"I can get my drink, but thank you for offering," I respond.
"Wine or something else?" Brett asks me. He’s asking as if I didn’t say I’d get my own drink.
"I’ll have a glass of wine, I guess."
"Red or white?"
"You guys didn’t have to go through all of this trouble.”
"Red or white?" Brett asks again.
"White, please."
I excuse myself from the kitchen, feeling out of place and a little overwhelmed. The kindness is wonderful, but I’m already suffocating.
The bathroom down the hall is the closest place to hide and breathe. I see whyJourney ditched us. I press my hands into the base of the sink and stare at my reflection—the tired look in my eyes, the pale complexion against my prominent freckles. I’m not sure a touch up of makeup could fix the way I look right now. Even my hair is limp.
I splash my face with some water and blot the hand towel over my cheeks, inhaling the slight scent of Dad’s cologne. My chest feels like it mightsplit open, but there’s also a hollow feeling beneath all the pain.
A few deep breaths in through my nose and out my mouth help to slow my racing heart, but the moment of calm is over when I open the door, finding myself face to face with Brett.
"Air freshener?" he asks, handing me a bottle with a wry smirk.
My head falls to the side, but his smile is infectious. "You’re so sweet to offer."
"I’m kidding. Girls don’t do those sorts of things in the bathroom, right, Parker?" Brett glances down at his daughter, whose hands are covering her face.
"Dad," she grunts.
Brett releases a small laugh, and something inside of me can’t stop the chuckle I follow with. "I guess Parker has this covered with you, but thanks for the offer," I tell him.
"You never know when someone might need it, right?"
I close my eyes and shake my head as I step out and let Parker in, closing the door behind me. "Girls don’t like to endure the embarrassmentabout certain smells," I warn him.
"I’m aware," he tells me. "But sometimes I need to toughen her up a little too, right?"
"No. Girls should be able to live, knowing they always smell like roses," I inform with a wink.
I try to walk past Brett, but he places his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from moving any further. "Are you sleeping at night?"
"A little.”
"You look exhausted," he says.
I fold my arms over my chest. "You know, it’s another one of those things a woman doesn’t want to hear from a man."
"Well, I’m worried about you. That’s all."
"Why? We don’t know each other, not as adults, not after life has had its way with us both."
Brett seems confused by my comment. His brows furrow, and he tilts his head with a look ofquestion. "We’re both humans. You’re going through something horrible and no one deserves to go through this. I don’t have to know what happened to you every day during the last ten years to feel concern."
His response seems thought out as if the idea of me and my life has crossed his mind. "We all have our crap, right?" I ask.
"We do, and I know life can take a toll sometimes."
"Well, I appreciate your concern. I’m sure I’ll get more rest soon." I take the chance to leave the conversation, though I realize my response is uncaring and possibly rude, I don’t have the right words to reciprocate his kindness. I’d rather eat dinner and go to bed without saying another word if possible. I’m almost positive I won’t be lucky enough.
