Love involves a peculiar, unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding.
–Diane Arbus
Gwen
By the time I touch down at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport, it’s dark outside. It’s only seven, though. I gained three hours on the five-hour flight from New York.
Sam and Gemma are waiting for me in the main terminal. I don’t have any luggage, just my purse, so after a hug, we bypass baggage claim and they walk with me in between them to the car.
They don’t ask questions or expect anything from me. They hustle me into the back seat, speaking in quiet voices the whole time like I’m some kind of mental patient.
But I don’t mind. It’s exactly what I need.
The flight was terrible. I spent most of it crying and drinking little bottles of wine while my fellow passengers leaned far, far away. I tried not to think about Marc or the fact that I blew my one opportunity to make a difference and follow my dreams.
My camera is in my purse, the one thing that might bring me comfort besides the numbing of the alcohol, but I can’t even bring myself to pull it out. It has all the pictures from my weekend with Marc and the thought makes me want to cry all over again.
When we get home, Mom is waiting with my favorite old sweats and one of Dad’s T-shirts. I change and she feeds me empanadas and then I crash hard in my old room, falling asleep to the sound of my mother whispering dulces sueños in my ear and kissing my forehead, just like she did when I was little.
When I wake up, the sun is shining and I feel about a thousand times better. So much better that I pull out my camera, but as soon as I see the first picture of Marc on the beach, laughing, head thrown back, his eyes crinkled at the corners, the stabbing pain in my chest nearly cripples me all over again.
“Too soon,” I mutter before shutting the damn thing off and putting it back in my purse.
“I think she’s awake,” a loud voice whispers from outside my door.
“Shut up, Gabby, you’re too freaking loud.”
“Oh, and that wasn’t loud? Why don’t you just shout at me?”
“I’m awake, guys,” I call out.
A second later, the door flings open and both of my sisters jump on the bed, one on either side. They hug me like I’m the meat in their sister sandwich and then snuggle down next to me on top of the comforter.
“I missed you,” Gabby says, kissing my forehead.
“I missed you guys, too.”
“I didn’t say I missed your punk ass,” Gemma says, but since she’s snuggled up to my other side, I don’t really believe her. “Are you ready to spill it? Everything this time and none of that bullshit you told me about dating Brent that was obviously a lie.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
And then I tell them all of it, from the night with Scarlett, to the photo shoot where I first met Brent and Marc, to Starlee’s phone call and offer to help with my career, to the time I spent with Marc and how beautiful he is and how he helps everyone and everything around him to his own detriment. I tell them about Thanksgiving and the ride home.
I tell them about how it grew into something intense and our one blissful weekend—leaving out some of the sexy details, but they get the drift.
Then I tell them about what happened when the article hit, and how I discovered Brent apparently was falling for me and everything that was said before I totally lost my shit.
“Marc wasn’t using you as a means to an end. He’s not Lucky,” Gemma says when I run out of words. “It sounds like maybe he was just talking in the heat of the moment.”
“I know. But . . . I can’t come between them like that. They’re very close. They only have each other since their mom died and their dad is a real piece of work.”
“What are you going to do now? Are you going to move home?”
“And give up everything I’ve been working for? Everything I crawled out of a hole to get back? No. I’m going to go back to New York and start over. Again. Or try to. Except now that I’m the focus of a celebrity sex scandal, it’s going to be even harder to get people to take me seriously. How can I fight this?”
Gabby rubs my arm. “You know we’ll help however we can.”
“I just need a little bit of time to recover. And maybe a whole tray of Mom’s chile rellenos.”
Gemma laughs. “We can make that happen. And there’s always a distraction available around here. We’re having a little get-together at the Londons’ tonight. You should come.”
“They’re having another party? What for this time?” Gabby asks.
“Sam’s parents are out of town, so his sister Lucy is housesitting. They’re having a girls’ night or something.”
I shrug. “If it will distract me from my train wreck of a life, I’m in.”