All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Eighty-Seven

        Kylie was waiting for me at the airport when I landed back in the United States. The second she locked eyes with me, she swooped in and crushed me with a bear hug. Instantly, I broke down sobbing. I don't know if it was the scent of real hamburgers or maybe the sound of my fellow countrymen talking too loud, but for some reason it sent me over the edge. I also didn't care that I was bawling in front of hundreds of people, half-limp in my best friend's arms.

        "Oh, Jackie," she murmured, cradling my head to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

        "It's my own fault," I cried, my tears soaking her sleeve. "I was so stupid to believe that we had a real friendship."

        "No, no, it wasn't stupid," she whispered comfortingly. "You guys lived together for six months, some of it pretending to be married. I'm surprised you guys weren't closer, honestly."

        "Closer would've been so much worse," I sobbed.

        "I know, Jackie. Let's get you home safe," she said, squeezing me before taking my suitcase and slinging one arm around my shoulders. Miserable, I plodded along next to her. Why did everything hurt? My head hurt, my body hurt, my heart hurt. It all hurt. 

        Kylie, being the best of the best friends in all of history, drove me back to my house. It looked so sad and lonely. She and Nina had been taking care of the place for me, but other than that I'd entirely abandoned it. I felt a twinge of guilt for ignoring my house, even if it was just, well, a house. The sidewalk had been shoveled, but my hanging plants on the front porch were still loaded with snow.

        Fumbling my keys, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, Kylie and the luggage right behind me. My heart sank at the spotlessly clean house awaiting. It was so dry. Dust floated through the air, something Kylie profusely apologized for but I ignored. On the counter was the world's largest cardboard box, overflowing with mail. 

        "I sorted it into junk mail on the bottom," she offered brightly.

        "Thanks," I mumbled, slipping off my coat and boots. Oddly, I didn't feel like I had missed the place. It was like walking into a movie set, or a stranger's place. Clearly a house, but not mine.

        I cleared my throat. "I should unpack," I said coarsely. "Thanks for picking me up."

        "Of course. Call me if you need anything. Like, anything," Kylie said, hugging me again before heading out the front door.

        Lugging my suitcase up the stairs, I flicked on the hall light. Dim. Dimmer than I'd left it. My room was clean, exactly in the state I'd left it in. The closet door was still open from our pit stop in Arlington in the fall.

        I threw my bags on the dresser before falling back on the bed. I had no intention of unpacking. Sleeping, maybe. Crying, definitely. But no unpacking. Not even a shower from the long flight. Probably some staring at the ceiling. Praying that the stomachache would go away. Maybe I'd have a stomachache forever.

        When I woke up, it was dark out. My body had no idea what time it was, thanks to the three countries I'd been in recently, but the alarm clock on my nightstand said it was eight. Rolling over, I pulled the blankets up to my chin and looked at the floor. I never wanted to get up. But I couldn't do that.

        With a massive sigh, I dug my phone out of the comforter and dialed the hospital. They were overjoyed to hear that I was coming into work tomorrow. I wish I could've said that it felt good to know I was going back, but I just felt emptier.