Riley glanced up, not wanting to believe who it was approaching her. At first she didn't protest when he hugged her, apologizing. Something ignited inside Riley and she shoved Alex off her. "Don't even!" She said, raising her voice. She brought her hand back and slapped his face, stinging her hand. "What the fuck, Alex?" She said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Where were you? I've tried for nearly a week to call you, but you disappeared off the face of this damn planet!" She said, practically screaming now. "I needed you! I needed my best friend around! But you weren't around!" She said, choking on her words. She turned back to where they were finishing the final touches on Oliver's mark. She turned her head back to him, her eyes cold and icy.

Thunder rumbled in the sky and the first drops of rain fell down, growing heavier. She glared at Alex a few more seconds, not saying a word. "I guess I can't count on you, can I?" She said, her voice like ice. Without another word, and dripping wet, she stormed past him and got into her truck, starting it up and speeding out of the cemetery entrance, it wasn't long before she reached her apartment complex. She came to an abrupt stop and got out, slamming her truck door, and stormed into her loft. She threw her purse and keys down, tears streaming her voice. She stomped over to her paintings and began going through, tearing every one that had Alex in it. She stopped at her most recent one- him sitting in the coffee shop the day she first seen him after all these years. Breathless with anger, she punched the middle of the painting, ripping it to pieces.

Riley laid out on the couch a couple hours later, an empty bottle of vodka laid by the couch. She was really feeling it, unable to stand because of the alcohol in her system. She had changed into a pair of shorts and a white camisole, her hair down and in pretty waves. Her eyes were black from her running make-up and ready and puffy. She had pieces of her paintings she destroyed laying out everywhere, along with some broken glass. Her engagement ring rested on the coffee table beside the couch. She lay in silence, her vision cloud and fuzzy, staring at the ring and thinking of Oliver. Her Oliver. She stood up off the couch, stumbling in the process, heading to the fridge, grabbing out some wine. The vodka hadn't done anything to erase her memories, she needed more, she needed to be taken out of this world if only temporarily, so she popped open the cap and poured her a glass, her hands shaky, spilling wine everywhere. She picked the glass up and finished it all in one gulp, helping herself to another glass.