I warred with my options. When I called, there’d been no way in hell that I planned to go to Mira’s event. I couldn’t be there with him. It would be impossible to be a model under those circumstances.

But her speech…

We had become friends, and I had hoped that we’d one day be sisters. She’d done a lot for me and Hudson, but truly, she’d also done a lot for just me. And maybe doing this for her would help me with closure.

“All right. I’ll do it.” Did I really f**king just say that? “But you better swear to god that he will not be there. And this better not be a trick to get us together.”

“I swear he will not be there. Swear on my baby.” She paused. “Though that tricking you to get you together idea...”

“Mira—”

“I’m just kidding.” Her smile was evident in her voice. “Yay! Thank you, Laynie.”

“You’re welcome.” Sort of. “But don’t expect a cheery model.”

“You can do the serious/somber thing. I’m totes okay with that.” She lowered her voice. “And for the record, I don’t know what that f**ker did to mess things up with the two of you, but he’s a miserable wreck about it. I mean, completely and utterly broken up.”

For half a second, I actually felt joy. Was it because I was happy the ass**le was as miserable as I was or because I thought his misery said something about how he felt for me?

It would kill me if I kept wondering about the validity of any of his emotions. I had to stop thinking about it. “Mira, if you’re going to keep telling me about him, I’m going to cancel.”

“No! Don’t do that.” She sounded panicked. “Just had to get that out there. I’m done now.”

“Okay, but no more.” Please, no more. Another deep breath. “I’ll change there on Saturday.”

She squealed. “I’m so excited! See you then.”

I almost smiled as I hung up.

“Well, look at that,” Liesl said as I handed her phone back. “You have some color in your cheeks.”

“It’s not possible.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. God, mourning was exhausting. And boring as hell. I had to find a way to move on. Mira’s event was a good first step. But I needed to take some other steps.

Like figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Just thinking the thought seemed overwhelming. A tear rolled down my cheek. Seriously? Wasn’t I about f**king cried out yet?

But it had to be done. I grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed at my eye. “I, um, I want to go to work.”

Liesl cleared her throat. “Are you sure?” My tears probably had her unconvinced.

“Not tonight. But tomorrow, yeah. I need to see if I can be there. I don’t think I can make a good decision about my future at the club without trying a shift out.”

Through all my struggles with obsessive love addiction, The Sky Launch had been my sanity. It had been the only thing to ground me when I’d been free falling. Now, as I was falling again, couldn’t it be the place to save me again?

If not, I had to find out what could. Because already, I was getting that restless feeling in the pit of my stomach—that anxious tickle that marked me as an addict no matter how healthy I was. It was another sign that it was time to start figuring out my future.

When Liesl went into work that night, I forced myself to find something to do other than sleep and cry. Something other than remember. I turned on Spotify and found something to download on my Kindle app since Liesl had no books in her apartment.

But I couldn’t get into the novel. And nothing else on the Internet or on TV was enough to occupy my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking, and as I moved through the grieving process, my thoughts turned obsessive, as they always did when I was hurting. Some of them weren’t even clearly formed but were instead only rough impulses. The urge to see him, for example. Not to talk to him, but to look at him from a distance. The urge to smell him again. The urge to hear his voice.

The yearning drove me mad.

And it pissed me off.

Because I was stronger than this. I was stronger than Hudson Pierce and Celia Werner. I would not let them pull me down to the person that I once was.

She thought she could destroy me?

Well, f**k that. I’d survived heartache before. I could survive it again.

Adrenaline surged through me, and I suddenly felt invincible. Or capable at least—invincible was going a bit too far. But “Roar” by Katy Perry came on my playlist, and I did jump around the room singing at the top of my lungs.

It felt good. Invigorating. Energizing.

Then “So Easy” by Phillip Phillips came on, and immediately my strength disappeared. “You make it so easy…” he sang, and all I heard was Hudson saying it to me.

And it was all a lie.

I dissolved into a mess of snot and ugly tears. Well, another night of crying wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was always tomorrow to be strong.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next day, I didn’t feel stronger, but I did feel resolved.

Planning the future still seemed overwhelming, but I could handle today. Baby steps. It’s what I’d learned in therapy. It was something I knew how to do.

On paper and in pencil, I broke down the hours. It helped to look at it written down so it didn’t feel bigger than it was. I started at the bottom of the page since I’d already decided to go to the club.

8 p.m. to 3 a.m. work, I wrote.

Before that I’d go to a group meeting. I looked online and found one at six that evening. Perfect. I filled it in above my work shift.

At the top of the page I wrote in: breakfast, shower, dress.

Then: sneak over to the penthouse to get some clothes.

Even writing the last thing had been hard. To say it sounded daunting was an understatement. The Bowery had been the place where Hudson and I had really begun sharing our life. It would be filled with painful reminders.

But going through the memories, dealing with them—that was part of healing.

Getting through the first line of items was easier than I’d expected. Breakfast actually stayed down, and I managed to find a pair of drawstring shorts in Liesl’s drawer that didn’t fall off my waist.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Liesl offered around a bite of a bagel.

“No. I need to do this by myself.” I threw my still wet hair into a ponytail. “I’ll need you for the next time—when I get all my stuff. But this time, I’m just going to run in and pack a bag to get me through a few days. It’ll feel good to finally wear panties again.”