Joseph keeps bringing me trays of food that I don’t eat. I drink a bit of orange juice now and then, but I can only stomach that without gagging.
I am weaker than I ever have been.
Even the time I had that dreadedEpstein-Barrvirus for two months.
When the door creeps open again, I don’t even bother to roll over. I don’t have the energy. Another tray is being placed on the desk, and then the bed dips behind me. I close my eyes and imagine that it’shim.Hishand runs along my arm, and I hearhimexhale, but it’s not the wayheexhales. The image ofhimis forced from my mind again as Joseph lies down behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist. But they aren’t the arms I need, aren’t the arms I so desperately crave.
“Dee, we need to talk,” Joseph says as I lean into him. Even though he isn’thim, having someone touch me is nice. “If you don’t want to talk, then maybe you can listen,” he says sternly. Closing my eyes, I wait for the lecture I knew would come sooner or later. “I love you, but you stink,” Joseph says.
Okay, that’snotwhat I was expecting.
I open my eyes and turn to face Joseph. He looks worried and sleep-deprived as he reaches out to caress my cheek.
“I don’t stink,” I argue, my first words in I don’t even know how long.
He screws his nose up and smirks. “Sorry to tell you this, but you really do. And that breath of yours could do with some mouthwash and about ten years of brushing,” he states.
“Shut up,” I reply, and he covers his nose with his hand.
I roll my eyes, and he pulls me into his chest.
“Seeing as I have you talking again, I’d like to make it two for two and get you something to eat. Or even better, I’d like you to get out of this bed for something other than the bathroom and come down and meet Danny properly. I know he’s worried aboutyou and would like to get to know his new housemate. You know, the stinky girl who doesn’t eat, talk, shower, or come out of her room forfive damn days,” he says with a chuckle.
So now I realize how long I’ve been holed up in this room, wasting away to nothing.
“Dee, you’ve had your grieving. Now, it’s time for you to start functioning again. To start, slowly building yourself back up. With my help, I promise,” he says, kissing my cheek.
“When you’re ready, Danny and I are making Indian for dinner. Butter Chicken, Chicken Tikka, Lamb Rogan Josh, Saffron Rice, Raita, delicious cheesy Garlic Naan, any of this tempting you?” he asks, knowing they are all my favorite Indian dishes.
For the first time since this blackness engulfed me, the thought of food doesn’t disgust me.
“I don’t know,” I say, cuddling into Joseph’s chest.
He exhales. “Okay, well… I’ll be downstairs dishing up. It’s practically ready, so if you feel like gracing us with your filthy presence, we’ll be glad to have you.” He presses a kiss to my forehead before unwrapping his arms from around me.
The warmth of him lingers for a heartbeat—then it’s gone.
And I mourn the loss as he walks out of my room.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Princess Sophia jumps up and licks my face.
Joseph has left my bedroom door open so Princess can come and go as she pleases. Then, I catch the waft of something deliciously enticing. My stomach groans so loudly that I feel the vibration run through me, so I slide out of bed.
Joseph must have brought up my luggage at some point. I walk over, still only wearing my underwear, and find a long shirt to cover my ass. I can’t be bothered dressing into anything else, plus it’s only Joseph, and he’s seen me naked, so it doesn’t bother me to show off my legs, and as for Danny, well, he’s not going to care, is he?
I take out my toiletry bag and wander into the ensuite, stopping in front of the mirror.
What in the actual fuck!
The woman staring back at me is a stranger.
Gaunt cheeks, dark circles so deep they look like bruises. Eyes that once held a spark are now lifeless and dull. The self-inflicted cut on my forehead has faded to a sickly yellow-gray, and my lips are cracked and peeling.
And my hair? Let’s not even go there.
That woman right there, the one staring back at me, is definitelynotDeliah Norman.
