35. Dia

THIRTY-FIVE

"I have some food for you,"Mads says softly through the door. When I don't answer, just like I haven't for the past four days, she speaks again. "D, you have to eat. I'm coming in."

"It's locked," I say, just as I hear a faint pop and the door swings open. My best friend stands there, food tray in one hand, bobby pin being wielded like a sword in the other. "Come on in," I mumble, turning my back toward her and pulling the covers over my head. The smell of her mom's homemade soup fills the room and my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl as I slap my hand over it like I can muffle the sound.

"Either you eat this on your own or I'll have Blaze hold your mouth open while I pour it in. Choose wisely," she says. I honestly can't tell if she's kidding, so I pull the covers down just enough that she comes into view.

Shit. She's being serious.

I sit up, wincing at the pain in my back from laying here like a potato for the last ninety-six hours. I've only gotten up to use the bathroom and drink water. Yesterday, I went downstairs and tried some crackers, but I couldn't keep them down. Today is a new day and Diane's soup is usually the cure for everything, so it's worth a try.

"Since I know exactly where Blaze's fingers have been, I'll do it myself," I say, taking the steaming bowl from her and setting it in my lap.

"Good choice," she says. "He got pretty creative this morning."

I scoff. "Gross."

She gives me a sympathetic smile, sitting on the end of the bed. "You okay?"

I take a small spoonful, blowing on the hot liquid before giving it a try. My stomach roils a little, but I think I can handle more if I go slow. "I don't know," I reply. "Being away from him feels awful. The longer I lay here, the less my reason for running makes sense. I wish I wasn't like this," I whisper.

"I wasn't completely positive before, but you love him." It's not a question. She's stating a fact that at this point, is painfully obvious. I've been a wreck for the past four days.

"Yeah."

She straightens her back, turning to face me. "Can I ask you a question and you promise to answer it?"

Here we go. She's about to tear me apart. But I deserve it. "I promise."

"You understand that your parents were bad people before they even had you, right? That's why you've never met a single family member of theirs in your whole life." She looks at me, waiting for confirmation.

"Yes," I say, not sure where she's going with this.

"And you understand that Small Dick Josh is now on his second marriage at age twenty-five…an unhappy one by the way, if we're going off of his wife's vague Facebook posts about how men suck. So, you were never the issue in that relationship."

"Okayyyyyyyy," I say, knowing there's more coming.

"So, why do you keep punishing yourself for their bad choices? I've known you almost our whole lives and I've never hurt you. My parents think of you as their own daughter. You're strong, funny, beautiful, resilient, and so many other things that make you impossible not to love. You've never been the problem. And this whole thing with Dalton should prove that to you." My heart beats faster in my chest at the sound of his name. She reaches over and takes the bowl, setting it on the nightstand before scooting up next to me. "He's seen you at your most vulnerable points. He's watched you fight yourself…fight him. And he's still here. He knows everything about you, and the only thing he wants is to build a future with you. To give you the love that you should've had a long time ago. Let him love you, Dia. Start your life over with him and trust him to make this one everything you've ever dreamed of. You're enough. More than enough. You deserve happiness and so does he."

I lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder. "I miss him so much," I say, tears filling my eyes.

"What did you tell me when I left Blaze behind in Boston after Brady lied about me?" I don't answer because I know exactly what I said to her, but now I need to hear her say it to me. "Go get him. You can and will have both a wonderful life with a man who would do anything for you, and still be a bad bitch that can take care of herself. You don't have to choose."

She reaches over for the soup, handing it back to me before kissing my forehead and walking toward the door. "Just think about it," she says, smiling at me before pulling the door shut. She definitely had a lot of good points. I do deserve good things. It's not my fault that I was treated the way I was. And Dalton has shown me how lovable I am with his actions and his words.

I need to talk to him. As I pick up my phone, it rings in my hand. Carrie's name comes up on the screen along with a selfie we took at Benton's hockey game. We're both wearing Davis jerseys with his number 10 on the front and back. I remember Dalton complaining all night that I wore his brother's jersey before I wore his.

I broke her son's heart, so I may as well face the music. "Hello," I say, quietly.

"Hi, sweetie," she replies. "How are you doing?"

I take a breath, getting my emotions in check before I speak. "Carrie, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt Dalton. I?—"

"Dia, I'm calling to check on you. Dalton is a big boy. He'll be okay."

I freeze because my mom has never once called to see how I'm doing. Even after everything I did for her. She knew I was growing up too fast, stressing about adult problems when I was just a kid. But she never, ever stopped to make sure I was okay. She'd call to make sure I was making payments on her restitution, or that there was enough money in my bank account to cover the checks she wrote when she went on her spending sprees or when my dad had gambled all their bill money away. But calling just to check on me? Not a single time.

I realize then that family isn't who you're born to. Family can be found in the least likely of places. This time, it happened to be inside a Vegas wedding chapel. Marrying Dalton gave me a whole new family. One that cares about me.

"I'm good," I tell her, feeling surer about my future than I ever have. My muscles relax and I take a deep breath for the first time in days. "Really good, actually."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better. I was worried about you," she says, and I can almost see her sitting back in her chair, a look of relief melting over her expression.

"I have to go, Carrie," I blurt. "I have somewhere to be. But maybe we can get together soon and hang out."

"Sure, honey. Take care of yourself," she says.

"I will," I reply, a smile blooming across my lips. "And thank you for calling."

"Have a good day, Dia."

I hang up the phone, immediately pulling up the text app.

DIA: Can we talk?

DALTON: Of course. Now? I can call you.

DIA: I was hoping we could do it in person. At the house, maybe? It'll give us some privacy.

DALTON: How about tonight? 7 pm?

DIA: Yeah. Can you bring the divorce papers?

It takes a minute for him to respond, but as I'm pulling clothes out of my suitcase so I can shower, my phone dings again.

DALTON: OK

I head to the bathroom, with clarity and hope for my future for the first time in my life.