She left them behind. Just like I did.
“You with me?” I ask her gently.
She stirs, glancing around with an embarrassed expression. “Yeah.”
“Don’t worry about them,” I say quietly. “I’ve got you.”
But my heart is breaking.
Because I’ll have to leave her too.
The days are passing too quickly.
Emmy offers me a brighter smile. “We should get going.”
“Yeah.” My fingers tremble as I drain the last dregs of coffee. I lean on the table to push myself up.
The days are passing too quickly, and I’m getting tired.
Not yet.
11
Emmy
“Emilia!”
I jump as Angelo peers over my shoulder. “Sorry, Angelo.”
He huffs as he takes in the pitiful excuse of a bouquet I’ve been fiddling with all morning. “Your head is not here today. Do it again.”
No, it’s not.
I glance at the door again, but he doesn’t walk through.
It’s just a headache.
Anotherheadache.
One that kept Ben in bed this morning. I left him in my apartment, his eyes half-open after he spent the night bent over the toilet, vomiting.
Just a bug.
My shaking hands manage to accidently cut the head off a calla lily, and I swear, dropping the rest to the table and gripping it.
“Go.”
I whirl at the sound of Angelo’s voice. He’s frowning. “Go, Emmy. Do what you need to do and come back when your head is empty.”
I hesitate. “I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been distracted—,”
“It’s alright,” he says gruffly. “Go on. Before you kill all of my flowers.”
He nudges me out of the way, apron already in place as he reaches for the bouquet I nearly butchered and tuts. His eyes slide to mine. “Go now.”
This is ridiculous, I tell myself. I’m nearly running, ducking between people as I head toward my apartment.He’s fine.
Everyone is allowed a sick day.
