To Have and To Hold

Chapitre Seize

On Saturday, it wasn't the bride who was bawling her eyes out. It was me.

It wasn't the good kind of crying either, where tears of joy kind of just settle in my eyes and occasionally tip over my cheeks. No, no this was the Ugly Cry.

I was currently in one of the stalls of the woman's bathroom, sitting the paper-coated toilet seat cover with my dress balled up in my fists, trying to stifle my loud sobs. I was already dressed, already had my hair done. Thankfully, my makeup wasn't done yet. I'd given some lame excuse that I had to run to my car real quick and grab something, but ran into the bathroom instead.

Seeing Jasmine in her wedding dress really hit home, right in the center of my chest. This was it. This was my final day with the best friend being my own, and—and I couldn't take it.

Jasmine had started moving out her things the past two days and I'd held it together. She'd talked to me about paying the final amount of her rent and I'd held it together. She'd asked me if she could take the Wi-Fi router to Lincoln's apartment and I'd held it together.

But seeing her in a wedding dress? It was the end of the world.

I knew I needed to be honest with myself; I wasn't losing her. She wasn't moving away, just across town. But it felt like I was having my arm chopped off, I'd been living with her—and Annabeth, for that matter—for nearly two years and she was leaving me on my own.

My heart clenched, and my throat constricted on a sob.

A part of me wanted Jasmine or Annabeth to come and find me, to wrap their arms around me and tell me that it was going to be okay, but I knew that I needed to woman up. They weren't going to be around anymore to comfort me, to guide me through situations.

I brought my feet up to rest on the paper on the toilet, hugging my knees. I didn't want to.

"Alice?" I heard a voice, deep, vaguely familiar, and I stopped. I stopped sniffling and sobbing. I breathed through my mouth, feeling a tear track down my cheek. "Is that you? Are you okay?"

I stood up shakily, swiping my hands across my cheeks. My hands were shaking. "I'm fine," I called back, but my voice cracked.

The voice didn't reply. I exited the stall after a moment, coming out of the bathroom to find who had been waiting.

Derek Sinclair was clad in a nice button down shirt and jeans, his tie loose around his neck. His hair was cropped short and his ears looked too large for his head. I wasn't sure who I was expecting, but he was not among the list of people I was hoping for. "Oh. Hey."

He smirked. "Sounded real enthusiastic."

"I'm kind of having a rough day," I sniffed, as if he couldn't tell by my swollen eyes.

"I wondered," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I wondered if today would be rough for you."

Okay, did that sound creepy? Totally. Ew.

Derek smirked, as if me being struck speechless was due to the fact that he was smooth. "Sorry, I, ah—I was looking for you. The girls said they thought you went to your car." He blinked. "I thought it was you crying in here."

"Well, I'm fine." And then. "Wait, why were you looking for me?"

Derek smiled, and it was a nice smile. All teeth and charm. "I know about Steve."

I blinked. "Steve?"

"Photographer Steve whose name is really Jeremiah?"

Now I jolted, as if he'd pressed a live wire to my skin. "What?"