♫ But I don't feel nothing
Trying so hard to get over you ♪
{Clairo—Feel something}

After receiving her advance check, Coralie nearly fainted. Delilah claimed she was going to upgrade their living situation if this was the kind of money Coralie would be making. Bella applauded.

Coralie then took a drastic action. She called the bar and put in her immediate resignation, to which they laughed. "You're never here, anyway, so we already found you a replacement," said the owner, sounding as shady and shitty as he had since the day Coralie had interviewed with him.

"Good fucking riddens," said Coralie, hanging up the phone and smelling smoke in her nostrils; a regular and residual scent in the bar after-hours. Well, she'd never smell that again; at least, not in that capacity.

With her schedule freed—Nikita had told her to take a few days off—Coralie begged Delilah and Bella to come away with her for a trip up to Providence. It was a less than four-hour drive, and she'd reserved a cute cottage timeshare that had become available last minute. It had gorgeous views, was close to the beach; and though it was currently the end of winter and fairly cold, walks on the sand with wind in their hair would do them all well.

"I can't," Delilah said, making a face. "I've been dipping out of work early, lately," she gaped towards her bedroom, where Bella was, and blushed, "and Dad caught on to it. If I try to take time off he'll murder me." She rubbed Coralie's back and offered a weak smile. They were scarfing down pizza in the kitchen, during Delilah's brief lunch-break. Bella was already packing and calling a rental car company. "But you two should go. Bond, spend some time together. I feel bad, I..." Delilah bit her lip. "I sort of took her away from you, didn't I?"

Coralie pinched Delilah's cheek affectionately. "You did, but I don't hate you for it. She's your girlfriend." Coralie flinched, because she still wasn't used to referring to her two best friends as a couple, no matter how supportive she was of their relationship.

She'd made the reservation for that night, and knew they could swing it. If Bella couldn't find them a last-minute car, they'd hop on a last-minute flight; there were plenty of those between New York and Providence.

"Okay, well take my girlfriend on a nice trip, would you?" Delilah shoved a few more bites into her mouth, wiped her greasy lips with a napkin, and closed the pizza box. "Make sure she doesn't run off with some hipster hottie, though, please." Her tamed eyebrows turned inward as she stole a glance towards her bedroom, where Bella was fussing over what clothes to bring. She'd transported two massive suitcases with her from England—which should have nudged Coralie into seeing her arrival had more meaning than rescuing Coralie from her mistakes.

"I heard that!" Bella's voice was muted, but she tipped to the side and waved at Coralie and Delilah in the kitchen. "And I found us a car, so hurry up and get packed, Cora!"

"I gotta go." Delilah planted a kiss on Coralie's cheek. "Take care of her. Don't let her drive."

Against Delilah's wishes, Bella did drive. She complained the whole time—"damn these Americans driving on the wrong side of the bloody road!"—but their ride was smooth and had great gas mileage.

The cottage was tucked away, near the Providence River, with access to Barrington Beach and with the Nayatt Point Lighthouse in the distance. The bedrooms were cozy as promised, the fridge filled with fresh fruit and veggies, and the wine-cellar—made available by the cottage's owner—stocked with delicious vintages. It was exactly what Coralie needed; a sweet getaway, not too far from home, but far enough to provide her with the space she required from reality.

As it turned out, Bella had needed the time off, too. She was exhausted, because she'd revealed a few days ago that she intended to move to New York—which had shocked Coralie beyond words. A firm Englishwoman—even more British than Ryan—she'd always criticized America and its inhabitants. Their eating habits, their lifestyles, their stupid preference for American football over soccer.

"But this is what happens when one falls in love, eh?" she'd said to Coralie, after the revelation. Delilah hadn't been home, but she was already aware, and made Bella tell Coralie in person.

Now, they wandered along the beach, bundled in coats and beanies and gloves, taking in the fresh, salty air.

"So you're sure?" Coralie took Bella's hand and squeezed it. Her own fingers were stiff from the cold, and the motion helped her reanimate them. "About moving here?"

"I'm sure." Bella smiled; her cheeks were flushed, and the tip of her nose was red. "But that's also why I needed this little adventure. I've been so stressed about finding an apartment, figuring out how to ship all my things over here, or if it'd be better to sell everything and start anew. Moving is hard—moving overseas is a nightmare. You would know."

Coralie shrugged and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "It was forever ago; I barely remember."

"You don't even sound English anymore," said Bella, poking her with her elbow. "Only when you've had a bit to drink, I noticed. Your accent... poof! It vanished, didn't it?"

"At first, I forced it to fit in." She peered towards the lighthouse on the horizon, enjoying the sky's colors shifting from baby blue to navy. The smears of purple and pink and orange blended into a giant palette looking like someone had smashed a grapefruit onto it. "I was young—I didn't realize it was hip to have an accent. So with all the forcing, I guess I lost it? Shame, right?"

"Never." Bella hooked their arms and sighed. "Never be anything other than yourself. And if you lost your accent, no matter why or how, you're still you. Coralie Amber Watson," she grinned, "international performer, stellar singer songwriter, breaker of hearts."

"Hey!" Coralie tapped her arm. "I retired the breaking hearts part, remember?"

"Oh, you'll break more." Bella winked. "I don't doubt it."

Coralie gulped; the atmosphere around her was making her nauseous. The seagulls squawking overhead, the waves lapping over the sand, the lights flickering in the distance, downtown—all reminded her why she'd come here.

Heartbreak. My heartbreak.

