“Open the door, Willa.”
“No.” He can’t be here.
“Open the goddamn door, Willa.”
“No.” He can’t see me like this.
I’m still staring at him as he sighs. Next, he runs a hand through his hair. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to figure out how to get me to open the door. Ha! That’s never going to happen because a) I haven’t showered in… God, when did I shower last? And b) my apartment looks like a tornado went through it.
“Go home, Hudson.”
“I’m not going home.”
“How’d you get up here, anyway?”
“I buzzed everyone’s apartment until someone let me in.”
I hate when people do that. “That was rude.”
“You’re being rude by not letting me in.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m––” I feel the burn behind my eyes and know what’s coming because it’s what I’ve been doing every day this week. “I’m a mess.” Ahotmess, literally.
“Honey…” His voice has softened. “Open up. Let me in.”
“No.”
“Please?” Then he holds up a white paper sack. “I brought you a treat from the ballpark.”
I knew his team was playing. I looked it up on my phone. A phone that I won’t be able to use after the twenty-fifth because they’re shutting it off, but who cares? There are more important things than phones.
And crap on a cracker, the tears start again.
“Go.” Sniffle. “Home.” Sniffle. “Hudson.” Sniffle.
“Are you crying?”
I sniffle quieter than before. “No.”
“Babe. Let me in. This food is getting cold.”
I haven’t eaten anything but ramen noodles for four weeks. No lie. I mean, that stuff is like twenty-five cents a pack. Of course I’m only eating ramen. “What…What is it?”
“A pretzel and cheese, a hotdog, fries, and nachos.”
“Wow.” That all sounds delicious. I glance down at myself and wince. “I’m a mess.” I know I already said that, but based on my stained shirt and matching stained shorts, it bears repeating.
“I don’t give a shit. Let me in, Willa.”
Lifting my hand, I place it on the deadbolt.
“I’ve also got treats for Barney.”
And there it is. The man thought of my cat, because of course he did.
