I didn’t know who the fuck I thought I was kidding. I was miserable. I hated being alone I’d realized, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but there it was. I was never alone. Alone was when my crazy blossomed into full-blown insanity — the curse of being a talker. If I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t figure it out. Half the time I didn’t even know how I felt until I said it out loud, and right now, I had no one. Ramona was on her honeymoon getting banged senseless. Veronica was busy doing God knew what.
Trust me, I knew I should have answered Bodie’s texts, called him back, and it was exactly what I wanted to do. But I was working hard to spare us both from having to deal with my psychosis. My solitary confinement was an attempt to decontaminate, an attempt to get my bearings so I could find my way back to him.
Problem was, my grand plan had backfired — the distance had made the crazy worse.
I’d made up an excuse not to see him that next day, once I’d gathered my wits and stopped trying to force my way into his apartment. I’d decided to take one day to think and separate and unscramble my brain. So I’d stripped and dyed my hair — this time, a pastel blue. I’d painted my nails. I’d taken a bubble bath and read an entire book. I’d cleaned my room. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, I had thought about Bodie and how much I’d rather be with him than at home.
I’d been certain I’d wake up the next morning feeling right as rain.
No such luck.
And I’d found myself at a loss.
He’d texted me the day after, and I’d blown him off again, citing work, which wasn’t a complete lie. He’d called me too, which I’d sent to voicemail like a coward. And then … then he quit messaging me altogether.
So I hadn’t gotten in touch with him. But he hadn’t gotten in touch with me either.
I tried to pretend like that didn’t break my heart.
I didn’t even know if we were good anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I’d made him mad — I’d pushed him away, and if the tables were turned, I’d be pissed too. Or maybe he was just playing defense on whatever he thought I was playing with him.
What if I never heard from him again?
Part of me — a big part of me — almost called him at that question alone. But what would I say about the last few days? Should I say I’d been busy? Should I tell him I’d been feeling things and risk his reaction?
What if he didn’t want me like I wanted him? And what if he did? Could I be with him in the real way? Could I give him what he wanted, what he deserved?
I didn’t even know anymore, but I’d had a lot of time to think about it.
If it were any other guy at any other time in my life, I’d have called on my little black book for comfort, but I’d rather have shaved with a rusty razor and risked tetanus. The thought of being with anyone else, even calling anyone else, made me feel sticky and gross.
That was its own bad sign.
Of course, the problem wasn’t even really a problem. I wanted to be Bodie’s girlfriend, but (A) I was crazy, and (B) I couldn’t seem to find a way to admit that out loud to him.
Space was supposed to make me feel better.
Wrong.
And now it was all topped by anxiety that I’d fucked up.
I’d blown my dream guy off. And why?
Peggy. That’s why.
Ramona floated into the shop, tanned and glowing and smiling as she said hello to everyone. I practically shot across the room and scooped her into a hug.
“You’re back!” I cheered, nuzzling her like a puppy. “I missed you.”
She laughed. “I missed you too. Look at your hair!” she said when she leaned back.
I smoothed it, smiling. “You like it?”
“I do. Does that mean …”
My brow quirked. “It means it felt like it was time for a change.”
“Right.” Ramona didn’t stop assessing me, but she changed the subject. I thought at least. “How’s everything going?”
“Fine, who cares, whatever! Tell me about your honeymoon!”
She laughed. “You act like we haven’t talked every day since I left.”
“I can’t help it; I’m codependent.” I hooked my arm in hers to walk back to my station. “Did you let him stick it in your butt?”
That one got a cackle out of her. “It’s like the one time I can’t refuse.”
“That, and his birthday.”
“Fortunately, he’s a gentle lover when it comes to ringing at the back door. Like maybe the only time he’s gentle.”
“Psh, lucky.”
She squeezed me. “I missed you.”
I squeezed her back. “You already said that.”
“Well, it deserved saying twice. Now tell me what’s been going on around here. You know all about Tahiti and honeymoon anal, so spill the deal.”
“So,” I said as we passed Veronica’s station, “Ronnie is acting super weird. She’s had plans.”
Ramona’s face quirked, and she looked around me to Veronica, who waved excitedly but was in the middle of a piece and couldn’t get up.
“Weird,” Ramona said quietly. “Maybe she’s seeing someone.”
“Maybe. I can’t exactly blame her for not telling me either. I’d charbroil her for information. Fricasseed.”
Ramona giggled, and we rounded my wall. She took a seat in my chair, and I sat on my saddle stool, so relieved to see her.
“So,” Ramona started, “how’s Bodie?”
My nose wrinkled. “We haven’t really talked much since the wedding.”
Her brows dropped. “Why not?”
I shifted to lean on my desk. “Because I’m a mess, and I ruin things.”
She didn’t answer, which forced me to keep talking. That asshole.
“I dunno, Ramona. I don’t know what I’m doing. He got busy with work, so I didn’t see him for a couple of days, and I bugged out. Like butthurt and needy and demented. I just figured a little space would do me good.”
“Has it?”
I groaned. “No. I mean, yes. But no.”
She sighed and gave me a loving look. “Just call him, Penny.”
“But I’m unhinged! I don’t do alone. I’m codependent and psychotic, and this is why I don’t have boyfriends. You know this!”
“I know this. You’ve just got to get over it.”
I laughed. “That’s cute, Mona.”
“I’m serious. You can’t go dying your hair and then find a new guy every time things get hard.”
I made a face at her. “That’s not why I—”
“Liar! You wigged out, so you wigged out.” She motioned to my hair. “Your hair is like a mood ring. Do you know how he feels?”
I inspected my cuticles. “Not really. I mean, I think I do, but I’m not sure.”
“So talk to him, Pen. Be a grown up and call him and talk to him.”
“Maybe I’ve already screwed it up.”
“Or maybe you’ll call him and everything will be fine. Because he’s into you. I have a feeling he’s wigging out too. Hopefully he didn’t shave his head or something.”
I laughed and ran a hand over my hair, feeling insecure about it now that I’d been called out. “Do you really think it’s that easy?”
“I really do. I mean, even if he doesn’t want to be with you, that would be better than this, right? Because then you could just try to get over it.”
I sighed. “Yeah.” And then I thought about calling him. I thought about seeing him smile. I thought about just being with him, like it had been before Peggy came around, blowing cigarette smoke in my face. “I don’t know how to get back to the happy place, Ramona.”
“Tell him how you feel, and let him tell you how he feels. Once you talk about that, you’ll both feel better. And instead of having to text Ronnie BEAR TRAP, you can talk to him about it.”