Chapter Forty-Seven

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Lily

"Honey, I'm home!" I screech as I stumble into the apartment. One of the shopping bags gets caught in the door handle, and I catapult into the foyer. I land on my hands and knees. Luckily, nothing hurts and I'm not bleeding anywhere, but I erupt into laughter and haul myself to my feet.

I may or may not have had an entire bottle of champagne at the bridal boutique, but to be fair I was celebrating the wonderful news of Catherine's pregnancy. It was such a shock to all of us, we were frozen for a good ten minutes before everyone busted into happy tears and tackled her into a hug, but not too tightly or we'd hurt the baby. She frantically apologized to Delia for stealing the spotlight, but Delia didn't mind and we all went shopping afterwards to celebrate. But not before Delia, Riley, and I drank off two champagne bottles and ate all the macarons we could get our hands on, on Catherine's behalf of course.

I can't believe Catherine is having a baby. She thought she wouldn't be able to have any more kids after Theo. It was difficult to have him, let alone another one a few years later. But it's happening. She has a baby in her stomach and he/or she will be out into the world in seven months. I want to tell Blue all about it and show him the bridesmaids dress we all agreed on getting. And how delicious the macarons were. And how bubbly the champagne was. And I want to know all about his day out with his father. Did he have a good time? Did they get into a fight? Or did they work through their differences and want to see more sports games together?

What will change if they are cordial and all made up? Will we go over to their house more often? Will he want to fix his relationship with his brother as well? I try to imagine Blue begging me to go over to his father's house, wanting to simply spend the day with him and entertain his little brother Theo, and I like the image in my head. He's happier, lighter, less angry and suffering with less demons. But will I ever get the dystopia world in my head, where we have brunches with his family and go to the park in spring for a spontaneous picnic? Or am I so belligerently drunk I'm fooling myself into thinking the impossible?

"Blue?" I call out and walk down the hallway into the bedroom. The last time we texted, I was showing him a pair of sparkly shoes I was getting with the dress, and he'd responded with a thumbs up. That text should have shown me how strained he's feeling, but it just sent me into a frenzy sending him picture upon picture of me in dresses and blurry shots of macarons. I wonder if he could tell I'm drunk...

"Blue?" I sing-song his name, opening the bedroom door. He isn't in here. He's not in the closet either, or in the small closet in the hallway, or in the bathroom, or in our makeshift dining room. I even get on my knees and search under the couch, but he isn't here. I want him here now, but I'm willing to wait and tell him all about my day.

In the meantime, I put away the clothes I bought impulsively and carefully hang the bridesmaid dress in the back of the closet. While I'm in here, I strip down to my underwear and pull on one of his sweater hoodies. I fold and put away his usual mess of clothes strewn across the carpeted closet. I spread the bed and carry the pillows and a blanket from the hallway closet into the living room and turn on How to Get Away with Murder. Even though we made a pact to only watch the show together, I'm in the mood to get caught up in the whirlwind of lies and drama and betrayal. I'll just rewind back to where we left off and pretend I didn't watch ahead without him.

I watch two episodes and am close to another plot twist in the middle of a third, when the door opens and closes. I fumble for the remote and hit pause. "I didn't watch anything!" are the first words that tumble out of my mouth, but he doesn't even care. Blue storms right past me and into the bedroom without saying a word. I listen to his shoes hit the wall with a thud and curse at nothing but himself. I have a feeling he's not upset at my treachery but something that has to do with his dad... I gather the almost non-existent sobriety hiding within me and walk into the bedroom.

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