After Declan had hung up on me, I cried, pouted, and berated myself until I heard the front door open. My mom and Timothy were home. Perfect.

I covered my mouth and stared at the door, hoping Mom wouldn’t knock. One look at me, and she’d know I’d been crying. She probably wouldn’t care about that or that I was drunk, but she’d be pissed as hell if she saw the half-empty bottle of my stepfather’s favorite scotch.

I heard the heavy click of her heels on the stairs. As she passed my door, she let out a long list of passive-aggressive comments about how terrible the evening had been. Things she’d never say to her husband’s face or even admit to feeling. I’d gotten used to the angry glares she threw at him whenever his back was turned, whenever he mentioned one of his female employees. Didn’t take a lot of intelligence to know why. Didn’t take a lot of deduction to know that he was banging them whenever he could and that my mom knew it, too.

I took a deep breath when she slammed her bedroom door. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with her until tomorrow. I lifted the bottle to my lips again and thought about Declan.

I hadn’t been able to tell him what happened over the phone, not when tonight was supposed to be his night for facing his fears and doing something brave. Even now, assuming he’d answer my call, I didn’t know what to say that would make him any less furious at me for missing his show and, more importantly, for being there when he told the guys he was leaving the band.

Even though the confrontation with Cal hadn’t gone anything like I’d imagined or had been prepared for, I knew Declan would’ve been proud of me for trying, though. Once he actually knew I’d tried.

Keeping the image of his face in my mind was the only way I’d been able to say the things I’d never been able to say before. Until everything had gone upside down, I could still imagine him telling me how proud he was of my courage and strength and that he wanted to be with me. And I’d agree because I would finally be free.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he was supposed to be setting up his future, and I was supposed to be next to him.

And some other night, I was supposed to tell him every word I’d used to finally tell off Cal, and Declan was supposed to be listening, cheering when I got to a particularly good comeback.

I didn’t get any of that right.

I needed to get out of this place, find someone to tell me it would all be okay, that I’d live. I wanted it to be Declan, but that wasn’t possible. I was depressed and drunk—two great reasons to chuck my phone across the room so I wouldn’t be tempted to call him back. I flipped it over so the screen faced the floor, but I couldn’t let go of it. As if this all-knowing piece of plastic and chips was my only lifeline. Wow, wasn’t that the saddest realization of life ever?

“Please, someone just tell me I haven’t ruined everything.” Evidently, I’d had my finger on the phone’s home button because someone answered.

“I’m not sure I understand.” Sure, the smartphone feature was an unfeeling voice that didn’t give a shit about me—or anything at all. But at least that stupid singsong voice was listening. She had a totally reasonable answer, too.

“Me neither,” I mumbled.

“Here is what I found on the web for ruined everything.”

I flipped the phone over to see what she’d found, almost expecting it to be a mirror reflecting my own pathetic face back at me. Nope, but it was almost as good. The lyrics to a Jonathan Coulton song - “I was fine. I pulled myself together. Just in time to throw myself away…”

I stopped there.

I clicked the home button to get rid of the YouTube link and saw that I’d been crying through four missed calls and a bunch of unread texts. One call was from Emilia, and three were from Andi. Then I read through the missed texts. They were all on one thread—a three-way chat with my two best friends.

Emilia had started the discussion a few hours ago. ‘What’s up, ladies? Anyone want to do breakfast tomorrow?’

Andi had replied almost immediately. ‘Sure. Hayden can drop me off around 9 on his way to the office. Does that work?’

‘Does he always work on Sundays?’

’Not normally. But he’s working on something important and needs a quiet office. I keep telling him he can work from home, but evidently, I’m too distracting.’ Then a winky face.

‘Told you married life wouldn’t kill your sex life.’ A laughing face.

‘But my sex life may end up killing me.’ Lots more laughing faces from both of them.

‘Can you meet us, Sara?’ from Emilia. Then, about a minute later, she’d written, ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

‘She’s probably out, living the life neither of us ever had.’

‘Hey, I had that life once! For about fifteen minutes. Ha!’

