Page 33

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The next morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee.

I felt groggy, furrowing my brows as I tried to blink my heavy eyes open.

The bed was empty beside me, the black-out blinds covering the windows, and the covers tucked around me.

I reached for my phone first, squinting my eyes as I read over my lock screen.

That was the time.

I slept for over twelve hours.

A deep sigh fell from my lips, weirdly wanting to go back to sleep even after how long I slept.

I shouldn't be tired but my eyes just feel so heavy.

But I'm also curious about where Monroe is.

What she's doing.

Last night, she continued handling more of her work while I showered and got into bed next to her.

I ended up falling asleep while watching a random Netflix movie.

Monroe was up until at least two—I vaguely remember waking up to the shower being turned on before I fell back asleep.

I suddenly sat up from the bed, squeezing my eyes shut before fully opening them again.

I slid out of bed, my feet pattering against the cold floor as I walked over to the bathroom.

My curls were a horrendousfucking mess in the mirror, entirely frizzy and all out of place.

I quickly tied my hair up into a bun, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste.

I brushed my teeth for a couple of minutes, spitting out the foamy toothpaste as I rinsed my mouth out.

I was a little cold since I wore one of Monroe's T-shirts with nothing on underneath.

But I also didn't want to change.

I folded my arms over my chest, preserving warmth as I exited the bedroom.

As expected, Monroe was at the dining room table like yesterday—files and papers neatly laid out and her laptop in front of her.

Her silky brown hair was in a bun, her bangs neatly framing her face, wearing a knitted black quarter-zip with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows and matching dark pants.

"Good morning," she spoke first, glancing away from her laptop to meet my stare.

I smiled, "Good morning," I said, approaching her as she held one of her arms out for me.

The action alone made excited knots grow in my stomach.

"How did you sleep?" Monroe asked, guiding me to sit on her leg with my legs between hers.

"Really good," I said, leaning my side into her chest, "I just wish you didn't leave me in bed alone."

Monroe hummed in response, running her arm around my waist, "I didn't want to wake you, darling," she said, reaching over to close her laptop.

"Maybe you should've stayed asleep instead," I suggested, leaning away from her chest to meet her stare, "What time did you wake up?" I curiously asked.

"A little after eight," she said as her blue eyes trailed my face.

"But you were up until at least two," I pointed out with furrowed brows.

Monroe's lips twitched up slightly, "I'm aware, Liberty," she murmured, reaching her other hand up to gently cup my cheek.

"That's not a lot of sleep," I whispered, furrowing my brows deeper as I truly thought about this.

How she barely got enough sleep—at least from what I could tell.

"Work is demanding," Monroe clarified, grazing her thumb against my cheek, "It's nothing for you to worry about."

I pursed my lips as I stared into her eyes, "But I am worried about it," I admitted as she trailed her hand down from my cheek, caressing my neck instead.

I let out a soft sigh as she gently guided me closer to her, wrapping me in a hug as I leaned into her chest.

"Work is fulfilling to me darling," she softly whispered, giving my waist a soft squeeze, "I enjoy working on files late, or waking up early to work on them again."

I pursed my lips, trying to understand her perspective a little more.

"Okay," I whispered, determining that if she enjoyed it then I guess there wasn't much to worry about.

"I made you breakfast," Monroe suddenly told me, her voice soft between us, "It's in the oven."

I pulled away from her with furrowed brows, "In the oven? What is it?" I curiously asked, standing from her leg.

"It's being kept warm," she clarified as I walked over to the kitchen, noticing the oven was on warm mode, "I made it over an hour ago."

I grabbed one of the oven mitts, opening the oven where a skillet was.

As I grabbed it, I noticed the perfectly grilled omelet.

"Be careful," I heard her voice grow closer to me, "The skillet is heavy."

I carefully set the weighted pan down, "I see that now," I said as Monroe opened one of the cabinets to grab a plate for me.

Then she grabbed a spatula, plating the omelet for me.

"What's in it?" I curiously asked as she grabbed a fork and napkin for me.

"You'll have to see," she said, walking over to the dining room table to set my plate down with the fork and napkin.

I sat in the chair she pulled out for me, curiously eyeing the omelet topped with fresh herbs.

As I reached for my fork and began cutting, Monroe watched me—her blue eyes openly trailing my face.

