Recovery (The Addictive Trilogy Book 3) by Ashley Love

Author:Ashley Love [Love, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

11

“Aimee’s married now.”

I watch Lex walk the perimeter of the graveled ground where we always sit, on these same picnic table seats, one foot stepping in front of the other on the wooden beam border, much like a child walks the edge of a concrete curb. The sky is a lazy gray today, which is sort of a comfort to my fuzzy head, the result of champagne after going so long without drinking. We’ve both been peculiarly quiet since I arrived at noon. I think he sensed my foul mood earlier and has been treading lightly. I just keep thinking about yesterday. About the wedding. About the baby.

“No shit? Damn, I guess that did sneak up, huh?” He puts a lit cigarette between his lips and watches his feet. His head is covered by a charcoal beanie.

I stare at the wooden table glumly, my feet still aching from my bridesmaids heels, tucked away now in soft winter boots. “Yeah, how do you think I felt?” I’m sure thinking about other people isn’t a habit he’s ever harbored. I wonder if that’s changed, if it’s begun to change yet since he’s been here. I wonder if anything has changed.

“How was it? I mean, was it that big thing like you see on TV…white horses and carriages and shit?” He laughs, hopping down into the gravel and I give him a look but can’t help but smile.

“No. It was at the country club.” At this, he rolls his eyes. “It was nice, half indoor, half out, not too big, not too small”

“So, perfect, in other words?”

“Nothing’s perfect.”

“No shit, and the sooner people start realizing that the better everything will be,” he says, sort of bitterly, and it rubs me the wrong way. As if everyone’s had this expectation of perfection from him? What the fuck does he know about that? “Were you bored out of your mind?” he asks before I can vocalize any of this.

“I dunno,” is all I offer. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I think about the voicemail that was waiting for me after the reception.

“You don’t know?” he says, seeming somewhere off in the distance.

Seth’s dead… I listened to it three times to make sure.

I look at him and he’s still looking at me, curiously, expectantly.

I just shrug.

He turns his back and lights another cigarette, shaking his head. We don’t say anything for a long time and he walks in a small circle, scuffing his feet against the rocks.

“How was your birthday?” He’d turned 26 four days before Aimee’s wedding. I’d called to tell him happy birthday since there wasn’t much else I could do, but he was in meetings or sessions or somewhere and I’d had to leave a message. I’d been wrapped up pre-wedding chaos and he, well, he was here.

“It was alright. They bought these cupcakes or whatever, I didn’t eat any.” He shrugs, but the visual of him being presented with a box of sprinkled cupcakes is sort of amusing. “I got your message.

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