“I’m glad you’re working on your life, Aleck. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“You make me happy…” he whispers.

But I stay silent. We’re ending on a pleasant note. I should be pleased that I told him the truth. That we aren’t fighting and angry with each other. That didn’t feel right. This is better, healthier.

So then why do I feel so wretched?

“Goodnight, Winter.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, pulling my blankets to my nose like they’ll protect me from this pain. “Goodnight, Aleck.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Tears spill from my eyes uncontrollably, and this time I don’t fight them. I drop my phone, throwing my hands over my face, and cry. I cry until sleep takes me somewhere else. Somewhere where Aleck is still mine, and I have the courage to love him knowing he’ll never love me in return.

THIRTY-SIX

WINTER

ONE WEEK LATER…

Leaving Sephora with a bag in hand, I’m feeling pretty confident. I’ve got a new facial toner, some new liquid eyeliner. Which kind of scares me, but I’m a grown ass woman. YOLO. And I bought a new red lipstick. It’s a slightly deeper red than I’m used to, but hey, cheers to rebirth.

Tonight’s the night, and I’m feeling pretty pumped. Okay, I’m feeling moderately pumped. No bullshit, I’m feeling trapped and annoyed—I don’t want to go. There, I said it. I promised my friends one last week to wallow in my heartache over Aleck, and that week has passed. It’s Friday and we’ve decided—well, three out of four of us have decided—to go to our old spot for karaoke night.

“You just need to sing away the pain. Then go home with a decently attractive man and fuck the memory of Aleck out of your system,” Dottie suggested.

But they don’t know Aleck, not like I do. They don’t know how good he is. How the feeling of his hands on my body felt so delectable it’s lingered, even now after all this time. There will be no fucking him out of my system, not in this lifetime. He’s the man that fucks any and everything out of your system, not the other way around.

So, I know what’s going to happen: my friends will get me out and try to push me off into the arms of others. Many others. And I’ll protest and declare my hatred for the male gender, until I call an Uber to lone-wolf-it home. We’ve circled around to the beginning, before the wedding, before meeting Aleck. I’m back at square one. The most depressing place I’ve ever been.

They’re picking me up in an hour so we can make happy hour, which doesn’t leave me much time. So I scurry into the shower, washing all my major parts, then get out and dry off. Letting my hair out of its claw clip, I spray it down with a healthy dose of dry shampoo, then let it lay in waves over my shoulders. Using my new makeup, I slap on my war paint, then head to my closet to choose an outfit.