Page 37 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
I trudged up the street and tried to shake off the disappointment and the ridiculous hopelessness of it all.
It felt like a sick joke. A jester dangling a carrot in front of my nose only to yank it away, laughing and taunting,Ha ha ha, you can’t have it.
My boots left tread marks in the slush, blackened from exhaust fumes and pedestrians. Nothing ever stayed clean and pristine in this city, not even pure fallen snow.
“Why don’t you talk to Annika? I’m sure she’d understand.”
I stared at my mom like she’d suddenly grown three heads and was breathing fire. “And say what, exactly? Gabriel is my Notebook Boy, and he wrote songs about me and performed them while he was still with you?” I threw up my hands. “How do you think that would go over?”
“Gabrielis your Notebook Boy?” Annika screeched.
I froze. My stomach did a freefall and landed at my feet with a splat.
Where had she come from?
I stood motionless, too scared to turn around or to utter a single word, like it was a game of Statues and I’d lose if I moved a muscle.
Why, God, why hadn’t I kept my big mouth shut?
My mom greeted Annika with a smile, but Annika didn’t even notice. Her eyes were narrowed on me.
“I’m going to hop into a taxi,” my mom said, squeezing my arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Everything is going to be okay,” she assured me.
I wish I could believe her.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Annika said. “Tell me you would never keep something like that from me. Tell me!”
“I…” It was one thing to withhold the truth, but quite another to lie to her face. I swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I saton the edge of the sofa with a queasy stomach and wrung my hands while Annika paced the living room with quick, angry steps.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
“I had a shitty day and all I wanted to do was come home and talk to you, and then I overhear this? God.”
“What happened? Do you want to?—"
“None of this makes sense,” she said. “You never even knew his name. How did you know it was him? When did you figure it out?”
“I kind of…” I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to stop them from shaking. “I kind of knew from that first night?—"
“Oh my god.” She spun around and planted her fists on her hips. “You knew since August, and you never thought to tell me?” she shouted.
My throat tightened, and I forced the words out. “I didn’t know for sure.”
“You told your mom he wrote those songs about you. But he told me he wrote those songsyearsago,” she said. “Did you meet him before I introduced you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. He saw me from a window in a diner and wrote about it. That’s it. That’s all there was to it.”
“He wrote a bunch of fucking songs for you after seeing youonce? Wow.” She laughed harshly. “You must have madequitean impression.”
“I—”
“God, I’m so stupid. I kept pushing you together because I thought you didn’t like him. Turns out, you liked him a whole lot.” Her eyes narrowed to slits and she stabbed her finger at me. “Did you sleep with him? Were you sleeping with him this whole time?”
“What? No.” I stood up from the sofa and moved closer, holding up my hands as if to say I come in peace. “I would never do that to you. Never.”
