Page 79 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
How had they done it? How had they figured love out and made it work? Had I fucked up? Should I have been more understanding? More patient? More flexible?
I ran down the stairs to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed, sobbing into my pillow for an hour. When I was completely cried out, I blew my nose and put drops in my eyes. Then I picked up my phone and called Skylar.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Are you busy?”
“Jillian? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
I took a shaky breath. “I’m at home. But I need to talk.”
“Let me call you right back.”
We hung up and I called Natalie. “Can I come over?” I asked her.
“Of course! Are you OK?”
“No. I’ll be there in ten.”
By the time Skylar called me back, I was on my way out the door. “I had to check with Mia and see if I could get off a little early,” she said breathlessly, as if she were hurrying somewhere on foot. “She said it was fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Go to Natalie’s house,” I told her. “I need you both right now.”
“Done. I’ll see you there.”
I hung up, taking measured deep breaths and telling myself I would be OK, even if I lost Levi.
I still had family. I still had love.
On the ten-minute drive to Natalie and Miles’s adorable house, complete with white picket fence, a nursery upstairs, and a sign hanging on the front door that said Love Lives Here, I kept telling myself I’d done the right thing. I’d fought back tears the whole time, but as soon as I saw that fucking sign, I lost it. Natalie opened the door to find me wailing on her porch, and she opened her arms.
I went into them, crying into her shoulder like I was the baby sister needing comfort for once. Miles appeared and shut the door behind me, then rubbed my back. “How about a drink, Jilly?”
“OK.” I sniffed, picking up my head. “Got any whiskey?”
“I sure do. On the rocks?”
“Perfect.” I sighed, my shoulders releasing some tension. “I need a tissue.”
We filed into the kitchen, which smelled delicious, like when my mom used to make homemade chicken potpie. It was a smell that reminded me of home, of family, of happiness. Would I ever have those things? I blew my nose, willing myself not to start crying over fucking chicken potpie.
Miles brought me the whiskey a moment later, and Natalie rubbed my shoulder. “You look terrible. Your eyes are all puffy.”
“I know. I feel terrible.”
“Should we go into the family room?”
I nodded. “OK. Skylar’s on her way.”
“Good. Miles, will you check the pies and see if the crust is golden brown yet? If they are, please take them out and turn the oven off.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks, babe.”
I will not be jealous, I vowed. I will not, I will not, I will not. This is just a bad night.
In the family room, I dropped onto the couch and Natalie sat beside me. I couldn’t resist putting a hand over her belly. It was hard and round, about the size of half a basketball. “How are you feeling?”
