Space for three?

Under the sheets, which were over her head, she was working to get the pain out with a little bit of sleep, for she was tired of crying, which she had been doing since they left, and now it was past evening.

She didn't know if he was back, and she didn't think she cared; she knew she was selfish, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Jane's grandparents weren't the real deal. And why did Jane not know anything about them?

"Gianna, you want to go drink it out."

She turned to Amara, who was dressed in a shimmering short dress, her elbow placed against the opened door, her dark hair packed in a ponytail; she wasn't in the club already, but she was looking drunk.

"Amara, please don't come home drunk," she said out loud before realizing she had called it "home." "If you do, get a taxi or call, alright."

"I think that's exactly what we both need—Jane's gone, and Damon's acting like an asshole," she blinked, pushing the tears back in, "not like I feel it, he can go to hell for all I care;