SMOGGY TWILIGHT
"Shit! I gotta go," Travis says, hanging up on our video chat in a rush.
I could hear Trix yelling in the background, something about babyproofing the patio. I shake my head just thinking about baby Isla walking around the absolute fire hazard death trap that is Back Bay's back deck.
I spend the next twenty minutes sipping coffee on the shaded terrace, scrolling through socials to keep tabs on everyone I don't care about. Well, most at least. There's Alex posting a fire pic with Whit. Lauren's story has 100 more wedding ideas. Can't wait til those are done. Then the universe throws me Emmy's 30th birthday post, because of course.
She looks downright incredible and happy and nothing like the fourteen-year-old I first fell for. But also somehow the exact same. Josh is there too. And I hate to admit they're as great looking a couple in photos as they are in real life.
I force it all back into its perfectly upkept cage. By it all I mean the existential doubt and simultaneous desire and by cage I mean the spot in my mind where I send it to live forever.
Where I sent my dream sequence from last night.
Because so what if my entire life flashed through my subconscious last night? So what if things linger? Maybe they're meant to. Thoughts, feelings, hearts.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee.
"Hi babe," Cece sits down at the table beside me.
"Hey."
She's sipping her own coffee from the breakfast bar and staring at a plate of granola.
No sooner does she sit down do two twenty-something girls come up to her to chat. Cece is polite and agrees to take a selfie with them, but not too busy to notice my scoff.
"What?" She asks, peering at my innocently as the giggling girls walk away.
"Nothing."
"Obviously something." She narrows her eyes.
"Just forgot I can't even have coffee without being bothered." I shrug without looking at her.
"You were bothered?" Cece frowns.
"You know what I mean," I tell her.
"Since when are you made miserable by all of this?" Cece asks quietly, folding her arms.
"Since there's no escaping it."
"Well if it's just so horrible for you then I will take my breakfast elsewhere."
Cece stands abruptly from the table and lifts her plate of fruit with her purse. I turn to watch her leave, retracing her steps back beside the pool. I do feel bad, mainly because I know I'm picking a fight just to make myself feel better about my dream last night, but still.
...
It's our last night in Miami and I am fucking ready to get back to LA. This whole getaway felt forced somehow, like we were supposed to do it more than wanted to do it.
We had another shitty dinner with shittier people harassing us left and right and honestly Miami can kick it. I throw my sweatpants on and slip out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind me. I escape into my mind again, to the dream that keeps replaying in my head –the one that I've replayed all day. I know what I need to do to put the past behind me.
I look down at the paper pad in my hand –at the Star Resorts watermark –and write the first word: Emmy.
No 'Dear' or anything ridiculous since this isn't 1800 after all.
I'm stuck on the first word, not because I have nothing to say, but because I have too much to share. I stare over the railing at the swaying palm trees that border Star Resorts' beach line. It's a hazy night, smoggy in a tropical twilight kind of way.
I stare at the word. Emmy.
Here goes nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Never Really Over (Bremmy 3)
ChickLit*THREEQUEL* Even when they're done, all things are never really over. It's been one year since Emmy left for the airport, two tickets in hand. A long, eventful year. Brooks has successfully launched the flagship Edge and snagged a model girlfriend...
