Page 114 of A Vine Mess
“So you’re going to leave without giving him a chance to explain,” Chloe said.
“I love him,” I wailed, angrily swiping at my eyes. “And he fuckingcheated. I’m not fucking doing this again.”
The reminder that I’d done this kind of breakup once before was a bucket of ice water over my head, and I rose to my feet, stripping off my dress and rolling it into a tight ball. I dug through my duffels until I found some comfy clothes I could wear to travel in.
The problem was…then, it hadn’t meant nearly as much as it did now.
“What’re you doing?” Brie asked.
“Packing,” I said, first heading into the bathroom where I unceremoniously swept all of my toiletries into a plastic bag and tied the handles, not even bothering to find the case. Then I stomped around the suite, haphazardly tossing the rest of my shit in my canvas duffels, leaving anything that was replaceable.
Allof it was replaceable.
Apparently, even me.
God, when would I ever learn?
Certain relationships could change you.
Being with Alfie changed me in a negative way. He brought out all of my worst qualities and exacerbated them until I became unrecognizable to even myself. I became small, weak-willed, a welcome mat for him to step all over.
But being with Liam?
With Liam, I was...me.
The girl who loved pulling over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Wyoming to drop seeds that would hopefully lead to pretty wildflowers sprouting up at the edge of an endless field.
The girl who wore ultra-feminine dresses and floppy sun hats because they made her feel pretty.
The girl who loved a man because he deserved it, not because he'd guilted her into it.
And damn, did I love William Danvers.
I loved him for all the small things, like how he didn’t feel compelled to fill silences with idle chit chat. How he quickly learned my coffee order and got it for me every time we managed to stop for the night in a town with a cafe. How he walked behind me on our first hike in South Dakota, content to move at my pace, never making me feel like a burden for our slow progress because he was more worried about my safety and enjoyment than his own.
And I loved him for the big things too. The way he allowed me to come on this road trip, offering a hand to me when he saw I was struggling. The way he never belittled my dreams when I was brave enough to voice them. How he made me brave enough to voice them. The way he held me in his arms until my anxiety calmed that first night in the tent.
I loved the way he said my name like it was something to be savored. How, after the last of our physical walls fell, he was comfortable enough with me to initiate passing contact, like reaching over the center console in the van for my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. The gentle kisses he pressed to the hair at my temples when we stood side by side inline at a store or waiting to be seated at a restaurant.
How he made love to me, worshiping me like I was the goddess he prayed to every night—like loving me was his religion, and my body his church.
And the thing I loved most?
That he loved me for me, jagged edges, thorns, sharp words and all.
I was heading back to Michigan differently than the woman who’d embarked on this journey. I had changed, for the better, and it was all thanks to him.
It was just a shame we weren’t going back together. That he’d taken something so beautiful. So pure and perfect and rare and magical…and shit on it.
My sisters were silent while I packed, but just as I drew the zipper closed on the final duffel, two things happened at once.
First, Amara said, “Your car and flight are booked. Be downstairs waiting in ten minutes to head to the airport. Your itinerary is in your email.”
I relaxed a fraction. “Thank you, Mar.”
But as soon as I finished speaking, the door flew open, and Liam rushed inside.
Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought.
