Page 97 of Deliah

“It’s Tommy,” she gasped between sobs. “We had this massive fight. I left.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her. “Babe—how the hell did you even get here?”

“I walked,” she whispered.

“You walked?” I blinked. “Cherry, it’s five in the morning. You walked here alone? In the dark?”

She just nodded, clinging to me like I was the only solid thing in her world. Damion stood frozen in the doorway, rubbing his jaw with a frown that softened into something almost apologetic. “I’ll make her a drink,” he said quietly and disappeared into the kitchen. I led her to the sofa, guiding her slowly. The secondshe sat down, she crumpled. Arms wrapped around herself, legs curled under her like a little girl, she looked nothing like the confident, magnetic Cherry everyone saw on nights out. She broke. Completely.

“We argued all night,” she said through sobs. “I told him I loved him… and he just looked at me. Like I’d said something wrong. He said he didn’t know what he wanted.” Her voice cracked. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

I reached for her hand. “Oh, babe…”

“One whole year, Del. A fucking year of my life—and for what? For him to sit there and not know?”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d been there. Hell, I’d lived it. That aching silence after putting your heart on the line and watching it fall flat. There was no way to sugarcoat it. No quick fix. It was agony. And watching her feel it made me want to punch something.

“Maybe he’s just confused,” I said gently, trying. “I know that doesn’t help, but… sometimes guys are fucking cowards.”

“Confused?” She scoffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “No. Confused is forgetting what to order at Starbucks. This? This is something else. This is him knowing I love him and still choosing not to say it back.”

I swallowed hard, heart twisting for her.

“Why can’t he just love me?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, babe,” I said honestly. “But it’s not you. You’re not the problem. He is.”

She shook her head, tears streaming again. “I gave him everything. And he still made me feel like I was too much. Or not enough. Or both.”

“Cherry, listen to me,” I said, gripping her hand tighter. “This isn’t you. Don’t let him make you feel like this. You are smart, beautiful, and strong as hell. You’ve been through worse than this and come out shining. Don’t let some emotionally constipated man break you.”

She laughed through a sob. “Emotionally constipated. Jesus.”

Damion reappeared with a glass of water, placing it down quietly on the coffee table. His eyes lingered on Cherry for a second—concern flickering behind them. They’d had their differences, sure. But he’d known her almost as long as I had. And despite the bickering, I knew he cared.

Cherry sniffed. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “You want anything stronger?”

She paused. Then turned to me with a slow, shaky smile. “You know what, Del? You’re right.” She looked up at Damion. “Where’s the strong stuff?”

He gave me a look. I gave him one back, half warning, half just roll with it.

“Top shelf,” he said finally, turning back towards the kitchen.

“Oh god,” I muttered under my breath, reaching for a blanket to throw around her. “Here we fucking go.”

She laughed again, the sound raw but real this time. “If I’m going to cry, I might as well cry drunk.”

I sat beside her, tucking her in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me again.

“I’m sorry I ruined your morning,” she said softly.

“Don’t be stupid. You could bang down my door at 3 a.m. in a thunderstorm and I’d still let you in. You’re my girl.”

“I just… I really thought he was the one.”

“I know.”