Blended (Redemption #1)

by Sasha Brümmer

  “Lo is going to slaughter you for being drunk at her birthday party, you ass.”

  “Nah, she’s pretty fucking gone herself,” he says as he nods in a direction.

  “Oh yeah?” I turn to take in the room until my eyes lock on Lola, who is downing a shot.

  “Yeah. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if I took you for a ride while the party goes on.”

  “I’d rather not ruin her party, Hold. Thanks, though.”

  Lies. I don’t particularly want to be heartbroken and surrounded by revelers all evening, but what other choice do I have? She’s my best friend.

  “Hads,” she yells from her new position on the dining room table. Mother of all hell, I’m going to need a few more drinks for this.

  “Come dance with me, you skank.” How she is able to yell above the music, I have no idea, but I cannot deny her on her birthday. I go to the bar and ask for two shots of tequila silver and down them before making my way over to her.

  “I’m not sure how safe it is up there, Lo.”

  “Ah fuck it. Get up here.” She starts to dance, throwing her arms into the air, speaking with her body instead of verbally. Her personality is shining through as she sways her hips. She’s an extrovert at heart, an open book that will talk anyone’s ears off. It’s most likely why the apartment is overcrowded tonight. Everyone loves her bubbly personality.

  “Fine,” I grumble and step up onto the seat before I climb onto the wooden table with her. She lunges for me, hugging me tightly. I shriek and hug her back as I look down at the people who are now staring up at us, particularly the same group of women from earlier. Great.

  “I missed you so much. You’re never allowed to leave me again, or I’ll punch you with my tit.”

  I laugh with her. “I don’t even know if that is possible.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” she stammers as I start to dance with her, but she suddenly stops and stares at me. “Holy shit, Hads. You are hot.”

  “What?” I squeak out as her eyes roll down my body.

  “Your outfit. I fucking love your street style, and I’m stealing it.” I have on a white, sleeveless crop top with black floral embellishing and black boning with a pair of high-waist white palazzo pants.

  I shake my head and start to dance with her again, but I’m grateful that I don’t look as jet-lagged as I feel at the moment. Two songs later, we both stumble off of the table with the help of a few outstretched hands. The men cheer once we straighten ourselves up and she throws her arms around me. I may not be as drunk as she is, but I have a steady buzz going on, and it seems to be containing my emotions quite well.

  “I think that Holden might be staring,” she whispers in my ear. I turn to face the direction where she’s looking, and he’s got himself propped up against the doorframe at the far end of the room, watching me.

  “I think that you’re right.”

  “So?” she slurs her words. “Are you going to sleep with him again? We need to get your mind off of Waylon-sexy-as-shit-Brass.”

  The smile that was adorning my face vanishes when she says his name. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I just got back, and I still want him, Lo.”

  “Who? Holden?”

  “No, you drunk. I still want Wade, but I understand that I needed to let him go so he’ll be able to live the life that he’s supposed to lead. The one that was set out for him before I so rudely interrupted.”

  She scrunches her face up at me as if she’s having difficulty seeing or hearing me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I’m going to go find Owen. Go kiss Holden, okay?”

  “Whatever you say, birthday girl.”

  I watch her as she leaves the room in search of her hipster before I lock eyes with Holden again. He takes a step toward me, but I turn around and walk back toward my bedroom. As much as I need a friend tonight, I need to be alone more.

  On my way to my room I grab a bottle of whiskey from a bar and slide through my bedroom door without being noticed and this time, I make sure to lock it—to seal me and my messy sentiments away from the world, as well as to keep any horny intruders out. The only man I want is Wade, but I’ve taken that away from myself.

  I flop back onto my bed and kick off my heels before I unscrew the bottle and take a swig from it. The amber fluid burns my throat as it slides its way down into my system and I groan in delight. This. This is what I need to chase away the thoughts of Wade and why I left him.

  Yup. I left him. Again.

  I toss the bottle back as I take another large swig from it and I realize just how permanent this loss is. The shitty part about it all is the fact that I can’t even bring myself to be upset with him because all of it is on my shoulders.

  I sit up and roll over onto my stomach as I take another drink, gargling with it before I swallow and speak to my headboard. “I think I fucked this one up, buddy, but there’s nothing I can do to change it. I’ve certainly made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.”

  I burst out laughing because, duh, I’m already in bed. I look at the bottle and take one last drink before I set it on my nightstand and flop back over to stare up at my ceiling as the room starts to spin in uncertain circles.

  Maybe I’m a bit drunker than I thought I was.

  I grab a pillow and hold onto it tightly. I’ll be okay, I tell myself.

  Lie.

  “No more chances for you, Hadley Rye,” I mumble into the darkness and shut my eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning that I’m stuck in, courtesy of the whiskey.

  The first of December marks a month from the day that I landed back in the US. I would give anything to lose the pain that immerses me daily. I’ve fucked up, and I made a mistake, but I don’t have a choice to go back and fix it.

