Chloe CHAPTER 58 THE CLIFF

January 14

Something had changed over the past few months, slowly, first with Hongbo and then with my parents’ betrayals. Then because of my time with Drew. Something had changed in me. The first few buds had sprouted when I’d hired Drew, and a few leaves had grown at the Christmas Eve party, but now, with some time-induced clarity, I felt different, like I was on the verge of blooming.

I could no longer have the same relationship with my parents. I couldn’t be the version of myself I hated, not anymore. Not even if it was limited to my infrequent California visits. And especially not with the one person who truly cared about me.

I had to do better. I couldn’t live with myself if I chose my parents and full-blown Jing-Jing. As much as it made my stomach revolt, as much as it made me want to hide under the covers with a string-cheese-shaped xiǎo zhěntóu, I had to choose me. How could I expect anyone else to if I didn’t do it first?

I was finally ready to jump off the cliff.

I choose the life I want, not the one my parents want.

My palms pooled with sweat as I called him. To prevent the phone from slipping out of my grasp, I switched to speakerphone.

“Chloe, hi.”

The sound of his voice filled the hole he’d left in his absence.

“Drew…” I forgot all my words. “Hi.”

I wished I could see him.

“Hi,” he said again.

The awkwardness shouldn’t have been surprising, given how we’d left things, but it still caught me off guard. I’d worked through so much in the past two weeks I felt like a different person, but now I remembered that I still had to explain it all to him. And that he might not want to hear it.

Shit.

“Hi,” I repeated. The fourth one. “Um…”

I glanced at the notes I’d jotted down beforehand. It was dorky, but without them I had nothing.

“I’m calling because I wanted to tell you just how incredibly sorry I am, to my core, and also that I’ve had some revelations since we last spoke—”

“Oh shoot, I must’ve missed the script you sent. Is it okay if I don’t know my lines yet?”

My laugh was much higher-pitched than I would’ve liked, but I was also relieved he’d made a joke. But then the awkward silence returned.

I dropped the paper and started again, no prepared lines: “I’m really sorry I hurt you. It’s been killing me that I caused you pain, and all because I couldn’t be honest with myself or my parents. I—I don’t like who I’ve become. I’m ashamed I wasn’t there for you when that’s all you’ve done for me.”