Coming Home

As Leah was putting her clothes back on, her phone buzzed with an e-mail notification. She reached down and grabbed it, opening the message with one hand while she slipped her shoes back on with the other.

It was the delivery confirmation for the flowers she’d sent to Catherine.

She smiled, closing out of the message and tossing her phone back into her purse. Leah had been trying to think of something nice she could do for her ever since their visit, and that morning, she had noticed an advertisement for one of those national online flower distributors on her homepage. The arrangement on the ad was an elaborate display of daffodils in a beautiful embossed vase. She instantly thought of Catherine—how she seemed to have a thing for daffodils—and ordered the arrangement right before she left to meet Robyn and Holly at the boutique.

Once the girls were dressed, they went across the street to the little Mexican restaurant that Robyn loved, only to find her already seated at a table with a pitcher of margaritas and three glasses.

“I would totally propose right now if you weren’t already getting married,” Leah said as she sat at the table and poured herself a drink.

“Speaking of,” Holly said as she took the pitcher Leah handed her, “how’s the whole celibacy thing going?”

Robyn groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “I’m such an idiot. It sounded like such a good idea, you know? I mean, your wedding night is supposed to be this big, momentous event. What’s big and momentous about having sex with someone you’ve been sleeping with for eight years?”

“So why not just renege?” Holly asked, reaching for a chip and dunking it in the salsa.

“Because we’ve already made it this far. It’s only a couple more weeks. Besides, I’m so hard up at this point that any sex I get will be mind-blowing. Our wedding night is pretty much guaranteed to make me see stars.”

Holly lifted her glass. “Well, here’s to hoping you don’t hump his leg midway through the ceremony.”

They all cracked up, earning looks from the other patrons in the restaurant just as the faint sound of Leah’s phone pulled her attention from the revelry. She reached into her purse and pulled it out just enough to check the screen.

And then she scowled, sending the call to voice mail before tossing it back into her bag.

“What was that about?” Robyn asked, nodding toward Leah’s purse.

“Nothing,” she answered dismissively, reaching for the chips. She scooped up a heap of salsa and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, trying to ignore the fact that both girls were staring at her deliberately.

“Leah.”

“Ugh, fine,” she mumbled around her mouthful of food, reaching for her drink and taking a huge gulp to wash everything down before she said, “He’s calling again.”

“Scott?” both girls said in unison, their voices incredulous, and Leah nodded.

“Fuck that,” Holly said firmly. “Pick up the goddamn phone and tell him to go to hell.”

“When did this start again?” Robyn asked.

“Just before Christmas. So, like two weeks, I guess.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

Leah shook her head.

“What a douchebag,” Holly huffed, taking a sip of her margarita.

“Whatever. It’s not a big deal. I’m just go

“I just don’t get it,” Robyn said. “I mean, does he really think you’d take him back?”

Leah grimaced, looking down. This was the last thing she wanted to be talking about. Talking made her remember, and she hated remembering.

She’d been driving home from the hospital the night her father had his heart attack. Leah had cried the entire way, struggling to see through her swollen eyes and the tears that blurred her vision. She had almost lost him—and she knew she could still lose him. He was in critical condition, his prognosis uncertain, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how much time she had wasted. She was furious at herself. At her obstinate behavior.

And at that moment, she was furious at her boyfriend.

When she had called to tell him what happened to her father, he told her how sorry he was, but when she asked him to come to the hospital with her, he said he couldn’t—that his brother was out drinking with some friends, and he’d promised to be available to pick them up at the end of the night.

Scott had never really liked Leah’s family—he’d made it very clear in the almost three years they’d been together—so it was typical of him to come up with some excuse as to why he couldn’t spend time with them.

But this was different. And he should have recognized that.

He’d told her to keep him updated and that he’d check up on her later, but all she wanted was for him to be there with her. Supporting her.

Leah made an impulse decision, getting off the highway two exits early and heading toward his place instead of her own apartment. She wanted to tell him that he’d let her down.

But more than that, she just wanted to be held.

She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and press his lips into her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.

That she wasn’t a terrible person.

When he didn’t answer the door, Leah assumed he’d gone out to pick up his brother, so she used the key hidden in the outdoor sconce to let herself in.

As soon as she opened the door, she knew something was wrong.

She could hear music playing faintly—Dave Matthews Band crooning “Crush.” Leah took another step into the apartment, and her eye was immediately drawn to the coffee table, where there was a half-empty bottle of Shiraz.

With two wine glasses next to it.

A horrible, wrenching sensation knotted her stomach as she looked down the hallway toward his bedroom.

And that’s when she heard the muffled moan.

She had no idea why she even walked toward the door. She knew what she would find. But it was like some sadistic, unseen force had taken control of her body—her head screamed for her to leave as her legs continued to carry her toward his bedroom.

And then her hand was on the doorknob, turning it gently as she pushed it open.

The smell hit her in the face like a slap—scented candles and alcohol and sex—and she could see his bare back as he held his weight up in his arms, his hips moving steadily between the pedicured feet wrapped securely about his waist.

She stared at the image before her, everything taking on the fuzzy, surreal quality of a dream.

This wasn’t real. There was no way this could be happening.

He lifted his head then, whipping it over his shoulder and making eye contact with her. His movements slowed as he looked at her, his expression more confused than remorseful.

From below him, where a mess of red hair was splayed out over the pillow, Leah saw a hand reach up and turn his face, pulling him back down for a kiss.

It was as if the cord that had been tethering her in place suddenly snapped, and she stumbled backward, knocking over the lamp on the table behind her as she turned and ran out the door. She made it as far as the bottom of the stairs outside before she dropped to her knees and vomited.

Leah collapsed on the ground as she continued to gasp for air between coughs and sobs. Despite the fact that she couldn’t bear to be there a minute longer, after everything she’d been through that night, she didn’t have the strength to move.

He never even came out to find her.

She had no idea how long she sat there on the floor, but eventually Leah pulled herself up and stumbled to her car. She knew there was no way she could drive. She couldn’t even see. But she managed to call Robyn, and as soon as she answered, Leah broke into hysterics again, wailing unintelligibly into the phone. Somehow, Robyn was able piece together where she was, and it wasn’t long before Holly and Robyn were there, their arms wrapped around her as they kissed her head and rubbed her hair, telling her that everything was going to be okay.