I noticed the thinly sliced tomatoes as I cut into it, poking my fork in the slice I cut off before taking a bite.

That's when I realized it wasn't just tomatoes in the omelet.

There was some kind of cheese—a really good cheese.

It made the omelet creamy and flavorful, making me hum as I chewed a few times.

"That's really good—what is it?" I curiously asked, glancing over to meet her stare already on me.

"Sun-dried tomatoes and ricotta," Monroe told me as I immediately began cutting off another bite.

"I love it," I determined as Monroe backed away from me to walk over to the kitchen.

"Good," she murmured, opening one of the cabinets to grab a glass, "I packed our bags while you were asleep. I left out any necessities and an outfit for you."

My chewing slowed, glancing up from the plate as she approached me with a glass of water, "You... picked out my outfit?" I asked, suddenly imagining her doing such a thing.

"Were you planning to wear my t-shirt home, Liberty?" Monroe asked me, setting the glass of water by my plate.

"No," I said, blinking a few times as an unconscious smile grew on my lips, "I just... I think it's nice that you picked it out for me."

Monroe only hummed in response, gathering the papers and files into a neat stack as I focused on eating again.

After I finished the omelet, I walked back into the bedroom to get dressed for the day.

I felt a little out of place in only a t-shirt while Monroe was already ready.

She had picked out a pair of my black athletic leggings with a smooth matching long-sleeve shirt for me.

A pair of my Nike's were also laid out with a pair of socks.

"I'm surprised you didn't pick out a different outfit," I said as I walked out of the closet fully dressed now.

"Why would I?" Monroe asked me, rolling both our suitcases toward the bedroom door.

I shrugged, "I figured you would pick out something more... fancy," I determined as I walked over to the nightstand, noticing my phone illuminated.

"I would rather pick out something I know you wear, Liberty," she corrected me, turning away from the suitcases toward me, "I want you to be comfortable."

I pursed my lips into a smile at her words, "Well, thank you," I murmured, grabbing my phone vibrating with a call—

From my mother.

I was officially stuck frozen, drawing in a deep breath as I read her caller ID.

Then everything flooded back in—specifically how I ignored her text yesterday.

Maybe that wasn't the best idea.

"Liberty," I heard her voice behind me, snapping my thoughts away from my buzzing phone.

"I-I need to take this really fast," I said, rushing past the bed and toward the glass door before Monroe could say anything else.

I was outside on the back patio before I could process it, staring out at the gloomy grey sky as the ocean waves crashed in the distance.

It soothed me.

Sort of.

But upon swiping my thumb across the screen, any of the calmness I had was gone, answering the call as I pressed the cold phone to my ear.

"Liberty."

Her voice was sharp, clipped—already disapproving before I even had a chance to speak.

I exhaled slowly, unconsciously squeezing my hand into a fist, my nails digging into my skin.

"Mother," I mumbled, staring out at the waves, "How are you? It's only been weeks since you last talked to me," I sarcastically pointed out.

I heard her sigh, like my words genuinely bothered her, rather than her own actions.

"So you do remember how to answer your phone," she decided to say, leaving my words entirely unacknowledged, "I texted you last night."

I squeezed my hand tighter, my palm burning from the roughness of my nails being pressed into it.

She hadn't called to check on me—she never does.

She only called because I had the power to ignore her.

She hated that.

"I've been busy," I suddenly said, unable to prevent my jaw from clenching, "Maybe you would know just how much if you tried to be involved in my life like a real parent."

"Oh, don't start with this," she had the fucking audacity to say.

I scoffed, turning away from the ocean as frustration burned tight in my chest, "With what? The truth? You're not a real mother," I gritted, hoping my words would hurt her as much as this phone call alone had with me.

"Liberty," she warned, her tone dropping into a clear warning that I quickly recognized, "I provide for you. I make sure you have everything you need. If you wanted me involved, you'd answer when I text instead of playing these childish games."

I squeezed my eyes shut, turning back to the ocean, "Right. Because texting me about my credit card is such a heartfelt way to check-in. Thanks so much for that," I sarcastically said, the words stinging my tongue as I tried to blink my tears away.

"Well, I had to check somehow, considering I had no other way of knowing whether you were dead in a ditch somewhere," she said, and half of me sparked from her words alone, thinking she cared.

