Page 68 of Love at First Sighting
For the first time since I’ve known her, Bex has a point. Idon’thave to put up with this, and Idon’thave to stay here. The Nest has never been my home and half of my things are still in storage. I have the finances to leave anytime I want. The Nest has been a roof over my head, but now it feels more like a hornets’ nest.
“You’re right.”
“I know I am.” Bex crosses her arms and looks to Lea, who is back to cyberbullying Cary Grant already.
“You’re right,” I repeat. “Idon’thave to be here. I can walk right out that door and say ‘fuck you’ to you both. I mostly mean it to you, Bex. Lea’s…Lea is fine.”
Lea’s ears and eyes perk up when she hears her name.
“Actually, I’m really not fine right now,” she sputters.
“And I’m leaving,” I say as I tip over the engraved silvergravy boat. Translucent brown meat juice pours across the white granite countertops and drips onto the floor. Adrenaline takes over, and before I can stop myself, or Bex can claw my eyes out, I dash. I slam the door, and begin to pack. Bex shouts British expletives at me through the wall and bangs on the door.
I want to be out of here as quickly as humanly possible, so I shove whatever I can into suitcases, boxes, and many, many purses. I don’t think about where I’m going to go. I think about taking down Content Corner and setting it up anywhere else. Anywhere is better than here.
Storming out of my influencer house is not going to be a good look for me, and it won’t help bolster the brand I’m slowly rehabilitating, but the idea of promoting smoothies I hate and scrunchies I don’t need and going back to how life was before all this began—I know for a fact I don’t want that.
I’m fine to leave behind my comforter, and the pillows and mattress weren’t mine in the first place. I’ll figure the rest out later, once I’m long gone from this eggshell-white hellhole. I can negotiate a time to come grab my remaining things. I fling the door back open and move my stuff out of my room. Of course, Bex is there.
“Have you gone off your rocker? We’ve been working on this sponsorship for weeks, and you fookin’ blow it because of some bloke?”
“It’s not because of him,” I assert.
The truth is, I’m not choosing Carter. I’m choosingme. I haven’t chosen myself in years. Maybe ever. Even when I was following my modeling ambitions or trying to climb the influencer ladder, I wasn’t doing it for myself. I was doing it for the clout, for the money, for the fame.
“It’s because of you and this stupid house. And these stupid facades you make us wear. Because I can’t be myself here or do whatever the hell I want. Sorry, Becca—”
“It’sBex!” she shouts.
“So you don’t like it when people call you the wrong name? Ain’t that something. My name isn’t Eloise and I’m getting out of here. Move out of my way.”
I haul box after box downstairs and into the back of my car. Bex rushes out the front door, with one lastfuck youfor the road.
“You know you can’t come back!”
“That is the point! Have a nice life and unfollow me.”
It takes until I hit Sunset for the adrenaline to die down and for the panic to set in. While seeing a UFO is one thing, having a meltdown while streaming, packing up my things, and moving out in the span of an hour? That’s bold.
That was bold and I am now effectively homeless.
I pull over on a quiet street in Beverly Hills and figure I should start calling hotels and finding a place I can stay short-term. As I unlock my phone, I hover over my text chain with Carter. Instead of the Beverly Hills Hotel, I call Carter.
It rings twice before he answers.
“Hey. I’m heading out, give me a second.” On the other end of the phone, I hear the sounds of computers and typing, doors shutting, before it quiets when he slides into his car. “Okay. Hi. How was your day?”
Then something strange happens.
I start to cry.
“El? El, what’s going on? Are you okay?” The concern in his voice makes it worse, because hecares. I know if he were here now, he’d be wiping my tears and I’d have my face buried inthe crisp fabric of his suit. I flash back to the night I first saw the UFO, when I feared for my life and didn’t have anyone to call. No one would have picked up and no one would have cared.
Now I know Carter will always pick up.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I…I kind of lost it on Bex.”
“It was about time!” I sniffle again and Carter pivots his tone. “Oh, okay, so we’renothappy about this?”