Obviously, they were just teasing and knew I’d be reading their back and forth, but it felt as if I were eavesdropping on a private conversation. Between two women who managed to have it all, who loved their lives and their husbands, and themselves. And made it look so easy.

I typed a response, the shaking of my fingers having nothing to do with the booze.

‘I screwed up. And I need help.’ I pressed send before I could think too hard about it. About the possible lectures, the I-told-you-so’s, the judgments.

Their replies weren’t anything like I’d thought they would be.

‘Anything. Just tell us how we can help,’ from Andi and ‘I’m on my way. Where are you?’ from Emilia.

I started sobbing—ugly, ugly tears flooding my eyes and dripping onto the screen. ‘Mom’s house.’

‘Be there in two minutes.’

Emilia lived at least ten minutes away, but I understood.

‘Thank you.’

‘Do not go anywhere, Sara. Got it?’

I nodded. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

‘Bring her over here, Emilia.’

‘K.’

Then the phone rang, and a picture of Andi and me appeared on the screen. It had been taken about six weeks ago at her wedding. We were both smiling stupidly at the camera, our arms around each other, laughing. I put her on speaker so I could keep looking at the photo. We’d been so damn happy that day. So damn happy, I’d been able to forget everything painful.

“Hey,” I said quietly, trying not to blubber all over the phone.

“Emilia will be there soon, but I thought I’d call to shoot the shit, you know?”

“Keep me talking so I won’t fall unconscious?”

“Is that a possibility, Sara?” I heard the edge in her tone, the fear.

“No. I’m not that bad off. I’m just…” I’m just what? Losing it. Miserable. Alone. Afraid life will always be like this.

“Can you give me a little context here?” Andi asked. “Because honestly, I’ve never been so worried in my life. My brain is doing flip-flops with all the possibilities. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah. I’m so alone.”

“No, you’re not, Sara. We’re here. We’ll always be here. Okay?” When I didn’t respond audibly, she repeated herself. “Sara, we’re here for you. No matter what. But you’ve gotta let us know what’s going on.”

I nodded again, knowing all of it was true. They’d be there for me, and I had to let them in. I had to tell them everything, even though I had no idea where to start.

“We had something, you know?” I whimpered. “Declan and I? I finally had something good, and I screwed it up. I thought I was finally doing the right thing and would finally be able to get over it. But then Cal ruined it again, and I didn’t know what to do. He made me forget everything good, so I screwed things up with Declan. It wasn’t my fault. Well, I mean it was—it was my fault, but I didn’t mean it.”

I knew I wasn’t making sense and that there was no possible way she could understand me, but she didn’t ask for clarification. She just kept saying, “It wasn’t your fault,” and “Everything will be okay.” All the things I wanted to hear, whether or not they were true…and whether or not they were possible.

I took the phone away from my ear when I heard the swish sound of a new text.

‘I’m here. Should I knock, or do you just want to come out?’ Emilia must have broken every traffic law on her way over because it definitely hadn’t been ten minutes.

‘I’ll come out,’ I quickly typed.

My stepfather might still be downstairs, and I didn’t want to see him. He’d passed on his DNA and sense of entitlement to the asshole who’d started all of this. I grabbed my biggest purse and tossed in a change of clothes and my phone, then wedged the bottle of scotch in between layers of clothing, slipped on some boots, and ran downstairs.

“You’re home early,” Timothy said from the living room as I ran past him. “Leaving late, then.”

I was surprised he’d ever noticed when I came home or went out. But I didn’t care. I slammed the front door behind me and jogged down the steps to Emilia’s car.

She was standing next to it, gripping her phone. As soon as she saw me, she slid back into the driver’s seat and reached across to open the passenger side for me. I tossed my bag into the back, grimacing when I remembered the crystal bottle that was in there and hoping it wouldn’t empty all over my stuff and Emilia’s back seat.

“Shit! I forgot there was liquid in there.” After I’d closed the door, I reached into the back to move it to the floor and set it upright.

“Don’t worry about it,” Emilia said. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. But can we leave now?”

Her reply was to shift the car into drive and hit the gas pedal so hard, the tires squealed. I laughed, imagining how furious my stepfather would be when he saw the ugly marks on his fancy stone driveway.