"When did you realize you were ready for something new?" Coralie removed her arm from under Bella's and tucked her hands under her armpits. "Like, how many heartbreaks did it take for you to see that maybe you were the problem?"

Bella scowled. "I'm not the problem. I never was. No matter how many heartbreaks—and there were many. And you," she wrapped her arm around Coralie, "you're not the problem, either. Trust me, love."

"Okay, but..." Coralie licked her lips. They were chapped, and she'd left her Chapstick in her purse, in the car. "You soon decided to date... women. Other genders. What brought you towards that? When did you realize you were pansexual?"

Coralie was firmly straight, despite her recent experience with a woman. Yet she sometimes wondered if she should diversify her options. Maybe her issue was with men and how they manipulated her so easily. Would she have better luck with a like-minded woman, or someone carefree and spirited who identified as neither gender?

"Oh, that." Bella's arm returned to her side. "In the past few years, though I've thought of it for a long time. I had escapades with women way before I understood what it meant. My official coming out was more recent. Mum and Dad took it well." The ghost of a smile left her lips. "I thought it was a phase. That I explored my sexuality with women and other genders as a means to get to know myself. Never thought I'd want to end up with a woman, but Delilah..." the smile returned, and redness not caused by the cold spread up to her temples. "She did something to me."

"Oh, that's Delilah, for you." Coralie giggled, shaking her head. "She does something to every person she meets."

"She's a challenge, eh?" Bella scrunched her nose. "But she's sweet, and caring—"

"—whoa," Coralie stopped walking, "are we talking about the same Delilah? The one I know is a sassy lady who packs a punch and kicks bad boys in the groin while blowing them kisses."

At that, Bella cackled. "Oh, she's fierce. I'll never deny that. When we first started chatting, she shared her experiences with me, and oh, my, what a list she had. I thought my sexual resume was big!" She adjusted her beanie when a gust of wind pushed her backwards. The sun had nearly set, and the temperature was dropping. "And then her stories of defiance, of making a name for herself in her father's biased business, of never letting anyone step on her toes... tiny she may be, but that ego is large." Bella exhaled, shrinking as she fluttered her eyelashes. "And I love it."

Coralie pretended to gag. "Ew, you're so into each other it's disgustingly romantic."

"We are." It was Bella's turn to stop, and she flipped to Coralie and seized her by the forearms. "It's serious, Cora. I think we're... what do they call it here? Oh, right. End-game." Her grip was strong, close to cutting off Coralie's circulation. "My therapist thinks so."

"Why are you still talking to your therapist, then?" Coralie tried to wriggle out of her friend's grasp, and Bella gasped as she realized how tight she'd been holding her. "Ugh, thanks. But tell me; why consult a psychiatrist if you're all better?"

Bella cocked her head side to side. "Let's call it tying up loose ends. Once I'm moved here, he'll no longer be available to me, anyway, so I'll have to cut ties with him. And that'll be a whole other adventure; I've been seeing this guy for nearing a decade, now."

Coralie had known Bella was in therapy, but not for this long. She'd been through a lot—her parent's traumatizing and public divorce, an abusive brother, several sexually violent boyfriends, a failed engagement, severe financial troubles. It was time for this poor woman to thrive, and Coralie's heart warmed to know she'd found her equal in Delilah. Delilah, who'd also endured her fair share of difficulties, and who could relate to Bella better than anyone else.

"I'm happy for you, both of you." Coralie drew Bella into her arms and held her tight, reveling in the light lilac perfume she wore. "And I hope one day to figure my shit out and feel the same thing you do, find that end-game person."

Something pinched at Coralie's heart; she had found the end-game guy, but she'd ruined it. She'd found several options, and trampled them all. Michael—the perfect man, and she'd damaged their perfect possibilities. Even Chester might have been the right one, if she'd relaxed a little and took more risks.

And Ryan might have been her soulmate, had he given her more time, and had she figured out how much she favored him over everyone else; but their separation was for the best, she knew. They'd have destroyed each other in the long-run—he'd always need to seek something else, wouldn't he? He'd never be satisfied with what he had, and he'd proven that by straying from Gemma, a wonderful woman who'd given him a dream life. That hadn't been enough. Coralie wouldn't have been enough, either.

Bella pulled away and held Coralie's shoulders, putting their foreheads together. "You will, darling. I wouldn't give up, not yet. Ryan was a letdown and a mess up, I know. Chester was... let's call him a side-quest, yeah? And Michael... well, he's not gone for good, not yet. And if he is, I guarantee there's another Michael out there for you. There has to be."

"When? Where?" Coralie sniffled, and realized her nose had halfway frozen.

"Don't be in such a hurry, hm?" Bella tucked a few hairs behind Coralie's ears and caressed her cheek. "Clearly, you're scared of love. You've shown that by shielding yourself behind Ryan and Chester, using your attraction to them to avoid the fact that Michael... Michael's the one you had deeper feelings for. The one who had promise. That promise frightened you, didn't it?" Coralie cringed, wrinkled her nose, and nodded. "Ah, see? You're already figuring things out."

Bella always made such sense. Even in their younger years, while she partied and drank everyone else under the table, Bella's advice had been sound and she'd seemed so mature, so wise beyond her years.

"Come," Bella linked their arms again, "don't let it trouble you anymore tonight. Sleep on it, okay? In the meantime, let's get back to the car and drive to the cottage. I saw some fixings for a hearty soup that I could make, and those wine bottles have our names written all over them."

♥♥♥