Page 231 of Love Unwritten

Hey. I missed talking to you today. Call me when you get a chance? I’ll try to stay up.

I wish I were strong enough to call her, but my insecurities dominate my thoughts, turning them toxic with every passing minute.

You’re better than this, I remind myself.

Thing is, I thought I was, but it only took one photo to remind me of how fucked up I became because of Hillary’s affair.

Pushing Ellie away won’t solve your issues.

But I still do it anyway.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Ellie

My phone buzzing makes my heart stutter. Rafael didn’t answer my text earlier asking for him to call me, which only adds to my anxiety about the photo posted by the paparazzi.

I expect to find a new message from him, only to have my anxiety replaced with disgust at Ava’s old contact name popping up.

AVA

I’m suspecting you had something to do with Phoebe and Cole breaking up.

She attached the same photo of Cole and me that has been circulating on the internet and social media apps.

Bile crawls up my throat as I check her next message.

AVA

Should have known you had a thing for taken men. Must be those daddy issues acting up again.

I want to reply with something awful, but confronting Ava after a message like that feels like a loss. She will always have this warped perception of me, and nothing I say or do will change that.

Angry tears spring to my eyes, and my body vibrates from a rage so potent, I’m afraid I might pop a blood vessel from the pressure building inside my head. The urge to take the pain away overwhelms me, and my fingers itch for something sharp to grab.

I search my checked bag for the one item I keep hidden deep within an interior pocket. My fingers shake as I grip the sliver of the old mirror and pull it out.

Staring at my reflection feels like taking a punch to the chest, and another strong wave of emotions hits me.

Anger. Sadness. Fear. They all swirl together, creating a tornado of turmoil inside me. My hold on the mirror fragment tightens as I lose grip on reality.

Ava’s message replays in my head, along with the sound of Rafael’s voicemail, creating a symphony of sadness.

I point the jagged edge of the mirror at my thigh only to stop when the sharp tip hovers beside the quote I had tattooed years ago.

This too shall pass.

I take a deep breath and tell myself that physical pain doesn’t take away the emotional kind. That I will only feel worse in the end if I let my demons win.

You don’t need the mirror.

I toss the sliver to the floor and fall back on my bed with a sob. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but eventually I begin to practice the strategies my therapist taught me. Deep breaths. Focusing on my five senses. Naming restaurants that start with the letter A all the way to Z.

It takes me longer than usual, but once I calm down, I call Rafael again. When my call goes to voicemail, I’m filled with a fresh wave of disappointment that threatens to consume me, but I focus on counting the stars tattooed on my thighs.

Once I’m no longer hyperventilating, I forward my lawyer the messages from Ava. Ms. Copper replies by telling me that Ava will regret saying that.

I try to call Rafael once more, but it goes directly to voicemail. It hurts like hell to know I’m being punished for something that was out of my control.