roll my eyes.
“Will there be a naked guy? There better be, it was my only stipulation.”
“Will there be a naked girl at Sean’s bachelor party tonight?”
Alex laughs. “I can’t believe you’re even asking that. Kai’s in charge … I’m sure there will be more than one naked girl.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” I pin up some of her spiraled curls as she puts on her mascara.
“Hell no. They’re strippers, not prostitutes.”
I raise a brow and smirk.
“Well … okay, you never know what Kai will do, but I trust Sean.”
“You should. He adores you.”
“Wow, that’s quite the endorsement considering how much shit you two give each other.”
I shrug. “It’s all in good fun. Now let’s get your dress and mask on.”
“Eek! I can’t believe you got everyone masks. This is going to be so much fun!”
We put on our party dresses. Alex’s is light pink lace and satin, and her laser cut butterfly mask is white. The rest of us girls will have black masks. My dress is a gold strapless chiffon with a short skirt and my hair is pulled up exposing the top of my tattoo. But who cares? I’ll never look at myself the same way again: It will always be through Oliver’s eyes—beautiful.
“Oh my God … look at you!” The eight other girls dressed in cocktail dresses and black masks on the party bus greet the bride-to-be with enthusiastic squeals.
I take a deep breath. I can do this. Maybe tonight is what I need to forget about Oliver, even if only for a few hours.
“Thank you all for reading your invitations!” I look around at eight girls with naked lips, then I hold up a bag filled with tubes of lipstick and pass it around. “Everyone gets a different color and don’t try to find something subtle and elegant. They’re all obnoxiously bright and wild.”
More squeals, clapping, and bouncing ensue as we add the finishing touch to our hot, sexy, here-comes-trouble look for the night. I can do this … I can forget about Oliver.
I can’t do this. I can’t stop thinking about Oliver. Even after three beers and four shots, all I see is him. The party bus takes us to a club in the theater district and the bare ass shaking six inches from my face is Oliver’s. So I do the only thing I can … I spank it.
“Now who’s on the naughty list?” I giggle.
His jiggly glutes come to a firm halt. Then he turns and stares at me with wide-eyed shock. I adjust my mask thinking that it’s causing my blurred vision, but it’s not. I was wrong. The guy … Mr. Shaky Buns—not Oliver.
“Miss?” A guy in a black suit taps my shoulder.
I look up.
“I have to ask you to refrain from that type of interaction with the performers. If you’d like to pay for something more hands-on I could arrange for a private room.”
I look at Mr. Shaky Buns. He grins and winks at me.
“I’m … uh … good. Sorry.”
“Oh my God!” Alex collapses on my lap with her hands around my neck. “You spanked him!” She closes her glazed-over eyes and laughs.
The night continues on in similar fashion. My mind is altered by alcohol and Oliver … not a safe combination for the unfortunate citizens of Boston that encounter our rowdy group. We leave our stamp—lip stamp—everywhere we go: doors, mirrors, tables, booths, DJ’s, strippers, and unsuspecting bystanders.
It’s three a.m. by the time the bus drops off the last bridesmaid before taking me and Alex home.
“Best. Bachelorette. Party. Ever!” Alex leans against me as the bus approaches our place. Her eyes fight to stay open as her tongue gets in the way, slurring her words.
I kiss her forehead, leaving my purple stamp next to the eight other colorful lip prints on her face, then I take a picture of her. “I’m glad you had fun. Now … time to sleep.”
We both stumble off the bus in a giggly fit and call it a night or morning.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Forgiveness
Oliver
Fucking hangovers! I should be used to the pounding headaches and the taste of monkeys shitting in my mouth by now.
Prior to my move to Portland three years ago, the last time I was this intoxicated was my freshman year of college. Since the move back to Cambridge, I can’t even count how many times I’ve felt like I do right now.
“Welcome back.”
I try to peel open my eyes. It feels like sandpaper against my pupils. “Blinds.”
“Nope, they stay open, dear.”
“Mom?” I sit up and rub my temples.
She hands me a glass of water. “I should be upset that you’ve been binge drinking for the past two days, but had you been in your right and stubborn mind you might not have told me where you were staying.”