She doesn't.

I let out a bitter laugh, "Oh, please. You would only care if it made fucking headlines," I bit out, quickly wiping my frustrated tears away, "That's all that ever matters to you."

A tense silence stretched between us as I tried to desperately calm my breathing.

She's just so frustrating—I've never hated someone more.

"I'm coming to Seattle tomorrow."

My stomach immediately dropped at her words, everything stilling around me.

"What? Why?" I suddenly asked, feeling the heaviness of my heart beating in my ears.

"I need to make sure you're not spiraling out of control as usual," she spoke again, her words lacking any warmth, "I refuse to let you create further problems for me and this campaign, Liberty."

I rolled my eyes, "Fuck your campaign. It's all you ever care about," I mumbled, clenching my jaw when more tears burned in my eyes, "You know, I genuinely hate you?"

I heard her scoff on the other end of the line, "I didn't ask to be burdened with a daughter who can't get her shit together, so get in line, Liberty," she said, making more annoying tears burn in my eyes.

"Whatever, bye," I quickly forced out, hanging up on her before she could say anything else.

My throat was tight, warm tears running down my cheeks as I stared forward at the blurry ocean.

I tried to get it together—to not let my mother affect me.

I just didn't want Monroe to see, whether she knew decently about my mother or not.

It was embarrassing.

How much her words still affected me regardless of me swearing I hate her.

It just sucks because she was present.

She was nurturing and warm at one point in my life, and now she's not.

Yet, somehow I can't forget that image of her.

I can't forget who she was to me.

I just want her to be present differently.

I want her to be my mom again.

"Liberty?"

I quickly wiped more of my tears away, "I'm coming," I whispered, refusing to turn around and face her.

I could feel Monroe's presence grow closer making my tears grow worse as I tried to take a few steps further away from her.

I didn't want to cry in front of her like this.

And I had cried numerous times, in so many ways.

But this felt deeper.

This was a pain I normally endured alone.

"Liberty," she softly whispered when I took another step away from her off the patio and onto the sand.

Before I could process it, her hands were on my waist, turning me around to her.

But not so she could look at me or analyze me as she usually would.

Instead, she pulled me into a hug, protectively wrapping her arms around me.

Just like that, my crying grew uncontrollable—wrapping my arms around her waist as I hugged myself closer to her, inhaling her familiar scent.

Monroe placed her hand on the back of my head, holding me closer.

"I hate my mother so much," I whispered, my words broken and almost inaudible, "I don't know why I still expect more. Why her words always hurt."

Monroe's arms tightened around me, "Because you still care," she said, her genuine words making more tears burn in my eyes, "She's your mother. You're allowed to care or expect more from her, Liberty."

I shook my head, "But it's never enough—nothing I ever do is enough. Even if I'm silent," I forced out as more tears fell from my eyes.

"It's not about you darling," Monroe whispered so softly, "It's about her. Her inability to give you what she should."

I sniffled a few times, "But she used to give me so much—she used to be my mom, and then my dad died and it feels like I lost both of them," I said, my words barely audible as my crying grew even worse, suddenly seeing the image of my dad in my head.

His familiar smile and the voice I could barely recall now.

"I'm sorry, Liberty," Monroe told me, her words genuine and lowered between us, making my crying grow worse, "This has nothing to do with you. It's about her. She's projecting her loss onto you."

Her words sunk deeply into me, sniffling as I tried to process them better.

She's right, it doesn't have anything to do with me, but instead my dad.

I always knew it was his death that got to her, but I never thought none of this wasn't my fault.

I assumed I did something to make her hate me.

"You don't deserve this blame," she whispered, caressing her hand against my lower back, "You've done nothing. This will never be on you, darling. It's always on her, okay?"

I nodded a few times, sniffling again, "It's on her?" I whispered almost in question, trying to understand this better.

This is my mother's fault.

I didn't do anything?

"It's on her, Liberty," Monroe said, her words serious yet so soft with me, "You were a child, and you're still her child. It's her responsibility to be your mother, you should never have to make her."

I swallowed, my throat thick with emotion, feeling almost relieved by the tilted perspective Monroe just gave me.

I guess I never viewed it like that.

I always thought it was up to me.

