Page 107 of Best I Never Had

I turn away, blubbering incoherent words as I finish off my literal sob story with an unintelligible “whatever.”

What hurts the most about this whole situation, and what keeps the fresh wave of tears constantly flowing, is how much it reminds me of Matteo. I’m never going to be enough. Never going to be worth committing a life to. Never going to be worth giving up a life of singledom. No matter what, I won’t fulfill whatever need or yearning Hayden or Matteo oranyone else has to settle down. I’m notevergoing to be enough for someone to finallychoose me.

I can’t believe I’m back here. All of those months spent crying over Matteo felt as if they were for nothing. I did all of that wallowing only to be back to where I was when Matteo tossed me aside. And for some reason, Hayden not choosing me hurts more than when Matteo dumped me. Maybe it’s the burned down hope that things were different with Hayden. Or maybe it’s that with Hayden, I didn’t just lose some guy, I also lost my best friend.

The single thought of having lost my best friend makes my chin tremble harder while the deep ache in my chest starts to pull at those knots that have grown thicker and tighter. And even though everything confusing about us is what causes my heart to ache, he’s the one that I want to go to and talk about it. I want to run to him and pour my heart out to him because he would know exactly what to do to make that ache stop. He would know exactly what to say to make me whole again.

I love him. So much.

But I lost him. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a fancier Thanksgiving dinner,” I say apologetically to Lucy from across my kitchen counter.

She shrugs. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers, her fork poking at the shrimp chow mein on her plate. “It’s better than staying in an empty apartment and having frozen mac and cheese.”

While our usual plans for Thanksgiving are to go home and have a warm and fully cooked meal by our parents, this year, our parents decided toforgo holiday traditions altogether and take a cruise to Alaska. Lucy and I hid our disappointment when we got the news, while it didn’t matter one bit to Carmen, who would be working anyway. So on a night that should have been spent surrounded by our childhood home, Lucy and I are sharing a meal taken out of paper to-go containers in my dimly lit kitchen with the fireplace rolling in the background.

When I stay silent a moment too long, my blank gaze zeroed in on the now cold noodles on my ceramic plate, Lucy reaches her hand toward me.

“Have you tried calling him?” she asks gently. I lower my head before giving a small shake and a firm-lipped smile, keeping the tears at bay while I try my best to stay in one piece.

“Maybe you should,” she adds.

I sigh and shake my head again. A fat drop of a tear starts to accumulate and pour from the outer corner of my eye. My chin begins to tremble for what feels like the hundredth time, and I lower my face even further to hide all of the uncontrollable, overwhelming emotions that cause it all to show on my face.

I hadn’t filled Lucy in on all the gritty details until she arrived at my apartment yesterday morning. After she got over the initial shock that I was “dating” HaydenfreakingMarshall, she bad-mouthed him, calling him a selfish playboy who used me before tossing me aside. And I didn’t have the energy in me to disagree with her. Mainly because I can’t. While I won’t go as far as claiming that I’ve merely become another notch on his bedpost that he’s rapidly tallying up, I sure as hell feel like I don’t matter enough to him to be considered otherwise. He so easily let the possibility of us slip through his fingers and let me walk away from us instead.

There it is again, that humiliating chill that runs through me every time I think about how I practically begged Hayden to want me. I can’t stop picturing the way my tears and trembling chin waved every plea I was trying to hold back.

I have to stop. All this rehashing and reliving, it’s making the pain unbearable.

I hear Lucy sigh. “You want to watch a movie?” she suggests with a cheerful smile. “I’ll let you pick.”

I lightly chuckle. “Sure.”

She stands from her seat, pushing our plates to one side before rummaging through my freezer. “Oh! You have the sugar-free mango sorbet!” she squeals.

I slowly stand from my own seat to take our plates to the sink before moving to the couch. I smile at Lucy over my shoulder. I’m grateful that I’m not spending the night alone, looking forward to the pistachio-flavored froyo sitting next to the awful tasting artificially sweetened mango sorbet instead. Lucy reappears with both, stopping by the utensil drawer to grab two spoons before joining me on the couch. She hands me my own pint-sized tub and settles close to me.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight,” I say, patting her thigh.

“Me too, Nat,” she says, clinking her spoon to mine, forcing a giggle to release from my lips.

43

Hayden

present

“I never thoughtI would see the day thatIwould be helpingyoucook Thanksgiving dinner,” my mom says over her shoulder as she retrieves the roasted brussels sprouts from the oven. I’m by the stove, mashing a large pot of boiled potatoes, making sure to get the perfect consistency of creamy and buttery.

“Well, believe it, Mama,” I call, straining against the potato masher in my hand.

“Is dinner almost ready?” Pat calls as he leisurely walks into the kitchen. An empty wineglass sits in his hand and a look of hunger is spread across his face, evident from the way he’s eyeing the turkey loosely covered in tinfoil on the kitchen island.

“You know,” my mom answers, “if you’re so hungry, you can help instead of asking every five minutes if dinner’s ready.”

Instead of actually helping, he turns to refill his wineglass. “I leave the cooking to you two,” he answers matter-of-factly.

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