  I’ll never be the woman that he needs me to be, and I know that I won’t get the luxury of him looking me in the face and telling me just how much he loves me again. I don’t even know if he cares why I vanished, but I need to move on and keep my life on track—although, I’m not entirely sure what track I’m currently on.

  I’ve kept up with my job as it supplies me with income that I don’t necessarily need, but it’s given me something to occupy my time. I’d like to find something better and more useful to do with my life, but I’m uncertain as to what I want to do exactly. My time with Wade has helped me to realize that I’ve been limiting myself, and I want to break that cycle. I want to find my purpose and possibly help others with finding theirs. I sigh to myself and sit up in bed, brushing my curls out of my face before swinging my legs over the edge and getting up.

  After a quick shower, I throw my hair up into a bun and get dressed in a workout outfit before tying my sneakers and grabbing my yoga mat. It’s just past six in the morning so there shouldn’t be too many people in the apartment building’s gym.

  I lock the door and walk up the few flights of stairs that take me to the gym. Once inside, I set up my mat and plug my earphones into my cell and hit play on a soothing and melancholy playlist that I have specifically set up for practicing yoga.

  After stretching, I position myself on the mat and take deep breaths in and out to try and relax. I need to accept the consequences of being myself, and yoga allows me to do that for the briefest window of time.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m in downward dog when I notice a few more bodies in the room than before. Someone just turned on the radio station overhead, drowning out the music in my headphones. So much for a space that I can escape to.

  I can’t even go to the park around the corner because of this damn snow. This weather has me considering moving to a sunnier climate. Maybe Hawaii? I sit down on my mat and pull out my headphones before stuffing them into my workout bag, and jerk my shoes back on.

  As much as I would love to get away from this weather, I’m unsure if I’d have it in me to leave a place where I know Wade will come back to . . . if he’s not already back. I remember Dr. Heath commenting that he
wouldn’t be able to fly for a minimum of three weeks after surgery. Surely he’s back, but if he is, that means that I’ve truly lost him because he’s not going to attempt to try and chase me. He’d probably tell me that he doesn’t even chase his whiskey.

  I get up after cooling down and make my way back downstairs where I shower and decide to go out for the day. As various places run through my head, I force out the thought of going to Blended. My going there is no longer an option, and I refuse to allow myself to wallow in a place that belongs to him.

  Once I’m dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I pull on my snow boots—a gift from Lola—and head out to find coffee and breakfast. After walking a few blocks, I decide to grab a cab and head out to Navy Pier. It’s one of the Chicago landmarks that I have yet to explore. After wandering around for a while, it’s just after ten in the morning when I make my way inside a bakery. I order a cappuccino and toasted bagel with cream cheese and then take a seat next to a window that overlooks the lake.

  My mind must be running a hundred miles a minute because a waitress comes up to me to ask if I’d like a new cappuccino. I glance down at my coffee and bagel, neither of which I have touched since sitting down over an hour ago.

  “Yes, please.”

  She leaves me to my thoughts once again. I get lost again thinking about Wade and wondering how his recovery is going before she comes back with a new coffee. She glances around the room before sitting down across from me.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a running bet with my co-workers over there.” She points them out, and my eyes meet a group of three girls who are blatantly staring at us.

  “Uhm, okay?’

  “I’m convinced that you are the woman who was photographed with Waylon Brass a couple of weeks ago, but they think that you look nothing like her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you see, there was this article in the local paper of his being in an accident while in Australia, and there was a picture taken of a woman with him that morning on the beach. You kind of remind me of her, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “You don’t really look as radiant as she did in the picture.”

  “Then I suppose that I’m not her.”

  She groans and throws her head back. Her friends cheer and high-five each other off to the side of the counter.

  “Do you happen to know where I can grab a copy of that paper?”

  “I think we might have an old copy. Let me go and check.” She gets up and walks over to her friends who have a paper in their hands. She snatches it from them before returning to me and giving me the rolled-up paper. “It’s all yours. Sorry for bothering you, but I really thought that it was you. Lord only knows that any woman in the city would want to be her.”

  “Right,” I tell her as she walks away and I unroll the paper, revealing a picture of Wade and me in the water with a surfboard at my side. He has his arm around me, and my head is thrown back in laughter as his eyes burn into me. He looks like he’s enamored with the me I see in the picture. I dash away a tear that falls and turn away from the girls before any of them are able to understand my emotions.

  I hadn’t even realized that there were people taking pictures of us that morning. I grab my phone out of my purse and do an image search for Waylon Brass in Sydney, Australia.

  When the results come up, there are multiple pictures of the two of us on the beach. Some are from the day we arrived, when we went with Isla to the beach, while most of them are from our surfing adventure. I swallow hard as I come across one of us sitting in the sand. I have my head resting on his shoulder, and his head rests on mine as we glance out at the ocean. I hold my finger down on the image before an option to save it comes up, which I do.

  Why hadn’t Lola told me about any of this? She’s overinvolved in Chicago’s gossip column, and I’m sure that she’s seen these. I attach the image to a text message to her: Why didn’t you tell me that these existed?

