Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 71

“Never Ever”—All Saints

On Christmas Eve, I opted out of the festive dinner the Finches had invited Mamushka and me to on account that I’d had rather feasted on soiled toddler underwear than spend a minute with Melinda Finch. It was the last day of Descartes, but I didn’t have a shift. No doubt Row’s doing. He knew I disliked big crowds.

“I wish you’d come.” Mom curled a fuzzy, multicolored scarf around her neck, shoving her hands into her mittens. “Melinda makes the best mince pie in all of Maine.”

“Pretty sure she makes the only mince pie in all of Maine,” I guffawed from my spot on the couch, fluffy socks rolled all the way up my shins. A laptop rested in my lap. In lieu of a love life—of any kind of life, really—I had begun drafting more of my hypothetical podcast episodes. It was pretty therapeutic. And by therapeutic, I meant it distracted me from wanting to punch my own face for screwing it all up with Row. Again.

Mom propped against the door for balance, dunking her feet into snow boots. “Shall I bring you some leftovers?”

“If they don’t come with a side of prejudice against Row,” I murmured, typing my life away.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mom. No leftovers needed. I want to keep it light for the 10K run tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes.” She spooned her cheek with her palm, grinning proudly. “I wish your dad could see you.”

“Don’t jinx it, Mom.”

“You’ll crush it. You’ve been practicing for weeks. Rain or shine.”

She was right. But my issue wasn’t the physical challenge. It was all about how I was going to handle it mentally.

As the front door clicked shut, I perched back on the armrest of the couch and blew out a breath, flipping the laptop shut.

I was going to come face-to-face with Allison tomorrow, really see her for the first time since I’d returned to Staindrop, and she’d be able to see me, talk to me, taunt me. Row was right. Even now, after all these years, I still let her get to me so much, I doubted my ability to complete the run. Worse than that, I think that in a way, Allison had messed me up much more than Franco did. Because Franco was firmly in my past. Allison was now a part of my present, too. She never did get her punishment. Karma didn’t find her address.

My tab with Allison Murray was forever open.

She had tried to kill me.

Had possibly sent people to stab the man I loved.

Had an affair with my best friend’s fiancé.

To top all of that off, even though it wasn’t her fault Franco had done what he did to me, she had sure had a ton of fun telling me my pictures were on porn sites.

Allison Murray had tarnished every beautiful thing in my life and was going to destroy whatever was left of it if I let her. I wasn’t sure why Row let her push him around like this, but suddenly, urgency speared my spine to get up and do something. I couldn’t let her get away with everything she’d done. In my time away from Staindrop, Allison had obviously continued running people over on her way to the top.

A floodgate had opened: all the digs she’d thrown my way over the years that had made me doubt myself. Doubt my worth.

“No one will ever want you. You look like a broken flashlight.”

“You smell so bad. Why can’t you eat normal food, weirdo?”

“You little whore. Are those pictures Franco uploaded of you still on porn sites? The internet never forgets. Anyone who ever comes onto you will do it because they know you put out.”

My fingers trembled, and I bit down on my lip to suppress a scream. No. I wasn’t going to wait until I saw her tomorrow morning. Find out what she had planned for me. Let her control the narrative. I realized suddenly that I was the person I’d been waiting for. The heroine of my own book.

It was time to take control.

Time to stand up for myself.

And for everyone I loved.