“And it’s also the reason you got thrown out of the visitation tonight. Get your shit together or you won’t be allowed at the funeral tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go to the funeral!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, making her flinch. “I don’t want there to be a funeral at all. Now, I’m serious. Get. The fuck. Out. Of my car.”
Through gritted teeth, she seethed, “You know what I’ll never understand? How you claim to be so in love with her, but in this entire conversation, I haven’t heard you say a single word that wasn’t about you. How this affects you. How this hurt you. Last time I checked, you aren’t the one being buried tomorrow.”
“I wish I were!”
“Fuck you! The world doesn’t revolve around Quarry Page!” With that, she jumped out and slammed the door.
I didn’t even wait for her to make it to the sidewalk before I was peeling out of the parking lot.
Fuck her.
Who the fuck is she to say that shit to me?
Had she forgotten that Mia had lied to her too?
What about how many times she’d begged Mia’s parents to give it a few more days before taking her off life support? No. That must have somehow magically slipped her goddamn mind.
None of it was about me. It was all about Mia and the absolute hell she’d chosen to put us through.
How dare Liv try to act like I was the one being selfish? God forbid I’d wanted to know that my girlfriend was dying. Or, better yet, have a chance to fight to keep her alive.
That doesn’t make me selfish.
It makes me a man.
I could barely contain my anger as I whipped my car around and headed back toward her apartment. I had every intention of stomping up those stairs and telling her just what I thought about the bullshit she’d been spewing, but the moment I slammed my car into park, my temper disappeared.
Liv was crumpled over at the foot of the stairwell. Her arms were looped around her legs, her face buried in her knees. As I opened the car door, her loud cries sliced through me.
No. Liv hadn’t forgotten anything.
She was just doing a better job at masking it than I was.
After jogging over, I lifted her off the ground and cradled her in my arms.
“I c-can’t go in there,” she stuttered through sobs. “She’s supposed to be in there.”
“Shh,” I whispered into her hair. “I know.”
“I can’t do this. Please just tell me she’ll be here when I wake up tomorrow. Please,” she cried into my neck.
My heart sank. “I’d give anything to make that happen.”
“I…I…can’t stay in that apartment without her.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ve got you, Rocky. Let’s go home.”
She didn’t offer the first complaint as I settled her in the front seat or when I carried her up to my apartment after we arrived.
She didn’t actually say anything at all.
Lost in my own grief, I didn’t have much compassion to offer anyone.
But it was Liv.
I dredged up what little I could muster, knowing she’d have done the same for me—more, actually.
After snagging a blanket and a pillow off my couch, I placed her on the futon in my messy spare bedroom that doubled as a computer-slash-weight room. Then, using my laptop, I clicked on one of the playlists Mia had made, setting it to repeat before turning sleep mode off so the screen would stay lit all night. Once all of that had been set, I made a beeline out, ready to lock myself away in my own room and break down in private.
Just as I made it to the door, she called my name to catch my attention.
She stammered several times before giving up on her voice. Lifting her hands in the air, she signed, I’m mad at her too. Really fucking mad. I don’t want to read her letter, either. At least, not yet. But I swear I understand how you feel. I loved her too. You can’t forget that we’re both struggling here. You don’t get to be mad at me for how I’m handling this. And I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, either. I’m sorry.
Locking my fingers together, I rested them on the top of my head and sighed. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right. I’m a fucking mess right now. I just don’t know any other way to deal with all of this. I’ll get my shit together before the funeral tomorrow. I promise, okay?”
“Okay,” she squeaked back.
“Get some sleep.”
“Later, Q.”
The corner of my mouth tipped up a fraction of an inch as I stepped out, shutting the door. “Later, Rocky.”
One Year Later…
LIV NEVER WENT BACK TO her apartment. A few days after the funeral, her parents showed up at my place to get her. She all but lost her mind when her dad said that she wasn’t allowed to stay with me anymore. Liv didn’t bat her eyelashes at her father that day. Nor did she plaster on the sweet and cry crocodile tears until he caved to her demands. No. That night, she squared her shoulders, looked him directly in the eyes, and showed him the real Liv James.