  I take a sip of my coffee before I receive a response from her: I thought that you knew about them. That one just happens to be my favorite of the bunch. I didn’t want to bring them up in case it upset you.

  Lo, since I got back I have never been not upset.

  I take a bite of my bagel but push it aside when my stomach churns.

  I know that you are. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . you looked so happy in them.

  I was. I type out and hit send before putting my phone away and cursing the universe for reminding me exactly what I chose to walk away from. I signal to the girl that gave me the paper to come over.

  She does, and I gesture for her to take a seat.

  “Is everything all right? Listen, I’m sorry. Please, just don’t call my manager over.”

  I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t planning on it. How much did you just lose to your co-workers?”

  She blows out a breath and leans back against the seat. “Fifty bucks each.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I was certain that it was you.”

  I give her a small smile and reach into my purse, and pull my wallet out, producing three fifty-dollar bills that I caused her to lose.

  “What’s this?”

  I hand the paper back to her and stand, pointing down at the image. “That’s me,” I say and then walk out while she gapes openly at me.

  I take slow steps to the end of the pier, past the flags waving in the wind until I reach the railing. I lean against it and stare out onto the lake, allowing it to be the only thing to see me cry.

  By the time I’ve arrived back at the apartment, the sun has set and I’m freezing cold. I could not even manage to warm up while I took a cab from Navy Pier.

  I unlock the door and step inside where I’m greeted by Owen and Lo. “Hey stranger.”

  “Hi,” I offer up without looking up from my feet as I walk into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I hear Lola say something to Owen, but I ignore it and go into the bathroom and start running the water for a bath.

  When I’m settled into the hot water, and surrounded by bubbles, Lo lets herself in and takes a seat on the lip of the tub. “Will you talk to me?”

  I set my phone down on my towel and sigh when she glances at my screen, which is filled with the image of Wade and myself sitting on the sand.

  “You miss him, don’t you?”

  I remain quiet. I don’t feel like talking about him with her because she’s just going to tell me how bad I fucked everything up and that I need to move on to Holden.

  “Hads. I hadn’t realized how much of an effect all of this has had on you.”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have asked you about it when you first got back. I figured that you were just bummed that you didn’t get to sleep with him.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t need the babysitting.”

  “Would you stop it? Listen, I’ve been a horrible friend for letting this just slip by, and when you walked in just now, it was the first time that I got to see exactly how broken you are.”

  Broken, huh? Oh, the irony.

  “How can I help?”

  “You could find a way for me to erase these feelings.”

  “I’m not sure how to do that, but how about we try and forget about him tonight and have a girls’ night in? Just the two of us. It’s time to move on and forget the pain that comes along with the memory of him. You are an incredible person, and you need to find that inside of yourself again.”

  “It hurts when you think about how important someone used to be to you, and it’s my own fault for the pain that I’m in, which is why I’m happily suffering.”

  “Can I make the motion that you suffer alongside me, Jack, and Jim Beam?”

  I sigh reluctantly before nodding to her. “I’m not leaving this apartment. Especially if people are going to ask me if I’m the woman that he was with.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “It’s how I found out about the pictures. I had no idea that we wer
e being followed around. He was my escape, and I was unable to see past him.”

  “Nosy bitches. I’m sorry on their behalf. Now quit moping in the tub and get dressed into something cozy so we can curl up with a movie and a bottle of liquor each.”

  Once I’m dried off and dressed, I make my way out into the living room where Lo has candles burning, a joint on the table, two bottles of liquor out, and several shot glasses.

  “Where did you get that from?” I gesture toward the joint.

  “Owen. He said it’s a gift from him and Holden to try and lift your spirits.”

  “I think that I’ll stick with the liquor. Thanks, though.”

  I plop down next to her and pull the blanket off of the back of the couch before getting comfortable.

  “What movie do you want to watch?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “All right,” she says as she puts on Friends from her Netflix account instead of a movie. “Season one, episode one. We’re in for some laughs.”

  “If you say so.”

  By the time we’ve hit episode three, I’m hammered, and the group on the screen keeps talking about some dating language. It’s now that I grab the bottle and drink straight out of it. Screw the shot glasses.

  Six weeks, two days, thirteen hours, and a couple of seconds.

  It’s my count.

  The count that gradually grows by the second since I last saw her.

  Within those seconds, minutes, hours, and days, I have fought to get my life back. The desperation in my actions hasn’t gone unnoticed by my doctors, and I’ve been told to take it slower more times than I care to count. My recovery has taken three weeks longer than the doctor initially assumed, and because of this delay I have not been able to fly, let alone do much more than focus on my recovery from surgery. I’ve put off all thoughts about her because each time I think about her, it hinders my ability to progress. She’s gone, and I’ve accepted it.

  Madelyn was relieved of her duties by yours truly two weeks after Hadley left me. She put up a fight with Jacobs once I told him that I had dismissed her, and she refused to leave. She had to be physically removed from the hotel, and my lawyers are insisting on a restraining order, but since I’m flying back to the States, I couldn’t give a fuck. I do not now, nor ever, have time to waste on women like her.