In fact, I’m so tied up in the feelings of complete and total dejection that I’m more than halfway back to my apartment when I realize I’m not supposed to be going home—I’m supposed to be going to the Christmas market, where I have to work an entire shift.
Turning on my heel, I startle another woman walking near me and don’t even spare time for an apologetic look. Instead, I plow down the street, brain numb, desperately trying not to replay that moment with Russell in my mind again and again.
He said he wanted me this morning.
But when it comes down to it, what a man says meansnothing. It’s only behavior that really tells you who they are.
After everything happened with Dax, I remember thinking I was sostupid. That I should have known better, that I should have seen all the signs.
I’m not going to let it happen a second time. Maybe that woman in the park was really his sister, but Russell isn’t being completely open with me. Refusing to do the DNA test proves that.
By the time I get to the market—after fighting my way through the thick pedestrian traffic like a fish struggling to swim upstream—I’m an hour late, and I find Sienna at the booth, sweating under her knit jumper and glaring at me as she attempts to pack three candles at once. There’s a line stretched out from the stand, and the table at the front is sparsely stocked.
I slip in, diving into the work, restocking the table and making my way down the line to ask for what people are interested in, bringing them samples so by the time they get to the front they’re ready to check out.
The work feels good, actually. A chance to occupy my mind with something other than how spectacularly horrible I feel.
Three hours later, when the crowd finally thins and Sienna and I have a chance to clean up, I realize she hasn’t said a word to me outside ofthat box, in here,or,right behind youfor the entire three hours. While working, I’d thought it was just the rush of packing and selling, but now I can feel the chilly anger rolling off her.
“Sienna—”
She whirls on me, the bracelets on her wrist clicking together as she points at me. Her black hair is pulled back haphazardly from her face, and she’s still flushed, her dark eyes flashing at me.
“I’ve been waiting for your apology this entire time,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes, “but now, I’m not actually sure I want to hear it.”
I sigh, rubbing at my eyes, “Iamsorry, Sienna. It’s just been a long day. Russell?—”
She lets out a strangled sound, setting down a bottle of oil with a little too much gusto. “Look, I get that he’s like, the dream man or whatever, but—seriously? You’re going to let a man make you be a bad friend?”
I stagger back like she’s hit me. Over the past five years, being a good friend is the only thing I’ve really had. Ettie and Sienna are my world, and without them, I’m not sure I would have made it through without a significant break-down.
And now, here Sienna is, calling me a bad friend.
Maybe she’s right.
I’m a bad friend.
In fact, I’m not entirely positive that I’ve been able to doanythingright lately.
I finish breaking down the box in my hands, then I set it and the cutter down, turning and grabbing my coat.
“Wait, Jules—” Sienna says, her voice softening, but I can’t stay, can’t listen to her retract what she said just to make me feel better.
Maybe my parents were right. That by having Gus, by choosing the life I did, I would always be taking more from others than I’d ever be able to give.
Holding the tears at bay, and ignoring Sienna’s requests to come back, I hurry out of the Christmas village and into the cold, waiting until I’m sure she can’t see me to totally and completely break down.
Chapter 29
Russell
“Still sick?”
The current chief of medicine—Louise Allen—is on the other side of the phone, her voice warm yet authoritative. She, of course, knew my father, and I’m not blind to the amount of leeway that gets me.
“Yeah,” I say, doing my best to sound haggard and wrung-out, which actually doesn’t take that much effort. I texted Jules once, to make sure she got home okay, and she didn’t bother to answer that. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries, we’ll push your surgeries. See if Orie can pitch in on the more intensive ones. Just do your best to feel better.”
