“Can you help Sydney move?” I sign. “Today?”

Warren lowers his chin at my request, eyeing me with disappointment. “Today? Her apartment won’t be ready for three more days. Besides, she needs furniture, and what we ordered this morning isn’t even being delivered until the day she moves in.”

I pull my wallet out of my pocket and remove my credit card. “Take her to a hotel, then. I’ll pay for her room until her apartment is ready. I need her out in case Maggie comes back. She can’t be here.”

Warren takes my card and stares at it for several seconds before bringing his eyes back to mine. “This is kind of a shitty move considering this is your fault. Don’t expect me to be the one to ask her to leave today. You owe her that much.”

I have to admit, Warren’s reaction surprises me. Yesterday he seemed to hate Sydney. Today he’s acting as if he’s protecting her. “I already told her I need her to leave today. Do me a favor, and make sure she gets moved in okay this week. Get her anything she needs. Groceries, extra furniture, whatever.”

I’m beginning to stand up when the door to Sydney’s room opens. She’s walking out backward, pulling both of her suitcases. Warren scrambles to his feet next to me, and as soon as she turns around and her eyes lock with mine, she freezes.

The guilt over what I’m having her do hits me when I see the tears in her eyes. She doesn’t deserve this. She hasn’t done anything to deserve all that I’ve put her through. The way it makes me feel to know I’ve hurt her is exactly why I need her to leave, because I shouldn’t care this much.

But I do. God, I care about her so much.

I break eye contact with her and look back to Warren. “Thank you for helping her,” I sign. I head back to my room, not wanting to watch Sydney walk out the front door. I can’t imagine losing both her and Maggie in the course of a few hours, but it’s actually happening.

Warren grabs my arm as I pass him, forcing me to turn and look at him. “You aren’t even going to tell her good-bye?” he signs.

“I can’t tell her good-bye when I don’t really want her to leave.” I continue toward my room, thankful that I can’t hear the sound of the front door closing behind her when she leaves. I don’t know if I could take it.

I pick up my phone and lie down on my bed. I pull up Maggie’s number and send her a text.

Me: I’ll give you however much time you need. I love you more than you even realize. I’m not going to deny anything I said to Sydney, because it was all true, especially the parts about you and how much I love you. I know you’re hurt, and I know I betrayed you, but please. You have to know how much I’ve fought for you. Please don’t end us like this.

I hit the send button and pull the phone to my chest.

Then I fucking cry.

Chapter Twenty One

Sydney

“Let me get those,” Warren says as he bends to pick up my suitcases. He carries them down the steps, and I follow him. Once we make it to his car, I realize I don’t even know where I’m going. I haven’t thought this far ahead. As soon as Ridge told me he needed me to leave today, I just packed my things and walked out without even a plan for what I’m going to do for the next three days. My new apartment isn’t ready, but I’m wishing I could be in it. I want to be as far away as I can get right now from Ridge and Maggie and Warren and Bridgette and Hunter and Tori and everything and everyone.

“Ridge wants me to take you to a hotel until your apartment is ready, but is there anywhere else you’d rather go?”

Warren is now sitting in the driver’s seat, and I’m in the front passenger’s seat. I don’t even remember our getting into his car. I turn and look at him, and he’s just staring at me. The car hasn’t even been cranked yet.

God, I feel so pathetic. I feel like a burden.

“It’s laughable, isn’t it?” I say.

“What?”

I gesture to myself. “This.” I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes. “I should just go back home to my parents. I’m obviously not cut out for this.”

Warren sighs. “Not cut out for what? College? Real life?”

I shake my head. “Independence in general, really. Hunter was right when he told me I’d be better off living with him than on my own. He was right about that, at least. I’ve been in Ridge’s life less than three months, and I’ve successfully ruined his entire relationship with Maggie.” I look out the window, up to his empty balcony. “I’ve also ruined his entire friendship with me.”

Warren cranks the car, then reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Today is a really bad day, Syd. A really, really bad day. Sometimes in life, we need a few bad days in order to keep the good ones in perspective.” He lets go of my hand and backs out of the parking spot. “And you’ve made it this long without having to go back to your parents. You can make it three more days.”

