When New York and London Collide

Chapter 30

Celine Haufftner

After I was discharged the next day, I made sure to vacate from Liam's apartment. There was no way I was staying with him, I wanted nothing more to do with him.

He was there. Waiting for me. How dare he, look at me with the same amount of hurt my eyes held, when he was the one who betrayed me and lied to me. I shoved all my things carelessly into my luggage, all while wondering how we had gotten to this point in our relationship. I wiped the stray tear away with my palm as I stopped to take a deep breath.

Nearly a month ago I had entered New York with so much joy and anticipation. I was beyond excited that I would be able to spend every minute of every hour of every day with him. And now, I couldn't even stand to be next to him. I couldn't even stand being in this apartment. I had to get out before his scent, the memories made in every inch of this apartment, suffocated me. I refused to let my heartbreak and pain consume me whole, even if it did feel like I was already drowning.

I left without a word, and he knew better than to hold me back. Hailing a taxi, I decided to book a room in a hotel for now. I bought a one way ticket to New York because I wasn't sure when I'd want to go back. But, now, even with the revelation of everything, I still didn't feel like going back to London. Not yet. I wanted some time to myself, give myself the opportunity to heal.

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I took a long and much needed nap as soon as I checked into the hotel. I needed another outlet other than my tears, which seemed to be drying up. I hadn't cried since before I slept, which was good. I was determined to never shed a tear for him again.

I loved him, and there was no denying that. I was in pain, so much of it, no denying that either. But I wouldn't succumb myself to it. I'd gotten out of each of my breakups stronger and tougher, and I'd do the same for this, no matter how difficult.

Getting out of the bed, I decided that, since I had nothing to do, I would go out. Choosing a simple black dress and comfortable sneakers from my heap of clothes, I walked to the lobby where I wondered where exactly to go. The park? No, I'd just remember all the picnics we had. A lump formed, but I sucked every tear that threatened to fall back.

I'm stronger than this, I chanted. I had to be.

A few minutes later, I walked to the left of the lobby where the bar was. I figured alcohol would be one of the best companions in times like this, and it wouldn't hurt to get a drink or two.

I sat in front of the bartender and ordered a martini, my favourite. I gulped down the first, then the second, then the third. Before I even realised it, my salty tears mixed with the alcohol. Damn you heart. I was already crying again. I kept drinking, and drinking, and drinking. I drank so much to the point where I couldn't distinguish if the burn was a result from my excessive drinking or crying.

By the time I reached the bottom of my sixth glass, I got up. I had never been great at the whole "not getting drunk" thing, and certainly not after 6 drinks. Wobbling, I slowly made my way back into the room after paying. It wasn't my idea of a fun night out activity, but it helped in numbing me.

But what I desperately needed was to listen to some Taylor swift songs and cuddle in my bed. Shaking the contents out of my bag, I searched for my phone when I winced at the contact of something sharp. I picked it up and remembered. It was the wedding invite. A flood of emotions washed back as I recalled what I had been daydreaming about, but I pushed them all away. I was close to ripping the invite to pieces until I thought of an idea.

It was wild, but I was never fond of doing things that were safe. Especially after alcohol, I was prone to doing anything. Rationality had been thrown out of the window and in its stead was insanity. Sobering up slightly, I tucked the invite safely into my bag. I'd put the plan into action tomorrow, maybe a day later. For now, I opened Spotify and wrapped myself in the comfort of both the blanket and the singing of my favourite artist.