"I know it doesn't make it easier," she spoke again when I was silent, caressing her hand up my back, "But the first step to healing is acknowledging that none of this is your fault. It's all on her hands."

I nodded, letting out a deep breath as I repeated her words in my head.

It's not my fault.

It's all on her hands.

"Thank you," I whispered, letting out a deeper sigh as I relaxed in her arms, "That really helps a lot."

Monroe hummed softly, "I'm always here for you, Liberty," she assured me, her words making something inside me relax deeper.

"Always?" I whispered expectantly, pulling back slightly as I opened my puffy eyes to meet her blue eyes.

Monroe pursed her lips as she eyed my face, reaching up to gently cup my cheek in her hand.

She caressed her thumb against my skin, softly wiping some of my stray tears away.

"Always, darling," she said, staring so deeply into my eyes, "I get you."

I felt my lips unconsciously tilt up at the familiar words.

Words I just said to her yesterday on the beach.

"You get me," I said in response, tilting my head further back as I held her gaze.

Monroe stared down at me, her expression calm and unwavering as she carefully caressed my cheek.

There was something behind her eyes, a deeper thought—a deeper meaning to our words.

The silence between us was brief but lighter than it usually was.

I unconsciously leaned into her touch as she grazed the back of her hand against my skin, making me relax further.

"How does that brownie sound?" she suddenly murmured, making me immediately smile at the idea.

"Amazing, I need it right now," I determined, relaxing under her soft caress.

"And how do you feel darling?" she asked me, her tone softer with concern as her blue eyes trailed my face.

"Better," I determined with a wider smile, holding her stare, "You helped me feel so much better."

Monroe's lips twitched up slightly, "I'm glad I could make you feel better," she said as I pulled away from her slightly to walk back into the house.

But I didn't get far when she gently grabbed my waist, pulling me back closer—

For another hug.

Warmth invaded me from her actions, wrapping my arms back around her as I leaned in closer.

"You really changed my perspective, Monroe," I admitted in a soft whisper, resting my cheek against her chest as I inhaled her familiar scent, "It still sucks that she's coming to Seattle tomorrow though."

Monroe hummed softly, "It does darling," she didn't hesitate to agree with me, "Anything you need. I'm here for you," she reassured me, making me relax a little further.

Especially knowing I would have Monroe's support even with my mother coming into town.

It made me feel much better.

So did the brownie sundae that she took me to get.

There was no rush with her—she sat with me at the familiar ice cream parlor, talking to me as I ate the delicious warm brownie and ice cream.

It was exactly what I needed after that phone call.

So was the two-hour drive, which I actually enjoyed rather than dreaded.

I liked talking with Monroe—I even gave her random what-if scenarios that she hilariously answered.

I was kind of sad when we pulled into the familiar parking garage of my building.

This weekend was officially over and now I'm supposed to go back to reality.

Monroe followed me up to my apartment, handling my suitcase which she later rolled into my apartment and toward my bedroom.

I almost felt like a little kid waiting at the door, anticipating when she would leave and if I would cry.

I weirdly wanted to stay by her side constantly now.

Especially after spending the last two nights with her.

I don't think I've ever felt this way about anyone before.

Maybe Kaia, but the longing was never this intense.

"I've moved your therapy appointment to Tuesday," Monroe told me, her arms around my waist as we stood by the door, "Take tomorrow.Handle everything with your mother, and text me if you need anything."

I nodded almost hesitantly, "Okay... what about our plans? Did you want to do anything tomorrow?" I asked, leaning in closer to her.

"Let's see how tomorrow goes. You might be preoccupied with your mother," Monroe suggested, giving my waist a gentle squeeze when I frowned, "I'll see you tomorrow. I assure you, Liberty."

Her tone was reassuring, and I could tell she sensed my hesitance at the idea of possibly not seeing her.

"Okay," I suddenly said as I reluctantly pulled back from her.

Monroe nodded in response as she reached for the door, opening it to exit my apartment and leave me all alone again.

I stood there for a moment.

A very long moment.

Until I suddenly backed away from the door, walking over to my bedroom to start unpacking.

That was probably the worst part of any trip.

But I got it out of the way, and just in time to head over to Zion and Sarai's for dinner.

Zion grilled burgers while Sarai made mac and cheese with fries.

It made me smile—I guess because of the simplicity of it.