“I can’t afford a hotel, Warren. I spent my savings on furniture and the deposit for the new apartment. Just take me to the bus station. I’ll go stay with my parents for a few days.” I pick up my phone in order to bite the bullet and call them, but Warren pulls it out of my hands.

“First of all, you need to stop blaming yourself for what’s happening with Ridge and Maggie. Ridge is his own person, and he knows right from wrong. He was the one in the relationship, not you. Second, you need to allow Ridge to pay for this hotel, because he’s the one making you leave without a notice. As much as I love the guy, he sort of owes you big-time.”

I watch the empty balcony as we drive away. “Why do I feel like I’ve been taking Ridge’s handouts since the day I met him?” I look away from the balcony, feeling the anger building in my chest, but I don’t even know who I’m mad at. Love, maybe? I think I’m mad at love.

“I don’t know why you feel the way you do,” Warren says, “but you need to stop. You’ve never asked any of us for a single thing.”

I nod, trying to agree with him.

Maybe Warren is right. Ridge is just as guilty in this as I am. He’s the one in the relationship. He should have asked me to leave as soon as he knew he was developing feelings for me. He also should have given me more than five minutes to move out. He made me feel like more of a liability than someone he’s supposed to care about.

“You’re right, Warren. And you know what? If Ridge is paying, I want you to take me to a really nice hotel. One with room service and a minibar full of tiny bottles of Pine-Sol.”

Warren laughs. “That’s my girl.”


Ridge

It’s been seventy-two hours.

Three days.

Enough time for me to come up with even more things I need to say to Maggie. Enough time for Warren to let me know that Sydney is finally in her own apartment. He wouldn’t tell me which one, but that’s probably for the best.

Seventy-two hours has also been enough time for me to realize that I miss having Sydney in my life almost as much as I miss Maggie. And it’s enough time to know that I’m not going another day without talking to Maggie. I need to know that she’s okay. I’ve done nothing but pace this apartment since the moment I lost her.

Since the moment I lost both of them.

I pick up my phone and palm it for several minutes, too scared to text her. I’m afraid of what her response will be. When I finally do type out a text, I close my eyes and hit send.

Me: Are you ready to talk about it?

I stare at my phone, waiting for her to respond. I want to know if she’s okay. I want to be able to tell her my side. The fact that she’s more than likely thinking the worst is killing me, and it feels as if I haven’t been able to breathe since she found out about Sydney and me.

Maggie: I’ll never be ready, but it needs to be done. I’m home all night.

As ready as I am to see her, I’m also scared to death. I don’t want to see her heartbroken.

Me: I’ll be there in an hour.

I grab my things and head straight out the door—straight back to the half of my heart that needs the most mending.

* * *

I have a key to her place. I’ve had a key to her place for three years, but I haven’t had to ring her doorbell in all that time.

I’m ringing her doorbell right now, and it doesn’t feel right. It feels as though I’m asking permission to break through an invisible barrier that shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I take a step away from the door and wait.

After several painfully long seconds, she opens the door and makes brief eye contact with me as she steps aside to let me in. I pictured her on the drive over with her hair a mess, makeup smudged underneath her eyes from all the crying, and sporting three-day-old pajamas. The typical heartbroken attire for a girl who just lost all trust in the man she loves.

I think I would rather she looked the way I pictured her than how she actually looks. She’s dressed in her typical jeans, and her hair is neatly pulled back. There isn’t a smudge of makeup on her face or a tear in her eyes. She gives me a faint smile as she closes the front door.

I watch her closely, because I’m not sure what to do. Of course, my first instinct is to pull her to me and kiss her, but my first instinct probably isn’t the best. Instead, I wait until she goes into her living room. I follow her, wishing more than anything that she would turn toward me and throw her arms around me.

She does turn to face me before she takes a seat, but she doesn’t throw her arms around me.

“Well?” she signs. “How do we do this?” Her expression is hesitant and pained, but at least she’s confronting it. I know this is hard for her.