Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series)

by Laura Ashley Gallagher

  “You don’t drink enough.”

  Most mothers scold you for getting too drunk. My mother told me I don’t do it enough.

  “Huh?” I moan, rubbing my temples and licking my lips with a dry tongue.

  “What I mean is: you don’t do it often enough. Not get drunk, have fun.”

  I have fun.

  Sometimes.

  “This is why.” I swirl a finger around my face. “This is torture.” I groan as I pull myself up on my elbows. “Did you have a good night?”

  “It was so lovely.”

  She crosses her arms and leans back, like she is searching for answers to her unasked questions.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t think I would see you here this morning. I thought you might have wanted to stay with Alex.”

  Images of his car stopping, and me asking to go back to the hotel, flash before my eyes. I feel hot and it’s not from the hangover.

  Oh, sweet heavens, I begged for sex.

  I make a mental note to call him before I leave to check if we’re still dating.

  I toss my legs over the bed, ignoring the pounding in my head so my mother doesn’t see me flustered. “I told you I was staying here.”

  “I know,” she drawls. “But when your boyfriend shows up, and you leave with him, you usually stay with them for…” she stops, and I silently beg she doesn’t finish the sentence. “You know—sex.”

  “Stop talking, Mom.”

  I stumble into the bathroom and begin brushing my teeth with too much toothpaste. I have to get this taste out of my mouth. And I’m not talking about sex with my mother.

  “Did you two have an argument?”

  I roll my eyes and brush my teeth again. “No,” I mumble.

  “How come you’re here and not there?”

  She is far too invested in my sex life.

  I spit, and rinse my mouth, feeling reasonably better. A shower should fix me completely.

  “He had to work, Mom.”

  “And?”

  She turns around on the bed, facing me. Her eyes narrow on me, and it’s only now I see the glossiness around her green orbs. She’s hungover too, but she’s hiding it better.

  “You are having sex, Mandy?” she asks slowly, edging closer.

  Why? Why me?

  “Mom, I am not having this conversation with you. Don’t worry yourself about my sex life. Focus on your own.”

  She tuts and stands to help me make the bed. “Actually, your father and I-”

  “Don’t you dare finish the sentence. I’m sick enough.”

  I swallow the bile in my throat.

  She fluffs the pillows and sighs. “You’ve seen the man you’re with, haven’t you?”

  “Do you want to have sex with him?”

  Her eyes widen, and her face flushes a furious red, but when she doesn’t answer, I can’t help but burst into laughter.

  I shake my head. “Unbelievable.” Before she can ask any more questions, I ramble, “There’s nothing wrong with our sexual appetite. I just haven’t taken a bite yet.”

  Now I’m as red as my pajama bottoms. Crimson.

  “Why?” Her voice is casual, like I’m the daughter who calls her every week to discuss my sex life. My mother could hardly bring herself to tell me the facts of life. Instead, she threw a book at me and told me to ask questions when I finished reading.

  I take a calming breath and again swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.

  “Mom, I love you. But I don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you. You don’t need to worry. Everything is fine. Alex makes me happy. And I’m sure we will have sex in the near future.”

  “Good,” she clips, before coming to kiss me on the forehead. “Now, have a shower, because the tide wouldn’t take you out the way you smell right now.”

  My mouth gapes open and it remains that way as she saunters out of my room.

  After my shower, I feel refreshed, with only a lingering banging behind my eyes.

  I check my phone to see a text from Alex. My heart skips a beat.

  Alex: Good morning, beautiful. How’s the hangover?

  Me: Miserable. Do you still want to date me?

  Alex: What the hell?

  Me: I vaguely remember I embarrassed myself beyond belief last night.

  I don’t vaguely remember anything. Unfortunately, I vividly remember everything.

  While in the shower, it all came back to me in waves. I almost put my head through the shower door when I remembered he told me how he felt, and I asked if I could go back to his hotel room. And then I recalled how he caught my face in his hands before he left, and my body pooled at my feet.

  My dating etiquette is in the dumpster and my mind in the gutter.

  Alex: You’re embarrassed?

  Me: Of course I am.

  Alex: You want the truth?

  No.

  Me: Yes.

  Alex: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And none of my thoughts are appropriate.

  Sweet Jesus.

  I smile so much my face hurts.

  Me: You want the truth?

  Alex: Always.

  Me: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. And my thoughts are so much dirtier than yours.

  He doesn’t reply.

  See, my dating etiquette is in the dumpster.

  After what I’m sure is the longest minute of my life, the bubbles pop up on my screen.

  Nothing.

  A bead of sweat breaks out on my brow and I muster the courage to text him again.

  Me: Alex? Are you sure you still want to date me?

  At the same time, his text comes through.

  Alex: Do you know how hard it is for me not to leave the site right now and go and get you?

  I don’t doubt him either.

  Alex: And yes, Mandy. I still want to date you.

  Me: Can I come over tonight? We can get Chinese food. I think it’s the only thing that will cure me.

  I’m lying. I already feel fine. I just want to ball up in his arms.

  Alex: You know you don’t need to ask. I’ll pick it up on my way home.