I had been fed various complex meals over the weekend, so it felt like I was getting back to the normalcy of everything.

"This mac and cheese, Sarai," I said as I chewed, pointing my fork at the cheesy macaroni.

"I know right," Zion said as he put some of the mac and cheese on his burger.

"You just have to add your own twist," Sarai laughed, glancing over to her boyfriend as he took a bite of his burger.

"I don't know, that kind of looks good," I said, suddenly picking up my burger to put some of the mac and cheese on it, "Let me test this out."

"Oh and rate it one through ten," Sarai quickly said as Zion nodded, chewing his food a few more times.

"One being the best—ten being out of this world," he purposely said as I leaned over my plate to take a bite of my burger with the mac and cheese.

I hummed as soon as I tasted the different flavors.

The cheesy macaroni was perfect with the cheese on the burger.

I hadn't put any condiments on it yet, so this worked out perfectly for me.

"Easily a ten," I determined, chewing a few times as I nodded in approval.

Sarai dramatically parted her lips, "Oh, I have to try now," she determined, reaching for her burger as I chuckled a few times.

Zion helped her smother some of the macaroni on her burger so she could try a bite.

And as expected, she gave it a ten just like me.

Next, we tried the fries and mac and cheese on the burger, laughing at how insane this was.

But it turned out to be so good.

That's officially how we ate the rest of our food.

Or tried to eat it.

We were full before our plates were fully cleared.

Although, Zion finished his and even stole some of our fries.

It was such a chill night—especially since Sarai and Zion didn't pester me with any questions about what I did this weekend.

Or why I was too busy to text them back...

I could confidently keep everything regarding Monroe to myself without any issues.

But there was one thing I did want to share.

"My mother is coming to Seattle tomorrow."

Zion glanced away from the dishwasher he was loading the dishes into—while Sarai's focus shifted away from the counter she had been wiping down.

It was silent.

Only for a brief moment.

Until Sarai smacked her lips together, "Libs are you okay?" she asked, making everything crumble around me again.

Suddenly I wasn't that confident anymore.

"I know that's gotta be hard," Zion said, closing the dishwasher to walk over to me, "Maris is always on your ass."

I nodded a few times as he hugged me, feeling Sarai join in on our hug.

"Do you need anything from us?" Sarai asked as I let out a deep breath, "You can stay over if you want—we'll sleep out in the living room with you."

I quickly shook my head, "No, you guys don't have to do that," I said, not wanting to bother either of them, "I think I'll be fine... it just sucks I guess."

"It does," Zion said as we all naturally pulled back from the hug, "And with school going on."

"But you'll get through it," Sarai assured me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, "We'll help you."

I smiled slightly at her words, feeling beyond relieved by not just their support, but Monroe's as well.

"Thank you guys," I whispered, glancing between them.

"Of course, Libs. You know we always got you," Zion said, patting my shoulder before pulling me in for another brief hug.

I smiled wider as I briefly hugged him back, reaching over to hug Sarai as well.

"You should come over for breakfast tomorrow," Sarai offered as we pulled away from the hug, "If you can."

I nodded, "I definitely can. Class isn't until twelve and who knows when my mother is flying in," I said, grabbing my keys from the counter.

"Okay perfect," Sarai said with a smile as Zion nodded.

"We'll make french toast," Zion offered, suddenly pointing at me, "The Nutella kind—you know the TikTok you sent me."

I parted my lips with a smile, "Really?" I asked, already thinking about tomorrow morning.

Now I can't wait.

"Yes, we'll go to the store tonight," Sarai said, making me laugh slightly.

"No you don't have to do that," I said, walking over toward the door where my shoes were, "Seriously, it can wait."

"Nope, we're doing it tomorrow—so come hungry," Sarai insisted, making my smile widen.

"Fine," I said, sliding my shoes on, "I'll see you guys tomorrow—love you."

"Love ya," Sarai said.

"Love you, Libs," Zion said right after.

I smiled contently as I exited their apartment, walking down the hallway feeling decently better.

I still dreaded the idea of seeing my mother tomorrow, but besides that, the day seemed like it would be nice.

Especially since I'll be having breakfast with Zion and Sarai.

And possible plans with Monroe.

It shouldn't be too bad, I just have to endure a small amount of time with my mother.

Then I'm good to go.