“Well, then you need to tell her that.”
“I’ve tried talking to her. She refuses to answer the phone or see me.”
Rita snorts. “Write her a letter. Win your match back.”
I think about what she says and start to see the possibilities. “What if she won’t read it?”
“You just leave that up to me. Write the letter, and I’ll handle the rest.”
I’m not sure what Rita’s going to do differently than what I’ve tried, but I’m going to put my trust in her. She’s never led me astray before.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
OLIVE
It’s beenfour days since I broke things off with Harrison. Four days of tears and junk food.
“Olive, girl, you need to pull yourself together,” Zoe says, not for the first time.
I give her a nasty look and go back to my mope-fest.
She holds her hands up. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just saying if you won’t talk to the man, it’s time to move on. You’ve got a book to finish, and all this sad-sack stuff isn’t going to get it done.”
“Actually, I’ll have you know; I’ve written the best break-up scene ever.”
“And what about the part where the characters get back together and live happily ever after?” she asks.
I scrunch up my nose because that’s not been a thing and isn’t even something I can stand to think about. I’ve been enjoying ripping my hero and heroine apart until they are both miserable… just like I am.
“Exactly. You can’t finish your book like this. I know you’re hurting, but you need to try to rejoin the real world. Or at the very least, talk to Harrison and see what he has to say.”
“You mean, listen to his excuses? Zoe, I just can’t do it. I can’t hear it from his own lips that he was just playing with me.”
“Would he really be trying so hard to get you to listen to him if they were excuses?”
Ugh, I hate when she pulls out the sense talk. I don’t want things to make sense right now. I want to stay in the safety of my misery. If I’m lost in my heartache, I can’t be hurt anymore.
There’s a knock on my door, and I cringe, knowing it’s probably Harrison… again. Like the best friend she is, Zoe goes to the door. When I hear a woman’s voice instead of Harrison’s, my ears perk up. Seconds later, Rita walks into my messy apartment, taking in my sad-sack appearance. I’m wearing two-day-old pajamas, and my hair is a rat’s nest on top of my head. I’m a mess. Meanwhile, Rita is perfectly put together in a Chanel suit.
“Hi Rita,” I say, trying to sound perkier than I feel… and look.
“Olive, darling girl, are you okay?”
I snort a sad laugh. It’s obvious that I’m not even a little okay. Her gentle smile feels so motherly and kind that my chest squeezes and my eyes fill with tears again.
“Oh dear,” she says, crossing the room and wrapping me in a hug. I’m stiff for a moment, then relax into her hold, taking the motherly comfort she’s offering. Something I’ve sorely missed since my mother passed away.
I sniffle and get control over my emotions once again. “Sorry about that,” I say softly, wiping my eyes as I pull away from her hold.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for feeling how you do.”
I give her a sad smile. “Thanks.”
“Now, tell me, what’s wrong?”
Zoe clears her throat, interrupting. “I’m just going to head home. You okay, Olive?”
