My hand curled tighter around my phone. “Dad told me to get out, and I didn’t know if you even cared that I wasn’t around.”
My mother let out a sharp exhale. “Of course we care. You’re our daughter.”
I twisted the necklace harder. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it,” I said, my words barely audible.
“Oh, Stella.” She sounded more distressed than I’d ever heard her. “We didn’t…”
Raucous cheers from the bar drowned out the rest of her sentence. The Nationals must’ve scored a run; their game against the Rangers was playing on all the TVs.
When the noise died down, my mother spoke again. “You’re out with a friend, so this isn’t the best time to talk. Perhaps we can all meet as a family soon? Not a dinner. Something more casual where we can just talk.”
“I’d like that,” I said softly.
I didn’t want to hold onto grudges, especially not against my family.
I hadn’t seen them in so long, and I wasn’t angry anymore. I was just sad.
After I hung up, I stayed in the hall and tried to wrap my head around the events of the day.
My call with the boutique, seeing Christian, talking to my mom…
It was too much at once, but the only thing I could focus on was how much I wanted to share what’d happened with Christian.
Not just the boutique and my mom, but everything.
How I accidentally used the wrong milk for my smoothie that morning and nearly gagged at the taste.
How Ava and Jules offered to be fit models for my collection.
How proud I was of all the local outreach I’d done.
How much I missed him.
I was so used to sharing the details of my life with Christian that even journaling didn’t fill the void.
In fact, I hadn’t touched my journal since we broke up; it was filled with too many memories of us.
I was upset with him, and I wished he were here. Both things could be true at once.
Light and dark. Flame and ice. Dreams and logic.
Our relationship had always been a dichotomy. It made sense that its death would be as well.