“No, baby. I can’t do this again.” He lifts his chin, and his eyes are pained. “Don’t want to be that guy who makes promises he can’t keep. I’ve been that guy. There’s not enough of me to go around. And you’ll only end up hating me.”
His words are starting to sink in. It’s dawning on me that he’s serious about saying goodbye. I become unstuck from my spot on the walkway to my building and hurry to where he’s standing. “Matt. It’s not that bad, honey.” I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Come inside with me.”
He takes a step toward me and lifts a hand to my cheek. Yes! Then soft lips graze mine. I close my eyes and wait for the rest of the kiss.
But it doesn’t come. Cool air meets my face instead. He drops my hand and moves back. When I open my eyes, he’s heading toward the car.
“Don’t do this,” I say quickly. “It’s just been a shitty night. You didn’t call, and it freaked me out. So I said I was disappointed, but…”
“I’m sorry, Hailey,” he says, cutting me off. “You’re great. But I can’t do this again.”
Then the car door shuts.
And the car slides away.
The taillights disappear as I wonder what the hell just happened. I’m standing on the sidewalk like an idiot in the cold, and Matt is gone. The winter chill gets me moving, at least. Numb, I shuffle up to my door and let myself into the small front lobby, then ride the elevator upstairs to my apartment. Dropping my purse on the coffee table, I survey my lonely little apartment. In the bedroom, makeup is still strewn around from Jenny’s ministrations.
The conversation I had with her a few hours ago feels like another lifetime.
My phone is ringing in my purse, and I kick off my heels and run for it. I desperately need it to be Matt. That was stupid of me, he’ll say. I’ve snapped out of it and I’m standing outside your door right now.
The number isn’t one I recognize. But hope springs eternal, so I answer the phone.
“Hailey?” a female voice asks.
“Yes?”
“This is Katie Hewitt. From the WAGs?”
Of course I know who Katie Hewitt is. “Hi, Katie! Um, this is…” a really bad time.
“Oh, honey. Did he miss it?”
“Miss what?” I say, swallowing hard.
“Your awards ceremony! They had that awful delay with the jet in New York. At poker night in Philly, Matt said tonight was important to you, so I’ve been worrying about you all evening.”
“You…”—gulp—“were?”
“Oh, yeah. Always. We WAGs have to look out for each other. I’m sorry you didn’t have a date tonight.”
“Well, I probably could have gotten over that disappointment if Matt didn’t just dump me.”
“WHAT?”
“He said…” I sniffle. “He couldn’t do this again. That I’ll end up hating him.” Now I’m pouring out my heart to a stranger who’s known him longer than I have.
“Oh, Matt,” Katie tsks. “You idiot. TAXI!” There’s the sound of breaks screeching to a halt. “Yeah, take me to twelve-eighty Yonge Street.”
“Katie?” I say, confused. “That’s my address.”
“I know, sweetums. I’m coming to see you.”
“You are?”
“Of course! I told you WAGs have to stick together. Now go into the kitchen and tell me if you have any wine. Daiquiri mix is my usual go-to, but I realize this is an emergency.”
“Um…” I wander into my kitchen and open the freezer. “There’s, uh, two of those cans of frozen margarita mix. My friend Jenny left it here a while back.”
“Perfect. So I’ll get Estrella to bring a bottle of tequila.”
“Uh…”
“Be there in ten.” Click.
I spend the next eleven minutes panic cleaning—stacking mail and hiding my laundry pile. But at least there’s no time to think about Matt. I don’t know whether I want to stab him with a pencil or throw myself at his feet, weeping.
When the doorbell rings, I open it to find Katie and Estrella on the other side.
“Omigod!” Katie shrieks. “You look amazing!”
I look down, realizing I’m still wearing a fancy dress. “Thank you. I do need to change.”
“First we want to see this award!” Estrella says, gliding into the room. “So exciting. I’ve never won an award.”
“Well, it’s nothing. It’s just…” I look down at the coffee table where my purse is. No statue. “Oh, shit.”
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“I…” My award was on the seat of the taxi cab. I forgot to pick it up again when I got out. “I lost it.” And for some reason that’s the last straw. So I burst into tears.
“Oh!” Katie cries, running over to hug me. “Rough night, sweetie. They happen. Quick, Estrella! Margaritas!”
The other woman goes running into my kitchen.
“R-rough…n-night,” I echo, shaking. “The roughest I’ve had in a wh-while.”
“You’ll be okay.” She rocks me against her generous, sparkly bosom. “Next week we’ll all be celebrating in the WAGs box again. This too shall pass.”
I pull away. “I won’t be. He was pretty clear about that.” And I realize something awful. “Katie, you guys should be at home tonight. You haven’t seen your husband in eight days! Aren’t you missing out on some sexy times?”
She gives me a sweet smile. “Ben was so tired when he stumbled through the door that I just pointed at the sofa and brought him a pillow. After a three-game road trip, sometimes he needs to sleep it off before he can get me off.”
“Preach, sister,” Estrella says from my kitchen. “Luko staggered in the door as grumpy as an ogre. They landed at the wrong airport, you know.”
“What?”
“There was a signaling problem at Pearson, and the jet was diverted to Porter. Luckily our car wasn’t parked at Pearson.”
“Matt’s was,” I say slowly. “With his tux in it.”
“I thought of that,” Estrella answers, carrying two margaritas into my living room. She’d found my martini glasses. “Drink this. It’s medicinal. Scares off the dementors.”
“I thought that was chocolate,” I say, taking a glass.
“Pffft,” Estrella replies, handing one to Katie. “You can’t tell me those grownup witches and wizards weren’t hitting the hard stuff after a rough day with Voldemort.”
I smile for the first time since my fake smiles at the podium tonight. These women are awesome. I really am going to miss them.
There is a burst of rapid knocking on my door, and my heart lifts. But then the voice I hear from the other side is female. “Girls! My hands are full here!”
I lunge for the door, opening it to find Jess Canning on the other side. Her arms are full—there’s a bakery box in one hand and a bunch of roses in the other. “I come bearing cheesecake!” she announces. “And these are for you. Congratulations!”
“You didn’t have to…”
“The WAGs stick together,” Estrella says, trading Jess a margarita for the cheesecake.
“But I’m not a WAG,” I argue. “Though I really appreciate you guys tonight.”
“You are, though,” Katie says. “The way Matt looks at you? There is no chance it’s over.” She leaves the room, returning a moment later with my cake server. Which is a miracle, because I couldn’t have told you where that thing was. It’s been ages since I served a piece of cake to anyone.
“I’ll get the plates,” Jess offers, sipping her drink.