Two weeks after
The voicemail was innocent enough, left with the best of intentions.
"This is Beth on behalf of Vera Wang, calling to notify you that your wedding dress has arrived." You could hear a pin drop in my small Malibu bungalow, despite my four new roommates.
"Shit." Fi muttered around her morning cup of tea, exchanging glances with Chantel, who looked to Leisha and Collins for any sort of guidance in this situation. The only ones that had left me the fuck alone were Rox and Marissa who had to attend to their children, and Eli who had to fly to New York for a few days of meetings.
I wordlessly pushed my chair back from my untouched bagel and mug of black coffee.
"Where are you going?" Collins asked cautiously, but I didn't answer her. Ethan's Lamborghini keys were somewhere around here...
"I asked where you were going." She said more forcefully, and I would commend her for her balls, if I gave a fuck.
"I heard you, I was choosing not to answer."
Ah! There they are! I grabbed the square key fob from the dining room table and made my way to the front door.
"You should probably put on pants if you're going to leave the house." Chantel pointed out as I flipped on my black sunglasses.
"Really? I've seen you walk around in way less, Chantel. At least my shirt covers my ass..." I pointed out, glancing back to my best friend who looked less than pleased at my dig.
Any other time she would've told me to fuck off, but not now. Now I was grieving. Going through the five stages, or whatever the fuck my therapist called it. Alcohol, drugs, self harm...I couldn't remember the rest.
"At least let me drive you." Leisha offer hopefully, but I glared.
"No thanks. Gotta go get my dress ladies." I saluted once before slamming the front door so hard the glass rattled.
In another life I would've smiled at the dumbfounded looks on their faces, but my mouth didn't tilt up that way anymore.
The black leather seat was warm from the afternoon sun, and I pushed the electronic button on the side to adjust for my shorter height. My fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, feeling along the little notches, as the engine roared to life. I could perfectly picture Ethan's long fingers wrapped around the same wheel, and closed my eyes for a moment imagining we were holding hands.
I haven't driven my own car since...the plane crash, because being back in Ethan's Lamborghini was like being surrounded by him again. His black hoodie in the tiny backseat, his pre-set satellite radio stations, his leather air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror.
I shifted into drive and took my time pulling out of my driveway, begging my mind to sit still. Switching between memories as I switched lanes. Ethan's hand on my thigh as he drove one-handed, weaving through the streets I was now driving. Singing at the top of his lungs to whatever song was playing. That voice. The one no one would ever be lucky enough to hear again - myself included.
As if on cue, the song shifted to one of Ethan's. I held down a button on the steering wheel, turning up the volume until his voice surrounded me, haunting me, as he sang Paradise.
YOU ARE READING
The Sweetest Summer
Romance**COMPLETE** Elijah West was everything, and I was just...Avery Adams. The tomboy, the girl next door, the friend zone occupant. The girl who somehow grew up while he was gone filming his television show. But this summer he's back, and the sparks a...
