The Girl Who Fell(100)

“Alec. What we had is over. Really over.”

He eyes me, taunts me. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.” He spins the record around by its thin edge. Clockwise. Around and around. It is almost mesmerizing until he smashes the vinyl against his knee, the record snapping in half, shrapnel shards jumping into the space between us. He drops the pieces, comes to me. I back into the hallway and he follows. He presses his chest against mine, the same way he did at the rink that day. His breath hovers so close. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. How much I love you. How I’d do anything for you.” A finger strokes my jawbone, soft, knowing. “Hopefully, before it’s too late.”

He drops his hand to mine, squeezes my fingers. “I don’t want this to be good-bye, Zephyr.” He raises my hand, kisses it so tenderly. Then he turns to leave. I watch his back disappear around the corner and into the kitchen. I follow behind, locking the door as he lets himself out.

I wait until his car leaves before I pull my key from under its rock.

When I return to my room, my heart thunders as I literally pick up the pieces of my mess. And then I go to my collage, rip down everything Alec ever gave me. I shred his cards, cram their flimsy pieces into the wastebin. I stomp the trash down with my foot, trying to contain what feels like madness.





Chapter 34


I prep for the wedding, stepping into the dress I rescued from the consignment racks. It’s a tight fit and I question my choice when I have to tame my boobs into place. I pin up my hair and finish my makeup just as Lizzie calls.

“Do you look like Cinderella?”

I look down at my unemptied trash. “Slightly less fairy-tale.”

“Hah! We still on for tonight?”

“Still on. I’ll text you when I leave the reception.”

“Deal. And stop freaking about your dress. You have to own it.” It strengthens me the way Lizzie knows and loves me fiercely, doesn’t judge me despite everything. Even when I told her Alec’s words; how it was no wonder my own father didn’t want to stick around. They were difficult to repeat. Impossible to forget. Still impossible words to process.

When I meet Mom in the kitchen, her eyes widen. “You look gorgeous.”

I try to be okay with the compliment. “Thanks. You, too.”

Mom tucks her lipstick into her purse and snaps the butterfly clasp, nods at the two twenties on the counter. “Take that. In case you need anything or if they don’t have an open bar.” She cuts me a look. “For soda.”

I tuck the cash into my purse and shake off the memory of sipping white wine with Alec, my whole body thirsty for him. It causes my skin to shiver in a new way now.

Mom wraps her heather gray cashmere shawl around her. “I decided to get a room at the hotel, but I still want to take one car. I’ll get a ride home with Rachel tomorrow.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “Lizzie’s still sleeping over tonight, right?”

“That’s the plan.” All except for the part about Dad replacing me as Mom’s date. That part is my secret gift to Mom.

She fixes her gaze at me. “A sleepover with Lizzie sounds nice. I like seeing you two hang out again. But no parties.”

“I don’t exactly need the headache on top of everything else.”

“You’ll get through this, Zephyr.” Boston College. My breakup with Alec.

“I know, but it doesn’t inspire celebration.”

“It will. When you wow the admissions board at your interview.”

“If we can even get an interview.”

“You need to think positively.”

“I’m trying. Believe me.” I pull on my peacoat and Mom cringes. “You’re not wearing that ratty jacket, are you?”

“So far you’re not knocking it out of the park in the date department.”

She laughs. “I guess I’m rusty.”

• • •

The drive is slow in the falling snow and the church is full by the time we arrive. As we’re escorted beyond the heavy wood doors, the heat of the space assaults me. The air is woven with incense and perfume. Organ music reaches out from somewhere high in the rafters. The tune is soft and low, as if the very church is inhaling and exhaling song. My eyes follow the white satin runway down the length of the aisle where Gregg stands at the altar in a black suit, a white carnation tucked into the lapel of his jacket. For a moment, I cannot move. I stand in the entryway, the cold air at my back and the warmth on my face. It’s like being caught between two worlds.

Gregg is taller than the other groomsmen, his red hair softened in the yellow light. Responsibility and grace set in his stance as he anticipates the arrival of his sister. Still, I don’t miss the small smile that lights along the edges of his lips when he sees me. The slight tip of his head.