  Me: I’ll be the one with all the dirty thoughts curled up on your sofa.

  Alex: Mandy?

  Me: Yes?

  Alex: I meant every word last night.

  My heart inflates in my chest.

  Me: I know. Me too.

  Alex: Fuck.

  I giggle at his last message but don’t reply. It’s true. I wouldn’t have regretted if we had sex last night, but I love him even more for thinking of me first.

  Whoa.

  Love?

  I do. I love him, and it scares me so much I want to climb back under the covers.

  ***

  Dad cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast, which cures the remaining headache.

  “Matt.” I hiss as he crunches too loudly on his colourful cereal. “Stop breathing.” But then I smile because he’s here this morning and not at home with his wife. She wasn’t at the party either. He told me she was sick, but I called bullshit on that. She’s going through the motions. I get it. They need their time.

  He grunts at me but continues. “What’s wrong, sis? Did Alex not feel you up again last night?”

  I choke, as does my dad.

  “Oh, they’re not having sex,” Mom adds from behind her newspaper.

  I’ve entered an alternative universe. There’s no other explanation for this conversation and why sex is on the tip of everyone’s tongue this morning. And at the breakfast table, of all places.

  My father glares at them both, but they ignore him.

  “You could have fooled me.” Matt barks a laugh, taking another spoonful of cereal. “Seriously, sis, go get laid. What has it been, seven years?”

  “Matt,” my father warns, booming across the kitchen.

  “Seven years?” My mother looks simply horrified.

  See, this is why we don’t discuss sex because she is
looking at me like I’ve sprouted horns.

  “But it’s seven years since…” she trails off, her face becoming pale. “Oh,” is all she says when she realizes.

  Great, now my mother is going to worry about me more than she already does.

  I look at my father, whose expression mirrors mine—like he wants the ground to open up.

  “Dad, please cover your ears,” I grit.

  He does as I ask.

  I look at Mom and Matt. “Will you two shut up about my sex life? It’s ridiculous. And who cares if I’m having sex. I’m happy.” I look at my mother. “And no, I haven’t had sex with anyone since Nick. And no, you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t have some sort of sexual dysfunction.” I think. “Have you two ever heard of taking it slow? We’ve been together for four months, not four years.”

  “And you.” I turn to Matt and point my finger. “When I tell you things as my brother, it doesn’t mean you get to blurt them out to anyone. This is my life, Matt. It wasn’t your secret to tell.”

  I’m not sure if it even is a secret. But surrounded by my family, it feels like one.

  I’m surprised to feel the back of my throat prickle, and tears sting my eyes. Though I’m pretty sure I’m too dehydrated to cry.

  Matt’s face immediately softens. He jumps up and throws his arms around my shoulders. “Shit, Mandy. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I know he didn’t mean it. He’s my brother. We know everything about each other, and we take our secrets seriously.

  “I know,” I sniff, wiping dry eyes. “It’s fine. I’m hungover and sensitive.”

  He kisses the top of my head in a wordless apology.

  My father has taken his hands away from his ears and is glancing between us. “Have you all finished?” he grounds out. “Can we get back to eating breakfast? And please, stop talking about jiggy-jiggy time.”

  Matt and I pin our eyes on each other and burst out with laughter.

  “Jiggy-jiggy?” I choke, trying to catch my breath. “Come on, Dad. You can do better than that.”

  He barks a laugh, winks at me, and gets back to his breakfast. I know he doesn’t call it that. He did it to lighten the mood for me. I smile and make a mental note to hug him extra tight before I leave.

  ***

  “Oh, Mandy.” My mother comes running after me as I open my car door.

  I swear, I’ll cry if she mentions sex.

  “Letters.” She reaches out her hand filled with envelopes. “These came for you.”

  “Thanks. It’s probably alumni stuff from the university.” I stuff them into my bag.

  She kisses my cheek. “Safe drive home, sweetie.”

  I don’t know why I feel the need to tell her this, but it might ease some of her worries. “I’m in love with him, Mom.”

  She tilts her head, one side of her face lifting in a soft smile before she squeezes my arm. “I know, honey. I’m your mother. I see these things.” Of course she does. “And I can also see when a man is in love with my daughter. He looks at you—I don’t know—it gave me goosebumps yesterday.”

  It’s not just me then.

  My mom blows a long breath. “You need to tell him, sweetie.”

  I swallow back my fear. “I know. I will.”

  But not tonight.

  Tonight, I want to be just me.

  One last time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  6 Years Ago - Then

  “Mandy, I think you should go to the doctor. You don’t look well. You’re so depressed, you’ve started throwing up everything you eat,” Mom warned while clearing the plates after breakfast.

  Matt scowled and rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Ease off. Her boyfriend just died.”

  “I know. But I still think she needs to see a doctor. I don’t mean for tablets. Maybe she could suggest someone for her to speak to,” she continued as she loaded the plates into the dishwasher.

  “Please, Ruth,” my father pleaded. “Leave her alone.”

  “But I’m worried about her. I mean, look at her. She looks like a zombie. She’s all skin and bone. Surely you agree with me. She is walking around in a daze and it’s killing me to watch her. Nick wouldn’t want it either.”

