Picking up the phone, I saw that the alarm was turned off—something that I must have done in my tired state—and that it was five in the evening.
Crap.
I’d been exhausted lately, but a three-hour nap was a bit much, no matter how depressed I was.
“Sabrina? Unlock the door.”
I groaned as my mom knocked again. I knew that she’d noticed I was sleeping a lot lately, and that I had skipped breakfast and lunch today. Sitting up in the bed, I felt my stomach roll. The damn nausea that I’d been dealing with all day was lingering.
Great, now I’m getting sick too.
“Just a second, Mom,” I called out to her. Throwing the covers back, I slid out of bed. Once I was on my feet, the nausea receded a little.
I walked through my sitting room and pulled open the door. My mom ran her eyes over me, and I braced myself for criticism, but instead, her eyebrows knitted together in concern.
“Are you sick?” she asked, stepping forward and placing a hand against my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”
“I don’t think I have a fever,” I said, giving her a small smile as she led me back into my bedroom. “I’m just tired.”
“Well, you haven’t eaten either.”
“I don’t feel good,” I admitted.
“You look positively green.”
I was tempted to be snarky, but I knew that she was coming from a place of concern.
“Get back into bed,” she instructed, gesturing to it.
“I just woke up,” I told her, shaking my head. “Besides, I feel a little better now.”
“Good enough to join us for dinner?”
I cringed. I couldn’t imagine holding down solid food. My stomach felt better, but I didn’t trust it that much yet.
“Maybe some soup?” I suggested, and she nodded.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll open a can of soup for you.”
As she left I went into the bathroom, splashing water onto my face. When I looked in the mirror, I was happy to see that I at least looked well-rested. It had been three days since Butch had broken up with me, and I had spent most of it holed up in my room, wallowing in self-pity, which meant sleeping and watching anything I could find on television that was in no way related to romance.
I had been more than shocked by his decision to end things between us. It felt like it came out of nowhere, but once I thought about it, I realized that we had never fully discussed our situation after I told him about my engagement. We’d just gone with it, letting our insane chemistry guide us into a relationship that we both knew couldn’t last.
That hadn’t stopped me from falling for him, though.
It was foolish. I’d gone home with him the night we met, looking for an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone for once. Instead, I found a man I didn’t even know I was looking for. A man that couldn’t be mine.
It was a kick in the gut.
I was heartbroken to lose him, but I understood why he was ending things. He didn’t want to be my man on the side. That was never how I thought of him, but it made sense that he would feel that way. It wasn’t fair to him, and I was ashamed that I’d put him in that position, especially since I had developed such strong feelings for him. I’d buried those emotions when he broke up with me. It would have just made things harder on both of us if I showed him how his decision had shattered me.
My relationship with Butch was the first thing in my life that had ever truly felt like mine. I was breaking all the rules to be with him because it made me feel alive. It helped me forget that I had agreed to a future that didn’t feel like my own. I was happy with him for a while. Now I felt like I had nothing.
I changed out of the pajamas I’d been wearing and into a simple sundress, and the action made me feel better, a little more human. When I came downstairs, there were only two place settings at the dinner table.
“Dad won’t be joining us?” I asked, taking my usual seat.
“No, he’s at a meeting with Jim. He wants your father’s vote on the bill he’s introducing this week.”
