Page 6 of Finally Loved

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. If you’re supposed to be somewhere or meeting someone—”

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” she insisted, pulling her phone out to text her cousin that she was caught up with something important and would be late.

“I really would be fine—”

Alba waved her phone in the air before sliding it back into her pocket. “All taken care of.”

The woman watched her like she’d just pulled a rabbit from thin air, as though she’d done something so magical and spectacular and confusing that it didn’t make any sense at all. Whoever the woman was who’d broken up with her, she’d clearly not been doing a very thorough job of making her feel important even before the breakup. It was Alba’s experience that those who became overwhelmed by kindness were those who thought the people in their lives were kind, but really, they’d just been the kind ones all along and they’d gotten used to putting up withless-than-mediocre treatment, believing it was the best that they deserved.

She held a hand out to the woman, noticing again how the sunlight caught in her unusually colored hair. It really was quite mesmerizingly beautiful.

The woman took a deep breath and avoided Alba’s gaze as she accepted the hand up from the wall.

“No judging my car. The stuff in the backseat is for work. It’s usually a lot tidier.”

She looked up at Alba in confusion. “I don’t think I’m in any position to be judging anyone today.”

“Being sad doesn’t remove your right to experience other emotions. People do loads of things heartbroken, and that’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Come on. I’ll race you.” And Alba took off running, still holding the woman’s hand, before she could start spiraling on the emotions she was and wasn’t supposed to be feeling.

The startled sound that became a confused laugh as she caught up with what was happening told Alba her efforts were working.

Chapter 3

Neve groaned. She’d been asleep on the couch for hours, and, while it was a pretty nice couch, it did not lend itself to extended periods of sleep.

She fumbled for her phone, still tucked inside her coat pocket—a coat she’d wrestled herself out of and dropped on the floor in front of the couch. It would be embarrassing if her roommates found her like this.

It would also be embarrassing because they were a couple and Neve, suddenly… wasn’t.

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She couldn’t keep crying about it. Well, she could, but she didn’t want to. Part of her was angry with herself for being so upset over someone who broke up with her in a Best Buy. But, maybe—

She cut the thought off, finally waking her phone up and noticing the time. After midnight. That meant Alice and Charlie were probably home. It would be weird if they weren’t.They’d gotten home, likely hours ago, seen Neve on the couch, her things strewn haphazardly around her, and just left her there. They both knew she was supposed to be gone tonight, at Roxanne’s. Sense dictated that they’d have put the pieces together.

Put the pieces together and felt too sorry for her to even wake her up.Just let her sleep. She needs it.

Neve grimaced, burying her face in one of the couch cushions. As if the day hadn’t been embarrassing enough. Could it really get much worse? Dumped. In public. Rescued by a stranger who Neve then cried all over. Her bag still sitting in her ex-girlfriend’s car. Giving into sleep for the entire day. And, finally, being pitied by her best friends. Great. Wonderful day. She hoped tomorrow would be just as good.

She clambered inelegantly off the couch, feeling a headrush when she wrestled herself upright. It had been a long time since she’d slept that heavily in a bed let alone on a couch with other people coming and going.

The kitchen was dark, but the rest of the flat was quiet, so she slipped the light on, being careful not to make too much noise. It was already tomorrow. No longer the day Neve had been dumped. Despite how it felt, life went on and everything was okay. She didn’t need to start this day with the inevitable pity and questions and sympathetic but slightly judging looks.

She opened the fridge and found the pity anyway.

We made enchiladas. Help yourself to the rest.

Hope it helps xoxo

She knew they meant well, and she appreciated the gesture—Charlie’s enchiladas were to die for—it was just that sinking feeling that Neve was a child again. Couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t be in a relationship right, couldn’t do sex right, couldn’tbe an adult right. Would she forever be relegated to sitting home with pitying meals from a revolving door of flatmates who stopped here before moving on to their real lives?

She thought she’d done it, thought she was finally getting what everyone else got. Worst of all, she thought she’d finally been understood. Maybe you didn’t get understanding if you couldn’t meet everyone exactly where you were supposed to in a relationship?

She took the enchiladas from the fridge, debating whether microwaving them would make too much noise and deciding that she’d never once heard someone microwave food while she was sleeping, so it was likely fine. However, once she was watching them dance around the glowing microwave, she felt the weight weighing on her again. She didn’t want to believe the ridiculous, untrue talking points. She didn’t want them to be true. They probably weren’t true. She knew they weren’t true.

But sometimes they felt it.

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