Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
My phone chimed. “One moment…” I pulled away from the disaster I’d started, rubbing my bottom lip before reaching for my phone.
It was a text from Abby.
Abby: The shrimp dish was really good. Thanks for making it. I do wish you’d stayed for dinner, but I understand why you didn’t. Today must have been a lot for you. It was a lot for me. More than I imagined it would be. I hadn’t watched that video of my mother since before she died. This was the first time I’d seen her or heard her voice. It was heartbreaking and beautiful all at once. But I needed my mom today. We try to hide from memories because it hurts. But sometimes what we really need is to remember.
I let her words soak in. She was right. What I needed to fix my problem was not escape but to allow in everything I’d been trying to push away. I’d been blocking thoughts of Britney, because going there for even a second made me tremendously sad—for all she had missed out on today, for all she’d be missing out on, in general. But the effort of blocking her from my mind was probably more exhausting than just letting everything in.
“What’s wrong?” Alaina asked.
“Huh?” I felt dazed, still staring down at Abby’s text.
“Is everything okay? You look like someone died.”
Someone did die. Just not tonight. “Yeah, uh…” I finally looked up from my phone. “I’m sorry. I…I can’t do this tonight.”
“What?” Her face reddened. “Why did you call me, then?”
“I thought I needed it, but…” I shook my head. “It wasn’t what I need.”
“Well, I needed it,” she spat. “Thanks for wasting my time.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, turning away. It was an arsehole move. She had every right to be pissed at me. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to care at the moment.
Alaina grabbed her coat and stormed out the door, leaving a trail of muttered expletives in her wake. I deserved each and every one of them.
I stared at the door for a full minute before I texted Abby back.
Sig: I’m happy you enjoyed the meal. You’re right. Today was a lot, and I have a tendency to run from emotions. The stronger they are, the faster I go. I try not to feel anything most days. It’s a practice I’ve almost perfected. But today, I failed. It became unbearable. I owe you an apology—again. It wasn’t you. Please know that. You were the best part of today.
My chest felt raw. It felt odd to be so…honest. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that last part, but it was true. Abby’s calm demeanor had helped balance the panic I’d felt from the moment she went in for the procedure. As difficult as this situation was, she made it better.
The three dots moved around as she responded.
Abby: We’ll get through this. One day at a time. Have a good night, and it’s okay. I understand why you left.
I sensed she really did. That’s why she’d texted me. It had been just what I needed to hear. My finger lingered over the keypad. Part of me yearned to continue the conversation, to release some of these trapped emotions. With her, I thought I could do it. But instead, I put my phone away.
That night, before I went to bed, I took my phone out again—not to text Abby back, but to do something for the first time in the five years since Britney died. I watched a video of her and me jaunting around London before she’d gotten too sick. It wasn’t as painful as I’d thought it might be. I even managed to smile as it brought many more positive feelings than negative ones.
Maybe I could watch it again sometime.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
Sig
Track 12: “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman
The following Monday, Abby had completed her first day of training at Covington Properties. Not wanting to micromanage, I’d left it to my customer relations manager, Art Schumacher, to show her the ropes. I did, however, offer to drive her from London back to Westfordshire that night rather than call her a car so I could address any questions she had at the end of the day.
I hadn’t seen her at all, since my office was on another floor, but I’d asked her to meet me outside at 6 PM, and I pulled my car around to the front of the building to wait. It was a mild May evening, dry without a raindrop in sight.
When I spotted her walking toward me, my heart skipped a beat. Abby looked different than I’d ever seen her before. She wore a form-fitting, pinstriped dress with an edgy diagonal neckline. While businesslike, it was a more provocative wardrobe choice than I might’ve imagined for her first day on the job. Simply put, she looked smoking hot, and I knew a few of the wankers who worked for us must have had a field day ogling her and drooling. I supposed I was one of them right now.