We drove off in silence, Emilia’s hands gripping the wheel.

“What’s that sound?”

I looked at her, not knowing what she was referring to. Then I heard it. Someone was yelling something that sounded like my name, their voice distant and muffled. The radio was off, so I looked into the side mirror, not expecting to see my mom running down the street yelling my name or anything, but I didn’t know where it was coming from.

“Crap!” I turned around and rummaged through my bag until I found my phone and hit the speaker button.

“…swear to God, I’m calling 911 if you don’t answer me right now!”

Emilia and I both jerked at the volume of Andi’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I forgot to end the call.”

“I have her, Andi. We’re on our way to your place.”

Her deep breath was audible. “Okay. Okay, good.” Then her voice lowered. “They’re fine, Hayden.” His reply was mumbled. “I’m okay, too…now.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“It’s fine, Sara. Just make sure Em doesn’t crash on the way here. I’m going to calm down and make us some tea. Unless you need something stronger.”

“I kind of had a bit too much earlier, so tea sounds good.”

“Make mine a double,” Emilia said, smiling. “See you soon.”

---

When we arrived, Andi was waiting at the door, arms out and ready for me to walk into them. “We’re going to fix whatever’s going on, okay?” She let me go and smiled. “And if we can’t fix it, we’ll kill it.”

“Pretend I’m not here.” Hayden set down a tea pot on the coffee table in the living room just as we walked in. “Unless you need anything else.”

“We’re fine, hon. Thanks.”

“And you’ll—”

“We’ll let you know if that changes,” Andi said, nodding.

Hayden turned around and headed toward his office. I’d only been to their house a couple of times since they’d remodeled it. The upgrades had been Hayden’s wedding gift to Andi, and he’d gone way over the top, turning the outdated house of Andi’s childhood into a larger, smarter, beautiful home for the children they planned to have.

“It’s chamomile.” Andi poured the steaming liquid into a mug and handed one to me before filling the other two. No one said anything until we all had something hot to wrap our hands around. No one said anything after that either—they just stared at me, obviously waiting for me to start.

One step at a time. “Remember when I told you nothing was wrong?”

“Which time?”

“All of them. At least all of them in the last year or so. Well, that wasn’t true—something was wrong.”

Over the next hour, these women proved over and over why I never should’ve kept this secret from them. They listened to my whole story without saying a word to insinuate any of it was my fault or to hint that they didn’t believe me. One or both of them gave me a hug when I need one and gave me space when I needed a break.

I told them everything—about Cal and my mother, why I’d been afraid to tell them the truth, and what had happened a few hours ago. I didn’t leave anything out, and it felt amazing. Amazing and horrible. By the time I’d run out of things to say, I was exhausted.

“I should’ve come clean a long time ago,” I said, sitting back against the couch and stretching out legs that had been tucked under me for too long. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Apology not accepted.” Emilia set down her tea cup. “Because it’s not necessary. I wish it had occurred to me that your silence was because it was too hard for you to say. Instead, I took it personally and treated you in exactly the opposite way I should’ve.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Andi said. “But it’s in the past, and from this moment on, we can do better. I’m ready to help you in any way you need, and I’d guess the same thing goes for Emilia.” She turned to her. “Yes?”

“Absolutely. Name it.”

“I can’t go back to that house.” I couldn’t take running into Cal again, or looking at my mom’s face, knowing she took his side over her own daughter’s. My mom had chosen her walk-in closet over me. She’d decided not to believe her daughter because believing me would’ve ruined her perfect, imaginary world.

“Damn straight, you can’t. You can stay with Rob and me.” Emilia cringed guiltily as she remembered something. “As long as you don’t mind tripping over boxes.”

“No, you should stay here,” Andi said, “for as long as you want. We have the room. Plus, it would give us some time to talk about this Declan guy, who Emilia already got to meet.”

I sighed. Emilia and Andi were amazing and completely irreplaceable, and so was Declan. I’d been an idiot to fight how I felt about him, to pretend it wasn’t real. It was real.

“About Declan...He’s the other thing I might have messed up tonight.”