I nod, sniffling. Rationally, I know she isn’t wrong. This is the same advice I would give her if the tables were turned. But my heart has other ideas.

“I’m sure he’ll call you. Just step back and trust me.” She hands me a glass. “Let’s get drunk. Do you want the jet to take you back tonight? I’m not so sure staying here is a good idea, considering.”

“All right then.”

I easily drink it down, as though it were water.

Three days have gone by since I came home. No one here knows I’m back, and I’ve taken full advantage of that fact. And by full advantage, I mean, not leaving my beautiful white four-poster bed unless it’s to use the bathroom or open the door for the delivery guy, who has already come twice, bringing cartons of cookie dough ice cream. Binge-eating and watching a Netflix series, I alternate between missing Slade, wanting to punch Slade, and crying.

Eve has called a few times, but I haven’t answered. I’m just not sure I’m ready to hear from her. Everything that happened between Slade and me is still so fresh. Painful memories mixed with the best days of my life. Nothing of what happened has been digested. Instead, it’s all still sitting in my gut, weighing me down.

I open my phone, scrolling through my calendar when I groan. Sanam’s wedding is this Saturday. I crawl to the edge of my bed to get a look inside my closet. My blush-toned gown hangs inside, pressed and ready. My shoes are still in the box and should add an extra five inches to my five-foot-three height. Sanam sent me photos of how she wants my hair and makeup to be done, and my appointments are all scheduled. Nothing to do now but let my life unfold. I look down at my stomach and know I’ve got to get my shit together if I’m going to fit into my dress.

I do the unthinkable and call Jonathan, letting him know I’m back early and ready to come in. He’s ecstatic over the phone. Next, I let my parents know I’m back. They’re amazingly supportive, glad to hear I decided to return early and asking me to come over for dinner tonight. I look and feel like shit, but it’s time I get my ass into the shower and put some clothes on. Getting clean and dressed in something other than sweatpants will help.

My mind doesn’t leave Slade, but I hold fast to Eve’s earlier advice. He needs to find himself and get better before a woman can enter his life. I trust Vincent and Eve have his best interests at heart. Slade will be okay.

In the bathroom, I paint my face full of makeup. Drying tears with a small piece of toilet paper, I coat on each layer in the same way I’ve done for years. I don’t know who I am, but this is how Lauren dresses. This is how Lauren makes herself up. The soft, natural face with minimal makeup and flat shoes of Nevada are officially behind me.