  My head shot up at the mention of his name.

  “She barely talks. I mean, any sign of communication would be good, but she doesn’t even give us that.”

  I closed my eyes in a desperate attempt to block out her voice and rubbed my fingers over my temples. I suddenly had a headache coming on.

  “She hasn’t cried since the day of his funeral. It’s been over a month. It can’t be right.”

  I cried. Though she didn’t see it.

  “I’m sitting right here, Mom. Stop talking about me as if I’m invisible. I’m fine, and I don’t need anyone to talk to.”

  “Mandy, listen to me. You’re ill. You’re making yourself physically sick from this. You’re not sleeping. You haven’t touched your breakfast and when you do, it comes back up. Your friends are calling you all week. You don’t even get out of bed to tell them you don’t want to speak to them.”

  My father gripped my hand, sending me shock waves of support. He understood how overbearing my mother was. How the man survived with her constant nattering for so long baffled me.

  “So?”

  “Fine.” I huffed, pushing out the chair to stand. I couldn’t handle sitting there as my mother went off on another rant about how I needed help. “If I go today, will you be happy?”

  Her smile seemed forced when she said, “Yes.”

  She mumbled something else under her breath, but I already left the kitchen.

  I got it. I was a mess. She was worried.

  But I was submerged in something. I didn’t know what it was, but it was cold. It was murky and desolate, and my chest felt empty. Nick took up so much space there, it felt hollow without him.

  I was sinking. Lying on my back, allowing the darkness to surround me. Like the feeling when you’re in water and all the sounds disappear. I was hanging on by a thread. My head bobbed on the surface, but I was being pushed under and I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

  I was tired.

  “Are you okay? I know she can be tough sometimes,” Matt asked as I threw myself on my bed.

  “I will be when Mom gets off my case. She knows I hate doctors. They usually involve needles.” I sighed, cuddling my arms around my pillow.

  “Do you want me to call and make an appointment for you?”

  He was doing everything he could for me. I saw how he looked at me. It hurt him too; to watch me unravel.

  “I’ll do it. But you can come with me if you’d like. For moral support.”

  He smiled at me gratefully.

  “You make the appointment and if there’s time, we’ll go for a walk in the park first.”

  Instantly, the tension released from my muscles.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, lowering my eyes. It was exactly what I needed.

  An hour later, we were walking through the enormous gates of West Harbour Gardens. As usual, it was breathtaking. I loved coming to the park in Autumn. It was my favourite season. The grass still felt soft beneath my feet, and a layer of red, yellow, and brown leaves dusted the path.

  We strolled along the open pathway, listening to the wind whistling through the branches as our feet swept the leaves away. We stopped to enjoy the view of the river to our right and I leaned against the metal railing.

  “I’m proud of you, Mandy.” He rubbed his palms together, gathering heat. “The way you’re handling everything.” He draped his arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer. “Just don’t cover whatever pain you’re feeling for the sake of other people.”

  He was wrong. I wasn’t handling anything.

  “It’s difficult to explain. I want to talk about him. I do. But everyone wants to talk about his death, or how he was right before he died. I want to remember him as he was before any of that. I want t
o remember the way he smiled without pain and how he cursed when he did something silly. I want to talk about the way he loved, and how, even though he was sick, he took care of me. He made me whole.”

  I wanted to remember and forget all at once because remembering brought so much agony.

  “You can talk about him like that with me.” He squeezed my arm and kissed the top of my head. “It’s hard to watch you when someone mentions his name. You hold yourself like you’re about to break.”

  I flinched. I tried my best to keep my pain to myself. I couldn’t even do that right.

  “I want you to know; I’m proud of you for trying because that’s all anyone can ask. Never feel rushed into moving on.”

  I smiled, but it faltered. Would the empty feeling always be with me?

  “You’re the best big brother.” I pecked him on the cheek and circled my arms tightly around his waist.

  “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep,” he joked, pushing me playfully.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I started, linking my arm in his as we walked again. “I think it’s about time we meet this girlfriend of yours.”

  His head snapped so fast he almost broke it.

  I may have been buried in grief, but I knew when Matt was up to something.

  I tilted my head. “Oh, come on, Matt. Walking out of the room when your phone rings. The stupid grin on your face when you get a text message. I can read you like a book.”

  “I’ll never have any secrets from you, will I?”

  “A-ha, so you do. Come on. Tell me everything. What is she like? What is her name? When do I get to meet her?” I rolled out every question, knowing it would annoy him. He was my big brother, and he protected me for long enough. It was my turn to be the protector.

  “Calm down. You’re hyperventilating.” His eyes danced around the harbour before resting on a small boat. “Her name is Suzie.” His grin when he said her name didn’t go unnoticed. “And she’s amazing. You’ll get to meet her at Christmas. I want to see how she gets on with Mom’s scare tactics.”

  Christmas?

  Wow. It was serious.

  He appeared flustered, in the best possible way.

  My brother was giddy with this girl. I never witnessed him acting that way. I was elated, but something didn’t feel right. He never kept things from me.