It didn’t work the first time, but I never offered to pay someone.

Oh, right.

The payment.

I drop Wyatt two thousand dollars via Apple Pay; that seems like a fair amount for putting up with me for a week. But a few seconds later, my phone buzzes with the rejection of the money.

Are they serious?

I pay them again, and it bounces back once more.

I sigh, crawling out of bed and opening the bedroom door, ready to demand that they take the money. But when I look into the living room, it’s totally empty. Their suitcase is gone, their guitar, laptop, phone, charger, shoes.

They’re actually gone.

Everything except their suit, which is still bagged up, hanging in the coat closet.

They did it.

They left.

Isn’t that what I wanted? Wasn’t this the answer? The only way out?

I thought that getting them away from me would make things better, easier. I thought that it would stop my heart from hurting. But staring at the empty space that they occupied, knowing that they’re somewhere out there, maybe down in the lobby, or in an Uber on their way to the airport …

It hurts me.

*  *  *

I don’t go back down to dinner.

I can’t bear to be around everyone. I can’t stand the thought of talking to Lindsay, telling her what actually happened, what went on this week. Or looking at the pain on Mom’s face from the words that I said. The confusion from Josh. How I could be so cruel to him when all he wanted to do was love me?

I’ll apologize to Michael in the morning, ask him if I can skip out on the wedding, explain to him that he’ll need a new wedding singer for his first dance, apologize for all the trouble that I’ve caused.

I haven’t left the bed since I realized that Wyatt is actually gone.

I’ve opened my texts to them, drafted a few apologies, explanations, but none of it works, none of it fits. How could they ever forgive me for this? How could they ever forgive me for how I treated them before?

Even scrolling through old text messages, there’s nothing there but a silent contempt. Asking each other for notes, me telling them I’d be out late, them saying to be careful coming in because they’d just swept.

I’d tracked dirt in on purpose that day.

God, I’m an awful person.

Then I think about the last words Wyatt said to me.

This was never an act to me.

I keep replaying that moment again and again in my head. I was supposed to turn around, apologize then and there. We’d kiss and realize our feelings for each other and fall over each other getting back to the bed, still miss the rehearsal dinner.

But that wasn’t what I did.