Until the Final I Do

Chapter Twenty-one

TORI

I call Grayson again. For what feels like the millionth time.

His voicemail picks up. Again.

"Hey, it's Grayson. Leave a message and I might call you back. If you're lucky."

The same infuriating tone, the same lame joke. No callback. No text. No explanation. My chest tightens as I press end and stare at my phone like it owes me answers.

Why won't he answer?

Was I being too clingy? Too available? Too... much?

I hate this spiral. Ever since Brooklyn brought up the possibility that he cheated, it's been eating away at me like acid. I tried to forget about it. Tried to move on and pretend it didn't bother me. But it did. It does. I didn't want to believe it, so when I finally asked him—cornered him about it—he gave me the answer I wanted.

"No, Tori. That wasn't me. That was Spencer leaving with some random girl."

And I believed him.

Even if it didn't entirely add up. Even if my gut twisted the whole time. Because believing the lie felt safer than confronting the truth. Because I didn't want to lose what we had. Because I loved him.

Or maybe... I just didn't want to be the only one without someone.

Brooklyn always had someone. Liam, Spencer, whoever she wanted. She made mistakes, sure, but she never had to wonder if she was wanted. She just was. She was the main character. I was just... the best friend. The sidekick.

And I hate how much I've compared myself to her lately. How much I keep thinking about Liam—her fiancé. It's wrong. I know it's wrong. But knowing doesn't make it stop.

Especially not after that week she left for New York.

She asked me to cover for her. To lie. And I did it. I played along like I always do. I told Liam she had a family emergency. Then I stayed and watched movies with him, had dinner with him, laughed with him.

And I felt something I shouldn't have felt.

I miss him. I miss us. I used to have a thing for Liam before Brooklyn ever did. I let it go. I had to. Once the ring was on her finger, I backed off like any good friend should. But it doesn't mean the feelings vanished. They were just... shelved. Packed away in a closet I promised myself I'd never open again.

Until now.

But this isn't about Liam. This is about Grayson. Or at least it should be.

I try calling again. Same result.

That's it.

I grab my keys and head to his apartment. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he forgot to charge it. Maybe he lost it and didn't even know I was calling. I want to believe those things. I need to believe those things. Because if they're not true...

Then he lied to me.

Again.

⸻

I pull up to his building and sit in my car for a second, clutching the steering wheel like it can anchor me. The brick exterior looks exactly the same as every time I've visited. Familiar. Comforting.

But something about tonight feels... off.

I fish the spare key from my purse—the one he gave me a month ago "just in case"—and head up the stairs. When I reach the door, I pause, take a breath, and slide the key in.

Click.

The door opens easily.

Inside, it's quiet. Dim. The kitchen is spotless. The living room, too. A faint smell of cologne lingers in the air. I smile despite myself as I imagine him cooking breakfast for me like he used to. Eggs too runny, toast too burnt, but his effort always made it taste better.

My love for him was real. Still is.

"Grayson?" I call out softly. No answer.

I hear something—a creak, maybe a shift—from the bedroom.

I walk toward it. My fingers curl around the doorknob.

And then I open the door.

The light from the hallway spills across the bed.

Grayson's on top of her.

Her head turns. His face freezes.

And my heart falls out of my chest.

The room spins as my mind tries to process what my eyes have already confirmed. My legs move on instinct, stumbling backward until I'm out the door. I barely register the world around me—just pain. Blinding, pulsing pain.

"Tori!" he shouts, scrambling after me.

I'm already halfway down the stairs when his hand grabs my wrist.

"Let go of me!" I scream, yanking my arm free.

"It's not what you think—"

"Really? You think I'm stupid?" I shout through tears. "I gave you everything, Grayson. I loved you!"

His mouth opens, but I don't give him a chance to speak. I take the key he gave me and throw it at his chest.

"Don't ever talk to me again."

Then I run. Because if I stop, if I look back—I'll break.

⸻

The neon lights of the club sting my eyes as I step through the doors. I don't even know how I got here. I should be at home, curled up with a pint of ice cream, watching romcoms and pretending everything is fine.

But I don't want comfort.

I want chaos.

I want to feel something besides betrayal.

The first shot of tequila goes down hard. The second burns a little less. The third numbs the ache in my chest. I sway to the beat, letting the music drown everything out—Grayson's face, Brooklyn's judgment, my own shame.

Then hands are on my waist, guiding me. A voice in my ear. I turn to see him—tall, tan, with striking blue eyes and a smile that makes me forget how broken I am. He says something, I laugh. I don't even know his name.

I don't care.

All I know is I say yes.

And soon we're in the his car. And then we're at his place. I'm still drunk. But I'm aware.

And I want this.

I want the distraction. The escape. The kind of fire that burns out every last feeling.

Because right now, I'd rather be numb than shattered.