We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 76

ONE GIRL, TWO TICKETS

I don't move my head off the pillow. Because I can't or because I won't, I'm not sure. Either way it doesn't matter. Right now, the pillow is all that feels real. As I stare at the room, gilded in morning sun, I notice everything is orange.

It's like a sweet orange filter is overtaking everything. That, or I'm just wearing sorbet glasses.

I close my eyes and see his silhouette. I see Brooks leaving. For the briefest moment, I wonder if it's maybe what I've always needed. It's certainly what I've always thought would happen. Water bottle engagement ring be damned.

I knew this is how it would end.

Me, in shambles. AGAIN.

My phone has 2% battery life. I plug it into the cord that's peeking out from behind the bedside table. My eyes flit to the papers resting on top next to the lamp.

Plane tickets. 

Yup, that brief moment is gone. Never existed actually. All I want is to eat croissants and drink champagne and be sitting on a terrace in Paris.

Who am I kidding? I want it ALL and only with one person.

FUCK ME!

"Babe."

I hear someone shouting from the hallway. It sounds like Meg or Trix.

"Emmy, EM!" Shouts come through the crack in the door.

"I'm up," I grumble into the pillow.

Footsteps fade away down the hall. Meg's footsteps.

Somehow, I find the will to roll out of bed, pull on my sundress, and slip into my sandals.

The entire house smells like some continental breakfast buffet dream. My stomach drops. Eating is the last thing on my mind.

Voices drift from the kitchen, where I know everyone is standing around the marble island.

"Left–"

"I don't know. Gone somewhere."

"Course I'm sure."

"–She up?"

I straighten up, apply a thick glossy coat of lip color, fluff up my pony, and stroll into the kitchen. It's like walking into a roomful of deer in headlights.

Brody and Lauren are nearest to me, seated at the island. Then there's Alex and Whit and Nate. Meg closes the fridge as I walk past her.

Trix and Travis are MIA. Good for them.

"Morning." I sigh, trying to sound relaxed. "Any of that killer pineapple left?"

"Here." Meg holds up a tray of freshly cut fruit that's next to the juicing machine.

"Perfect, thanks," I say.

I make sure to look at them all as I shovel fruit onto my plate and as I pour extra almond milk into my gallon-size coffee mug. They don't all cringe and look away. Not the strong ones at least.

"When's your flight, girl," Lauren asks from the breakfast bar.

"What's your flight?" Alex asks, a grin spreading across his lips.

Leave it to Alex to bring it up –to be bold enough to joke about it. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Gotta leave soon." I shrug.

For the most part people stop paying attention to me. Thank GOD.

My sandals clink across the tiled floor. I stop in front of the double-paned French doors that empty into the garden. Focus on the pineapple, Em.

I feel someone stop next to me.

"Emmy." Meg's sharp tone is somehow delicate.

I peer sideways at her, waiting, hoping, and thankful everyone else is out of earshot.

"Brooks is–"

"I know." I cut her off and return my gaze to my plate. Of course, I know.

Brooks is gone.

He told me yesterday, he was leaving. Running away, as he so eloquently put it.

"I didn't know –We didn't know when he left yesterday. I mean, not til this morning." Meg stumbles on her words.

"I know," I tell her again, half smiling.

"He was just gone when we woke up this morning. Room untouched. Seriously everything is there. His clothes and phone." Meg bites her lip.

"It would be," I nod.

Clean break from his life. From me.

The plane ticket tucked in my jean jacket would have me believe otherwise.

Paris.

I exhale pleasantly and open my eyes to see Meg, looking perplexed.

"You seem –great." Meg smiles, relaxing now.

"Do I?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Emmy, you're the best girl I know. Patient and a saint. I mean, don't think we didn't notice. Don't think Brooks's bullshit was lost on all us. It wasn't," Meg assures me.

I think about last night –about Brooks front and center on the dance floor –about his carefree charisma that just makes everyone else want to die for him. Me most of all.

Is it not lost on everyone else?

"Thanks, Meg," I mumble. "Really, it helps a lot."

Meg nudges my shoulder and puts an arm around me, turning me from the garden.

"Then come eat with us. Before you leave," Meg whines. "We'll miss you soon enough."

The rest of breakfast is perfectly normal. Well, my normal. Some hung-over headaches and some recapping of last night's festivities, but overall, not a bad breakfast. And not a single mention of Brooks's departure. Even from Brody. A few times I caught him watching me –his deep eyes full of concern. Their gaze is painstakingly familiar.

Meg is great at the comfort-game, but I do wish I could see Trix one last time. No sooner do I finish my thought do I hear squealing at the front door.

A flash of bright red. A giggle. Trix.

I snap my head to the entryway. Travis is holding a suitcase in each hand, his shades pulled up onto his forehead. Trix dances across the foyer, into the kitchen, wearing a tight little white romper. So bridal. So Trix.

"Who invited the married couple?" Nate laughs.

"Go home," Alex jeers.

"Just came to say au revoir!" Trix beams, plopping down in the seat beside me. Her fishtail braid falls over her shoulder.

She loops her hand through mine and lowers her lips to my ears. "You didn't think I'd leave without seeing you?"

I roll my eyes, feeling truly and incredibly blessed for Trix. Friendship is real.

"T told me this morning. I just can't believe–" Trix starts.

"You're married?" I interrupt. "Me either!"

"Emmy," Trix breathes.

"Trix. Stop. You got married last night and that's all I want to talk about." I run my fingers through her mermaid waves.

"Hmpf," Trix sighs. "I'm going to check in. Every day. I'm going to call you. Every day."

"You better fucking not call me from your honeymoon," I warn, laughing. "I love you, but there are still some things I don't need to be involved in."

"No promises."

Trix pecks me on the cheek and scampers off to join Travis at the kitchen table.