Desperate Chances
Page 6

So I worked my jobs. I went to therapy. I didn’t drink and I ate all my meals. I was healing inside and out.
That didn’t mean I had filled the giant hole in my chest where my almost happily ever after had been.
Sophie had been smart. She grabbed ahold of Mitch and hadn’t let go. I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn’t fault her for being the better woman. She hadn’t hurt him.
That honor resided solely with me.
“Oh, she was there too.” Vivian made a face.
“What’s the face for? Sophie seems… nice.” Nice like rusty tacks underneath my fingernails.
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s nice. She’s just so boring, G. And you and I both know who our boy Mitch should be with.” She waggled her eyebrows in my direction and I sighed.
It was a familiar argument. Vivian would tell me to stop being a stubborn ass and fight for my man, and I would have to remind her that I had broken his heart and he’d never forgive me.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
All because I had admitted, in a moment of weakness, how deep my feelings for the Generation Rejects’ bassist went. Now my good friend and roommate was like a dog with a bone. She meant well, but I sort of wanted to shake her.
Vivian just didn’t understand that not everyone was cut for the claws out, hair-ripping kind of love she had with Cole. I wasn’t the sort to smack another girl in the mouth for looking at my man.
And I wouldn’t fight for something that was never mine to begin with. I cared about Mitch too much to ruin his current, healthy relationship just so I could find my happiness.
His happiness was more important. Damn, I had become selfless in my old age. Maturity felt a bit on the shitty side.
And love kind of sucked.
Vivian threw a pillow at me. “You’re such a goddamned martyr. I guarantee if I told Mitchiepoo how you really felt—”
“Don’t you dare!” I yelled, getting to my feet. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. And push them she did. Whenever possible. At really inopportune moments.
“Don’t you ever tell Mitch anything! I’ve put him through enough with all of my bullshit! If you ever say anything to him, Vivian, our friendship will be over! I swear it!”
Vivian’s eyes widened and she held her hands up. “Whoa, G, chill out.”
I took a deep breath and sat back down, a little embarrassed by my outburst. Vivian grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her eyes soft.
“You know I wouldn’t say anything. I just want you to be happy. I want him happy too. I love you both.”
“Mitch is happy, Viv,” I argued.
Vivian gave me a strange look. “Is he? Are you sure about that?”
I didn’t want to think about what she was insinuating. Hope had to take a backseat to realism. My heart couldn’t handle anything else.
Vivian was looking at me with her eagle eyes and I stared back at her blankly. Give her nothing!
After a few minutes Viv sighed, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t peppering her with a million questions. “Yeah, well anyway, the whole crew was there, except you of course, because you had that thing to go to,” she said sarcastically.
We both knew my thing had involved me, our couch, and a whole lot of girlie movies.
And we both knew I was simply avoiding an awkward situation. Even though they were all my friends and I knew they’d want me there, I felt oddly out of place. Now that I didn’t have Mitch at my side, I wasn’t so sure how I fit in.
I was the poor single gal hanging with all of her coupled up friends. I’d be the loser sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on her phone while her buddies were gettin’ it on.
No thank you.
“Yeah, well you know how things go,” I replied, shrugging.
“You know, one day you’re going to have to talk to him. I hate that there’s this big giant ball of weird whenever the two of you are in the same room. It’s uncomfortable. And uncomfortable makes my skin itch. I don’t want itchy skin. So maybe you should do something about that,” Vivian suggested.
“God forbid you have itchy skin,” I deadpanned.
“Just talk to him. Get back to that annoying Mitch and Gracie place where we can all talk behind your back about how you need to bang as you look at each other wistfully while pretending you aren’t madly in love.”
Sometimes Vivian really overstepped the line. And sometimes she was so on the money it was scary.
But I’d never, in a million years, tell her that. Her ego was out of control as it was.
I shook my head. “He hates me. End of discussion.”
“He hates you like I hate my Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator,” Vivian chastised.
And everyone knew how much Vivian loved her Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator. They had a special thing going on.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I muttered.
Vivian put her phone down again and ignored it when it dinged. She must be about to say something profound if she was ignoring Cole’s dick pic.
“Gracie, I love you. I’ve seen you at your best and I’ve seen you at your worst. And I’d prefer to see either of those than this person you’ve been for the past year.”
I grimaced. “Thanks a lot. I thought I was kicking some ass,” I huffed, trying to make light of her very serious statement. But her words hurt. A lot.
“Do you define kicking ass as days consumed with working and bad TV while pining for a man that you love? Because I think you need to work on re-defining ass kicking.”