“Love you!”Jerome yells out right as the door clicks shut behind them.
"And then there were two," I say with a little chuckle, giving her a wink.
Sarah glances away from me shyly. Leaning forward, she puts her phone on the table without responding to David's request for dinner. The screen goes black.
“Well, let’s take their spot. I’ll finish it with you; then I’ll leave, too, so you can have time to yourself before bed,” I say, standing fluidly and holding my hand out to grasp hers to help her up.
Just like at my house, we sit on opposite ends of her new couch and finish the first episode of her show in comfortable silence. It's so pleasant. I have my feet propped up on the wooden living room table, and Sarah has her legs curled up underneath her, still sharing the comforter from her bed.
At almost nine-thirty I notice we're three episodes in and glance over at Sarah to mention it to her. Her head tilts as she nods off, then jerks back awake, blinking at the screen. When her eyes flutter shut again, I smile and reach over to grab one of her feet in a firm grip.
“Hey, go to bed. You look beat,” I say. My deep voice fills the space between us. Her eyes pop open, and she slowly looks over at me before nodding sleepily.
I get up and head for the door, but when I feel her close behind me, I turn, not ready to leave her yet.
We stare at each other for what feels like forever before I step into her and lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I tilt her head up to me, gazing down into her eyes and getting lost in them.
"You don't have to be brave all the time," I tell her softly. "It's okay to need someone."
"I have to try," she replies in a hurt voice, making my heart ache for her. "You can't always be here for me, Alex. I have to try to figure out how to do this without…” She looks down before trying to continue. “…Without…"
"I won't hurt you." I nuzzle her hair. "But I understand. Please know that I'll be here if you need me. It doesn't matter what timeof the night." I breathe in her scent one last time before stepping through the door, making sure I hear the snick of the lock clicking into place before I saunter off to go sleep in my horridly cold and sterile house.
I'm sure disappointment fills me with equal measure to the sadness and pain that fill her. Feelings that are sharp, unrelenting, and thatdodeserve death.
I wonder if I'm ever going to deserve someone letting me in.
Chapter twenty-nine
New Love
Thatfirstnightinmy new apartment was hard, and I barely got any sleep. It was my first true night alone since my miscarriage, and I was feeling almost irreparably empty. Icried most of the night away, with my phone in my hand and Alexander's number pulled up. But I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. That I didn't need to get on top of this by getting under someone else. And though it was hard, I made it through.
The next few days pass by uneventfully, and the sadness melts away bit by bit until I find myself floating on cloud nine under a new wave of peace.
I hadn't known how stifled and tense I’d grown under Brandon’s ridiculously controlling and abusive energy. I had another night where I'd woken up crying, clutching my stomach. But I was able to breathe through it and calm myself, without having to worry about Brandon and constantly walking on eggshells.
Vanessa contacted me, wanting to see me perform at the lounge on Wednesday night, and in a surprise turn, she went up on stage and performed a couple of songs beside me, making me grateful for the change in pace. It excited and disrupted the rigmarole of the evening and did a lot to ease my anxiety of seeing Brandon in the crowd.
Vanessa texts me pretty regularly, and soon we strike up a tentative friendship. She reminds me a lot of my former client and her energy.
On Thursday, I’d finally mustered up the courage to read the email that David sent me the day I moved into the apartment, and I frown at the contents. He’d respectfully asked if I was single or dating anyone, and also requested my office address. Why he won't just google it is beyond me. Sighing, I tab the email to respond another time, wanting to word it just right and feeling like, due to our professional relationship, I didn’t want to make anything weird between us.
I think about Alexander often, missing his light, easy and playful mood I’d gotten used to coming home to when I got offwork. We traded emails occasionally. Mostly regarding work and my health.
He's very concerned with the state of my back and if I’d be able to travel comfortably, which is why he’d bought me a first-class ticket alongside his. His emails are pleasant and professional enough. Some are about the weather, some asked me about how I'm settling into the apartment, and others asking if I'd been feeding myself properly.
I ask myself multiple times throughout the days if I'm delaying responding to David because of Alexander. Honestly, the fact that I'm busy thinking about two men, when one had just literally landed me in the hospital, doesn't make me feel the greatest. So, not impressed with the direction of my thoughts, I contact a local trauma therapist, setting up an appointment as soon as possible.
On Friday, I spend my free day out shopping and splurge on a few new outfits for the Vancouver trip, utilizing the massage that my friends gifted to me, and got a manicure and pedicure with Alexander’s gift. Already dealing with too many emotions, I blinked back tears when the owner revealed how much Alexander loaded onto the card. I sent him a text thanking him, and then sent him a bouquet of flowers to his office even though it's cheesy, and who sends men flowers?
He texted me a bit later with a simple picture of them at his desk, right next to his monitor.
One of the many stems of snow-white roses stuck out slightly more than the rest of them; its head leaned slightly in front of his screen, the petals almost touching my signature. He’d been reading an old email of mine from a few years ago, the one asking for an interview from him while I was in my internship. The image makes me smile because oh, how the tables have been turned. The picture lifts my spirits, thinking that I managed tobreak his icy exterior and cause him to be introspective, and I cruise through the rest of my day.
Later, I'm still thinking about him as I drive leisurely through my neighborhood with my windows down, and I slow when I spot an adoption shelter sign a few streets down a block I hadn’t yet been able to explore. Before I can psych myself out, I pull into an empty spot and slip off my sunglasses as I walk into the cool building.
The animal smell suddenly hits me, causing me to smile. Memories of all the times spent on my great-aunt’s farm come flooding back from when I was little, and my parents would take me to go horseback riding. If my childhood hadn’t been so fraught with unmet expectations and tension, I’d probably miss those days.
