Chapter 57: Winner, Winner, Time is Thinner

*Joe's POV*

There wasn't much I remembered about yesterday, even when no alcohol was blinding my memory. My mind was consumed with all the time and experiences I should've had, and did for a little, but missed with Willa and Delphine. Holidays were split or doubled for the most part, and it was me mainly traveling to them to London. That was their new permanent home after all, despite them both being born and spending the majority of their life before the divorce in the States.

Delphine was young, only a one-year-old baby, when our whole world changed. Willa was young too, two years older than her sister, but she reacted much differently. Especially when she continued to grow with questions and observing her peers' family dynamics. She was more sensitive, like me. Everything affected her harder, more personal. I just learned how to camouflage it in different ways for my own sanity, unless the circumstance was stronger than my ability to control stowing it away temporarily.

Last night was my controlled fix. My purposeful sexualized posts going viral. All the positive attention drawing to me. And a shit ton of alcohol that encouraged thoughtlessness dancing within the crowd. No talks about my time in London that reminded me exactly why old habits arose.

My head pounded, as if the bass of the music from last night had been sucked in. The cold wooden vinyl flooring combatted against my body heat, my bed bringing me no comfort as I glanced up at it from where I laid.

Rolling over, I grabbed my phone next to me, along with a small trashcan and a half-empty bottle of water. Surprisingly, my phone hadn't died sometime in the night without it ever connecting to a charger. Most texts were from friends praising me on breaking the internet with my Instagram posts. Even in my nauseating and excruciating hangover, my lips curled into the tiniest of a smirk, each thirsty comment boosting my ego.

Then my gaze darted up to the top of my screen as an incoming text came through, my smirk immediately vanishing while the nausea replenished: Hey. Can you call me? We need to talk. Today. Please don't ignore this text too.

"Joe," Mikey's voice rushed in the bedroom, not even bothering with a curtesy knock beforehand, "Hey, man. I'm sure you feel like shit, but we've got to be at the airport in an hour."

I groaned in response, digging my face into my pillow as I lowered my phone to the floor with my hand still grasping it, "I hate my life."

"Alright. C'mon," he grabbed ahold of my arm in an attempt to pull me up, "Maybe we don't drink as much next time."

He managed to do so to the point of sitting me upright before I pushed his hand off my arm and squinted up at him, "I'm up. I'm up. Just give me a minute."

"I'll brew you your favorite cup of Joe," he winked as he stopped at the doorway, "It'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."

I gave him a thankful nod before he headed out, closing the door behind him. The weight of my muscles begged me to lie down on the floor, but I knew if I gave in, I wouldn't be able to get back up.

When I brought my phone up to view using the remainder of my strength I had left, I read Natalia's text once more before dialing her number. My eyes closed while I pinched the bridge of my nose, my fingers alleviating some of the pain with the pressure, as it rang in my ear.

Her voice cut in the middle of the third ring, "Do you really want this?"

"What?" my eyebrows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"Is this what you want?" she slightly reworded it, a firm frustration in her tone, "Truly?"

"Want what?" I asked, massaging my thumb right where the line my eyebrows made in the middle, "I really have no idea what you're talking about. Wait, this isn't about my posts, is it? It's a thing with our fans. Every year they look forward to seeing what costume I chose. It's just...It's a Halloween thing. It's the best way I can describe it."

"I couldn't give two shits on what Sara, Sally, and Samantha comment on your posts. The one thing I know you're not is a cheater," her words shook, but clung onto adamancy, "I should know because you already played a lot of games with me. I need to know this isn't another one of your games. You got what you wanted. You finally won me. So I'm asking again. Do you want this? Us?"

"Yes, yes of course I do," I lowered my hand and opened my eyes to fetch the bottle of water next to me, "Is this because I didn't have that much time to talk to you yesterday? I was on a long flight, and then was surrounded by my friends—"

"You had time," she bluntly cut me off, "You were on your phone the majority of the day since you landed. I saw all the memes you shared throughout on your story, and your posts, all the while completely ignoring my messages. Honestly, it doesn't feel like you want to be in it anymore. I want that assurance too. That you're in it just as much as me. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Okay, yeah. I had time," I sighed, uncapping the water bottle to take a swig to wash down the bile wanting to rise up my throat, "I'm sorry. I am all in. You are what I want. But all the questions, I just—"

I deliberately paused, gulping down a smaller sip. I still didn't want to remember, the throb in my heart matchless to the throb in my head. That hangover migraine wasn't permanent. The constant poking at my badly bruised and bloodied heart was.

"You just what?" Natalia inquired, "You thought I'd forget all about it if you never answered, like it would go away if you acted like whatever happened never did?"

"Yeah," I whispered aloud as I stared at one of the bottom legs of the bed, not because anything about it was interesting in any capacity. My gaze left the wooden leg with wearied thoughts, "Do you think you can travel with me? Just for like a day or two. I know you have physical therapy you can't miss."

"Joe," she breathed out, "I don't know. Traveling would take a lot out of me."

"I'll carry all your bags," I quickly put my phone on speaker and looked up last-minute flights, gaining the strength I thought I didn't have to stand up and walk into the master bathroom, "I can fly to Boston in forty-five minutes. From there, I can pick you up and then we'll have an hour before the flight to Chicago. It'll be tight, but we'll still get there on schedule. I'll even push you in a wheelchair the whole time."

"Push me in a wheelchair while carrying our bags?" she questioned with a scoff, "I don't think that's going to work."

"I'll make it work," my finger hovered over the flight confirmations, "Nat, please. I really, really need you right now." 

"Okay," she quietly accepted seconds before my finger booked the flights, "But you need to trust me too. I want you to be able to talk to me. I can't be there for you if you don't."

"Okay," I lowly replied, the anxiousness of anticipating a vulnerable conversation creeping up.

"Okay," she copied me, but with much more confidence.

Any other woman would've run away, giving me no second chances or an opportunity for an explanation. I knew these emotions would be hard to convey out loud, but it wasn't just me I was hurting anymore. Natalia wasn't someone I could hurt, at least never intentionally.