Page 7 of Ashes of Us
"Anywhere that isn't here."
"This is insane," he said. "You're being insane."
I pushed past him. He grabbed my arm and I jerked away so hard I stumbled.
"Don't touch me."
"Piper, please?—"
I walked to the kitchen, grabbed my purse and my phone and my laptop. The duffel bag was cutting into my shoulder but I didn't care. I just needed to get out and breathe air that didn't smell like him.
Liam followed me to the door. "You can't just walk away from this. From us. What about the wedding?"
I stopped and turned around.
"What about it?" I asked.
"We have two hundred people coming. We have deposits. We have?—"
"Cancel it."
"Piper—"
"Or don't. I don't care. Marry Jenna if you want. I'm done."
I opened the door and walked out.
CHAPTER 4: PIPER
Ididn't remember deciding to drive to Maya's.
One moment I was pulling out of my apartment complex, and the next I was parked outside her building across town, staring up at the lit windows on the third floor. Her kitchen light was on, so she was home.
I sat there for a long moment, engine running, hands still gripping the steering wheel.
I could have called and warned her I was coming. But then she'd ask questions I didn't want to answer over the phone, and I'd probably start crying again, and I'd already cried enough for one day.
I grabbed my duffel bag from the back seat and headed inside.
The elevator took forever. I watched the numbers climb—1, 2, 3—and tried to figure out what I was going to say.Hey Maya, funny story, I caught Liam cheating and moved out, can I crash here?Probably too casual.Liam's been fucking someone else since March.Too blunt.
The doors opened.
I walked down the hall to 3C and knocked.
Maya opened the door in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that said FISCALLY IRRESPONSIBLE in glitter letters. She had a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other. Her eyes went from me to the duffel bag to my face.
"Oh shit," she said. "What did he do?"
And just like that, I started crying again.
"Okay. Okay, come here." Maya dropped her phone on the entry table and pulled me inside, wrapping her free arm around me. She still had the wine glass in her other hand, holding it away from my hair. "You're okay. Whatever it is, you're okay."
Except I wasn't okay. I was so far from okay I couldn't even see it from here.
But I let her hold me anyway, breathing in her familiar lavender shampoo and the faint smell of the Chinese takeout she'd probably had for dinner. After a minute, she steered me toward the couch and set her wine glass on the coffee table.
"Sit," she ordered. "I'm getting more wine."
