Why am I still suffering and struggling? Even when I’ve prayed, asked for forgiveness, and continued going to church? I stopped having sex with Stone. Shouldn’t God be making things better now?
I’m still left wondering what the point in all of this is…
I cut off the music as I finish applying my makeup.
Later, a knock at the door sounds, so I exit the cluttered bathroom and hunt under a pile of dirty clothes in my bedroom for my black shoes.
As I’m digging, a pair of pink glittery pumps catches my attention.
Surely I shouldn’t wear those to a business dinner, right?
But it’s Stone’s birthday, and he will like them. He always says pink brings out the happiness in my soul. And he isn’t wrong. I adore the color.
I snatch the heels and carry them to the door with me. I slip them on and grab my pink purse from the stand by the doorway, and I briefly feel a twinge of sadness over the dead Bird of Paradise. I forgot to water it one too many times, and I fear it can’t be brought back from the dead.
Huh. There’s a metaphor in that somewhere…
I open the door with a soft smile on my face. I no longer try to hide my innate sadness from Stone, but I also try to at least look like I’m surviving.
Which is barely.
Heck, even Emma Jane has noticed and told me that I should look into trying therapy.
But they’re wrong. I’m not depressed like that. It’s just a readjustment phase, as I’ve said before. A long one, but that’s okay. I’m not sad all the time anymore. Stone has helped with that. And my writing brings me happiness. In fact, I’m almost ready to publish my first urban fantasy, which is exciting.
“You look… wow,” Stone says. His crystal blue eyes, which sparkle in the evening daylight, appraise me. “I’m one lucky man.”
I laugh, but then tack on in a flirty, “Hm. I think I’m the lucky one.”
His expression changes subtly. One wouldn’t notice it unless, like me, they have cataloged every movement of this man’s face. It’s a look that is contemplative and confusing.
I swear, if he breaks up with me on his birthday…
Changing the subject, I peruse him, openly admiring the way that black suit fits him in all the right places. “You look dashing in that suit, Mr. Harper. Are you ready to go sign the final deal with the investors? You’ll be opening up the Dasher Valley Community Center in no time.”
He grins and holds out his hand to me. I slip my fingers between his, locking down thoughts of breakups, as he leads us down the stairs from the second floor apartments.
“Do you want to come in?” The question hangs in the air as I search Stone’s eyes, a stormy gray illuminated under the light of the porch, for his intentions. The business meeting went wonderfully. He signed contracts with all three investors. We all had a glass of wine with our steak meals to celebrate. I asked the waitress to bring out a cake to sing “Happy Birthday” and all was well. He said we were going back to his place for a movie tonight.
But when we got in his car, he didn’t hold my hand as he usually does. In fact, he looked angry. I tried to ask him what’s wrong, but he flashed a fake smile at me and said nothing. I asked if he’s upset that his present was running late, but he exhaled a quipped laugh and shook his head. Was he lying about the movie? Is he about to…?
Fear is settling in my stomach because it feels like the exit ramp is near, and I am determined not to take it.
Stone will not remove himself from me. I can’t allow my little slice of happiness—my distraction from the constantly stalking Loneliness—to leave.
I love him, and I might just have to risk telling him that tonight.
Angels are rolling their eyes at me right now, but that’s okay. I’m going to roll the dice.
You can do this.
“Yes. I’d love to.”
Stone doesn’t smile, nor does the storm swirling in his eyes clear away, but instead, he releases a breath as he runs a hand through his blond hair while unlocking the front door with the other.
The door clicks, and my heart picks up triple time.
He turns the knob and pushes the black wooden door open, then he steps to the side and motions for me to enter.
