Breakups sucked. We hadn’t broken up, but I was in the middle of a breakup phase—too emotional, angry, and burning with the need to stuff myself with copious amounts of junk food.

I hated men.

Ok. I didn’t hate them, but some of them were assholes who didn’t deserve women spilling their tears over them. Yet, I had lost count of used tissues because I cried all night long for Liam.

I couldn’t go to work courtesy of my stupid brain, which kept returning to Liam and reminding me that I fell for him too hard and now I had to deal with the consequences.

I had thought, foolishly—I knew—that despite his circumstances, he felt something for me. How could I explain all those tender glances he cast at me or the intimate moments we shared in his or my place? We had connected, and for the first time ever it was like I’d finally found my soulmate. And no, I wasn’t being sappy. There was something in the time we spent together that reminded me of how lonely I had actually been.

Now, I didn’t know what was worse. Not experiencing that special connection at all or having experienced it but losing it for good.

What a mess. Oh well. Hello wine, my old friend.

I grabbed the bottle and poured more wine into my glass.

“You look like you’ve been slicing a whole bag of raw onions,” Marissa said, seated on the couch across from me.

Ugh. Raw onions. One of my worst nightmares.

“This is worse than onions. Worse than period cramps, even.”

“Impossible,” Claire responded, sitting next to me. “Period cramps are the worst!”

Marissa grinned. “I don’t have period cramps at all, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” I muttered and put a handful of popcorn into my mouth.

Claire and Marissa had come to my place to cheer me up, but so far they were failing miserably in their mission I called “Forget Liam, be happy”.

“I feel like crap,” I said.

I had told them about our fight yesterday, but so far they hadn’t put their two cents in. I took a large gulp of my wine, intending on getting tanked. I didn’t want to feel like this, and I counted on the alcohol to erase these stupid feelings, at least temporarily. I was tipsy, but it wasn’t enough.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Marissa asked me. “Those eye circles look creepy enough to scare any thief that might come to your door.”

“Nope. I couldn’t sleep a wink. Cheers to that.” I took another swallow, appreciating the rich taste of red wine.

“Get some rest,” Claire, always a wise one, advised. “I’m sure you’ll get better then.”

Yeah, right. If a good rest could solve everything, we wouldn’t have crippling depressions and other equally gloomy conditions.

“Do you have any other advice, Dr. Phil? Because I see you’re on a roll here.”

“Just that the two of you should have a nice, long conversation. Not an argument but a conversation. You’ve told him he doesn’t care about you, but how can you be so sure? What if he is conflicted? What if he actually likes you but has to go back to England, which stresses him out?”

I bit my lip, my doubt fighting for supremacy. I had reacted harshly, without giving him a chance to explain himself, but could things be different between us if he truly felt something for me?

“I don’t know.” I ran my hands over my face. “Now that I think about it, I know I reacted completely the wrong way. He’s dealing with a lot of things at the moment, and I was supposed to help him out, not make it harder on him. But then again, what about my feelings? How important am I to him?”

If it turned out that our time spent together meant nothing more to him than just a temporary pastime until he was back home, then… Then I didn’t know. Then I would have to find a way to move on. I would have to forget the fact that no matter how short it was, I felt something real, something raw that only he had made me feel.

“Give him some time,” Claire said. “He is too confused at the moment, which is only normal since he’s experiencing a major setback in his career. Anyone in his place would feel lost and insecure.”

“So you think I overreacted?”

“I think that he needs time to deal with his feelings. He can’t focus on his feelings for you—in case he has them—because he’s dealing with other things. In fact, and don’t get me wrong, I think you probably made things worse for him.”

“Worse?”

“Yes because not only he lost his place in the Euro cup, but he also lost you, and I’m sure he has no clue how to deal with all these problems in his life at the moment. I understand this isn’t fair for you because you deserve to know where you’re at, but you have to take into account that all he lived for until now was his career. Then you came along, and if he feels something for you, he has to adapt to this and reconsider his options.”

“I agree with Claire,” Marissa said. “I think he wouldn’t spend that much time with you if he hadn’t felt something for you.”

“He spent time with me because of his post-surgery rehab.”

“He could’ve picked any other therapist for the job. He picked you. I don’t think that’s meaningless.”

“So you both think he really cares for me?”

Marissa nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, girl. You might not have noticed it, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t see you just as a fling.”

“Then what can I do? Come on, I’m losing my mind here. Give me some advice.”

“Do you care for him? Like really, really care?” Claire asked me.

“Of course, I do. Why do you think I’ve bawled my eyes out for him? I’m wouldn’t waste my tears on someone that easily.”

Claire sighed, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Then fight for him. He needs support now more than ever, and you should be there for him if you really care for him.”

“Communication is super important,” Marissa added. “That’s the key each time Daniel and I encounter problems in our marriage. We talk it out and our relationship becomes stronger afterward. So if you want to get somewhere with Liam, you two should learn to be honest with each other.”

I grabbed another handful of popcorn and shoved it into my mouth. “I care for him, and I really do want to make things better between us, but what is the point if he’ll leave eventually? It’s obvious that soccer is what is most important to him. I’ll always come in second place.”

“You can’t know that,” Claire said. “He’s pretty confused right now, so I’m sure he himself can’t figure out his feelings, but if you give him a chance and let him reach the conclusion at his own pace, you may find an answer you hadn’t expected.”

“Will you lend me some of your optimism, please? Because I really can’t find a solution for this. To be honest, I’m not sure if I should continue seeing Liam. After all, our ‘relationship’ won’t lead anywhere since he has to go back.”

Marissa tilted her head to the side. “But you heard him—he’s out of the competition. So, this means he’ll stay in the U.S. longer. That is enough time for you to find a solution.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? I mean, I pretty much blew everything up when I railed against him.”

“Don’t be so negative, girl. That is so unlike you. Cheer up and take the bull by the horns. If you don’t even try to help your situation, you’ll only regret it sooner or later and ask yourself ‘what if’. If he rejects you or tells you he’s finished with you, at least you tried.”

“So you’re telling me that I have to make the first move?”

“Obviously. You’re the one who attacked him and didn’t even let him explain himself. So at least apologize to him.”

“Ugh. That is going to be so embarrassing.”

“But at least you tried,” Claire reminded me.

“Fine. I’ll call him.”

Luckily, I was drunk enough to make the call right away, burning under their attentive stares. It rang and rang, but there was no answer and my call went straight to voicemail.

Embarrassment and nervousness curled into a tight ball in the pit of my belly as I cleared my throat.

“Umm, hi. It’s me, Alison. I know that I blew a fuse yesterday, and I’m really sorry about that. Can we talk about it? Umm, call me. If you want. Bye.”

Now, that sounded awkward. With a slight blush, I ended the call and met their gazes.

“So what now?”

Marissa clapped her hands together. “Now, we’re ending this pity party and we’re going to have some fun together. Come on. Life is too short to waste time on heartaches.”

Amen to that.