“You sure you’re okay?” Missy asks, pinching the stem of her champagne flute.
“I’m more than okay. I’m happy for you.” I manage to smile, which relaxes her some.
I am happy for her. Seeing my baby sister try on wedding dresses brings tears to my eyes. As Mila pointed out, I can be happy for Missy while also being disappointed for myself. But I’m not showing that today.
Nope, today is all about Missy finding a dress style she adores. When she comes out of the dressing room clad in a strapless gown complete with a sweetheart neck and a big, princess skirt, my breath catches in my throat.
“You look perfect,” I tell her.
She beams, twirling, as Mom claps her hands. “Put that one aside, Mis. You’ll want to try it on again.”
Missy admires herself for a moment in the floor-to-ceiling mirror as the sales ladies and two of Missy’s friends gather around her.
Next to me, Mom sighs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You’re not happy.”
I cringe at the callout, my mouth dropping open. “I’m not—”
“I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” Mom cuts me off. She gives me a long, searching look. “You and I always approached things differently, you know.”
I nod at the truth in her statement. I’m a nonconfrontational people pleaser and Mom’s an assertive perfectionist.
“And I know sometimes, I’m hard on you,” she adds, taking a sip of her champagne. “But all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be truly happy. For you to see yourself the way other people do. The way I do.”
“What?” I murmur, her words hitting me in my emotional feels. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes.
“Oh, Maisy.” Mom reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Watching Missy try on dresses is making me sappy.” She laughs before looking at me. “That man cares about you.”
“Axel?”
Mom nods. “I knew it the second I met him. The past few months, you’ve seemed happier too. Brighter, as if you’re glowing with life. I don’t know what happened between y’all but I can tell you, as your mother, that it’s worth diving into. Love is always worth diving into.” She brushes a wayward strand of hair over my shoulder. “It was wrong of me to harp on you. I thought if you didn’t look or act a certain way, you wouldn’t land a good man. That’s the way my mama raised me, and I guess I repeated that cycle with you. But Axel, well, he’s certainly a man.”
I snort, caught off guard by my mom’s candor. I hope she continues.
“And he cares about you for exactly the woman you are. Bright, optimistic, with an overflowing heart.” Mom wipes her eye as I choke up from her kind words. “Don’t ever lose that, Mais. And dive back in.”
“Mom! What about this one?” Missy calls out, appearing in a new dress.
Mom gives me a soft smile, stroking my cheek once, before turning to Missy and responding in her usual, no-nonsense tone. “I love the neckline.”
I sit for a long moment, considering Mom’s words. Reveling in the affection and honesty she showed me. It’s not that I’ve never had heart-to-hearts with my mom before, it’s that they’re rare. They occur eons between frequent judgement and criticism. But I’ve never doubted that deep down, she loves me and wants me to succeed. To fall in love and be happy. Dive back in.
Can I? After everything I’ve been through with Tim and Josh, can I give Axel the benefit of the doubt? I don’t doubt his intentions, but his actions, coupled with words, never felt solid enough. By cutting things off, am I ending it too soon? Am I denying us both a chance at true happiness by not taking the risk with him?
Mom leaves me with much to consider. The past week, since Axel and I quietly broke up, has been awful. I’ve spent nights crying myself to sleep, mornings pep-talking myself to drive to work, and afternoons nibbling on doughnuts. I’ve lamented my poor taste in men to Mila who quickly pointed out that Axel doesn’t fit the description.
He doesn’t. He’s incredible.
Somehow, knowing that makes it worse. I miss him. The scent of his cologne, the randomness of his text messages, seeing him at work. I miss listening to the gravelly pitch of his voice. I dream about the feel of his heavy hand stroking my back and the half-smile, still a mystery, he flashes my way.
I gulp my champagne, polishing it off and placing the flute on the table beside me.
Fuck. I’m in love with Axel Daire. I have been since the beginning. Deep down, I’ve known it since the wine and paint date.
By letting him go, it’s like I’ve stabbed myself in the heart. Everything aches and seems hopeless without him, without the possibility of an us.
My pep talks fall flat. My manifesting doesn’t inspire. My heart feels too heavy for my body and my head, too tired for life.
I’ve never felt like this before. Empty and emotionally depleted. Hurting from my core outward. It’s as if my very essence has withered away.
Is this true heartache? Every breakup I’ve had in the past pales in comparison. Axel and I only shared a few months together and now, my life feels different, lacking, without him.
I wick a tear off my cheek.
I’m in love with Axel Daire and I turned him away.
By doing so, I broke us both.
“Go away. It’s Sunday,” I remind Mila when she bounds into my bedroom the following morning.
“It’s almost noon.” Disappointment is heavy in her tone. I ignore it.
“I’m taking my key back.”
She laughs.
“I’m emotionally hungover.” I crack an eye open.
Mila wrinkles her nose. “When was the last time you showered?”
I close my eye.
“I came to give you a heads-up.” She plops down on the end of my bed.
“For what?”
“Seeing your sad state, I’m relieved I came by.”
“Mila,” I warn, wanting to know what the hell is going on.
“Axel will be dropping by your house in an hour.”
“What?” I jackknife straight up in my bed.
Mila grins evilly. “If you don’t want to look like a hungover—”
“It’s emotional,” I remind her.
“Hot mess, then get your ass in the shower.” She points to my bathroom.
“Why is he coming?”
My best friend runs an imaginary zipper over her lips and tosses me the key. The same way she did in high school.
“You’re the worst,” I huff, but excitement blooms in my chest and I force myself out of bed.
“I’m the fucking best,” she refutes. “Otherwise, I would have let him see you like this.” She gestures to my frame, clad in an oversize UT hoodie and cheetah-print boy shorts.
I laugh, the sound surprising me because…how long has it been since I laughed. Okay, dramatic much?
“Go shower!” Mila yells, pointing at the bathroom door again. “And I’ll try to pick out some casually chic outfits for you.”
“Thank you! You’re the best. I mean it!” I call over my shoulder, hurrying to the bathroom.
The second the hot water hits, I spring into action. Axel is coming here. Why? He must want to talk.
Does he want to get back together? Does he think we can salvage our relationship? Does he think we have a chance at a future?
Now that I’ve acknowledged to myself that I love him, am in love with him, his visit feels like the most significant moment of my life.
Whatever he says will determine my future.
And I know, deep down, that I want to build one with him.