Arabella
How long doesit take to feel human again after a breakup? I’m asking for a friend. Because, although I’m completely fine, she’s a hot mess. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling whilst second-guessing her decision to break up with him. Poor pathetic thing—I’m so glad I’m not her.
I mean, these haven’t exactly been the happiest of days, and I do find it the teensiest bit difficult to concentrate on work, even though I’ve packed my schedule so tight, there’s not even a second to think about you-know-who. It’s a good thing really, because it’s allowed me to keep it together during the day, head held high, as I race from thing to thing with a bright smile.
But, honestly, as evening draws near, I find myself filled with an ever-increasing sense of dread, knowing I’ll be going back to my empty apartment where I’ll face another evening very much alone listening to Celine Dion. You may be saying to yourself, “why doesn’t she spend time with her Gran or her father or Arthur, Tessa, and the kids?”
Simple really. I need to avoid my family since there isno wayI’m going to fall apart in front of any of them, in spite of what Tessa said last week. I’ve set out to prove that a girl doesn’t have to dissolve into a blubbering mess every time she parts ways with a man. And with the exception of blabbing to Mrs. Chapman and Yvonne and, well, a few other staffers about the whole thing, I’m winning.
If you call winning avoiding the people who love you most, which in this case, I do. Mostly.
So, as you can tell, I’m doing really well, all told.
Except for the empty nights alone. And the fact that now I not only have lingering feelings of missing Will, I also miss my family. And there are moments—fleeting as they may be—that I wish I could go back and change everything. Like right now. I’ve just finished eating a very dull meal of broiled chicken, Waldorf salad, and grilled asparagus while I scrolled through my Pinterest feed on my mobile.
Now, I’m left tapping my fingers on my table while I stare around. Maybe it’s bedtime. Let’s see…nope. It’s only twenty to eight. A bit early for that. Last night I went to bed at seven and it was awful because that meant listening to the clock tick for over four hours before sleep finally came.
You know what? Tonight I’m going to trust myself and go see Tessa and Arthur. It’s Thursday evening and I need something to distract me from turning on the telly. Because if I don’t, I’m definitely going to polish off a bottle of wine while I watchPrincess in the Wild,which would lead to uncontrollable sobbing and puffy eyes tomorrow. No thank you.
I walk to my bedroom and change out of my suit and into my cosiest pair of sweats, glancing out of the window to see the moon low in the sky. I feel a pang in my chest, thinking of all the nights we lay out on the deck of the yacht, laughing and talking and just generally being deliriously happy.Oh, shut up, brain!
Five minutes later, I find myself knocking on Arthur and Tessa’s door. It swings open a moment later, and my brother stands before me in jeans and a T-shirt, clearly settled in for the evening. “Arabella! I was wondering how long you were going to continue pretending you’re fine.”
He steps aside to let me in, and there’s something about the smirk on his face that causes me to stiffen up.
“I am fine,” I say. “I’ve just been very busy.”
“Very busy telling everyone and their uncles’ dogs about your breakup?”
My face turns red and I walk directly to the bar to pour myself a gin and tonic. “I’ve done no such thing,” I lie. “Why? What have you heard?”
“I hear everything,” he says, following me into the living room, picking up scattered toys and loading up his arms. “Apparently, you’ve been polling the staff for their opinion on whether you should’ve dumped his arse or not.”
“Not polling,” I say. “More like, seeking out new perspectives.”
“Sure you were,” Arthur snorts as he drops the toys into a large wooden box, then he starts collecting some board books and stuffed animals. I watch him in this very simple domestic act, then glance around, realizing that this is what a happy home looks like—two people who love each other in spite of their differences and work together to give each other and their children the best life possible. My nose tickles with emotion, and I draw a deep breath to stuff those pesky feelings back down where they belong.
“But seriously, Arabella,” Arthur says, “How are you? For real?”
“Great. Honestly. I was alittleupset at first, but overall, I’m very happy with my decision.” I take a quick swig of gin to help swallow my lie. “Yes, quite pleased indeed. We were utterly wrong for each other. As much as I hate to admit you were right about something, you may have been right about us.”
“Excellent,” he says, picking up a large blue stuffed bear and holding it on his hip like he does one of his kids. He crosses the room with it and sets it on a toddler-sized rocking chair, then pats it on the head. “In that case, you probably won’t mind if we watch your show.”
“Is that tonight?” I ask. “I completely forgot about it.”
“Wow, impressive,” he says, walking over to the coffee table to pick up the remote. He stares at me while he turns on the television, clearly thinking we’re in a game of emotional chicken and I’m about to lose. Well, not today, Arthur. Not today.
“Throw it on if you want to,” I say with a shrug.
“I think I will,” he says, pressing buttons on the remote until he gets to ABN.
“Where’s Tessa? I was hoping she’d be here.”
“She’s down at the gym with Xavier doing a last-minute workout before our trip.”
“Oh, I forgot that is this weekend.”
“She certainly hasn’t. The poor woman—getting absolutely lambasted by the media at every turn.”
