“Are you okay?” Nora gasped as she stumbled toward the nightstand, searching for the flashlight she had left there earlier. Flicking it on, she pointed the beam down at the floor, revealing Alistair seated cross-legged, holding his foot, which had a sizable gash across the big toe.
“Oh, my God, that’s a lot of blood,” she exclaimed, the effects of the alcohol making her head spin. It took all her strength to steady herself.
“I think I saw a first-aid kit in the closet downstairs. Just a second,” she said, rushing down and leaving him alone in the dark room with his injured foot. She returned a minute later with a small box and opened it, pulling out alcohol pads and a few large Band-Aids.
“Thank God for the whisky in me,” he said, holding his foot up and tilting his head toward the ceiling in pain.
“Okay, I need to clean it up, then I can bandage it. You ready?” Nora said, pulling out one of the alcohol pads and some gauze to soak up the extra blood. He nodded.
“Hold this,” she instructed, handing the flashlight to him.
He shined the light down, revealing a gash that ran clear across the tip of his toe.
“Shit, that burns,” Alistair muttered as she wiped away the blood that was still freely flowing.
“Oh, God, do you think it needs stitches?” Nora asked as the cut continued to bleed.
“No, it’ll be okay. Let me see that gauze. It should slow the bleeding if I hold it there for a minute,” he reassured her, taking hold of the gauze and wrapping it around his toe.
Her head was starting to ache, and the whiskey, combined with the smell of blood, had turned her stomach. After a few minutes, Alistair pulled the gauze away, and Nora wrapped two bandages around his toe.
“Well, this was not the way I saw this night going,” he joked as he stood up, swaying. He tried to get his balance, which was tricky standing on his heel, along with being a little drunk.Maybe he shouldn’t go down the stairs, Nora thought as she watched him try to right himself with little success. That would mean either sharing a bed with him tonight or her sleeping on the sofa. At this point, they would not likely be rekindling anything.
“Why don’t I sleep downstairs tonight? You take the bed. You shouldn’t walk down on that foot,” Nora suggested.
“Absolutely not. I am not taking your bed. I’m fine. See?” he said, limping over to the door.
“Fine, but I am helping you down the stairs.” She knewbetter than to try to argue with him, so she walked over and slipped her body under his arm as a makeshift crutch.
It was slow going and by the time they had made it down to the sofa, Alistair was in quite a lot of pain.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nora asked, seeing the pain reflected in his eyes. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, I just need to try and sleep this off,” he said, lying down and pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to cover himself. He closed his eyes, wincing a little as he propped his foot up onto a pillow.
“Well, if you need anything, just give me a yell,” Nora offered, walking back toward the stairs. She turned around and said goodnight, but he said nothing back, and a wave of unease fell over her.
When she got back to her room, the events of the night played through her mind as she slipped into bed. The evening had started off so well and had ended so badly. The fact that he hadn’t even said goodnight to her left her feeling awkward. She tried not to overthink the situation; her mind was foggy with alcohol, and she knew that nothing good came of perseverating. But she couldn’t stop her mind from going to dark places. Was he sobering up and regretting what they had started?
The suffocating uncertainty of self-doubt was weighing heavily on her chest when Sam broke into her thoughts. Why was it that every time she got close to someone, the universe seemed to find a way of stopping things in their tracks? No, that wasn’t quite fair to blame the universe when she had been the one who had messed things up with Sam. Their first year of dating had been wonderful, but everything went downhill after he asked her to marry him. His proposal had caught her completely off guard, and she had said yes even though she knew she wasn’t ready formarriage. She should have just told him, but instead, she had dragged things out, coming up with a million reasons why she couldn’t set a date. After a full year of her excuses, Sam began pulling away, growing more distant by the day, and their relationship grew strained. Determined to salvage their relationship, Nora decided to surprise him one weekend, armed with a box of his favorite pastries, a bottle of wine, and the news that she had finally picked a date.
He wasn’t home, so she waited, excitement coursing through her as she rehearsed for the hundredth time the lines she wanted to say. As the hours passed, however, her excitement turned to apprehension when he never returned. She had fallen asleep on his couch only to awaken to the sound of the door opening the next morning. He stumbled in, looking disheveled and reeking of liquor and cheap perfume. Caught off guard by her presence in his living room, he hastily ran his hands through his hair and attempted to straighten his appearance. But it was futile; Nora could see right through his facade, noticing the cream-colored foundation on his shirt and the missing button on his pants. He stood speechless as she stared back at him, the truth hanging heavy in the air.
Nora rose to her feet, clutching the box of pastries tightly, and silently exited the apartment. It marked the final chapter of their relationship and the last time she would see him. He attempted to reach out once afterward, leaving a lengthy voicemail about how he should have ended things sooner and that his proposal had been a spontaneous mistake. He said that she needed to find herself before committing to marriage, and he needed a partner with a clear vision for the future—something Nora couldn’t provide. His words stung, for they held a painful truth. She had vowed not to enter another relationship until she had a clear understandingof her own aspirations in life and so far, they still eluded her.
She blamed herself for his cheating, but when it came right down to it, she knew better. She had dragged her feet because deep down she knew what kind of man he really was; she just didn’t want to see it. If she were honest with herself, she had known he wasn’tThe Onewhen they first met. From the moment their relationship had started, it was bound to end in heartache.
As she sat drunk and wallowing in the past, something to her left caught her attention, startling her into almost falling out of bed. Coming from the stack of books on the nightstand was a ghostly blue glow.
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Chapter Thirty-Three
Porridge and Honey
The faint blue glow emanated from the pages of the little red book. Nora rubbed at her eyes and then pointed the flashlight at it. Nothing unusual. No blue glow. Just a book. The whiskey and her mind were playing tricks on her. Once she had looked at it, however, she couldn’t resist its pull, and she picked it up, figuring it would be a good distraction from her depressing train of thought. Using the flashlight, Nora turned to the page where she had left off and started to read.
As I lay there on the cold, unforgiving floor, my mind raced with why James seemed to despise me. As hard as I tried, I could not come up with even the slightest reason. We did not know one another, and my gran had been nothing but kind and helpful to his family. Nevertheless, he laythere with his back to me, his mood chilling the room more than it already was. I willed my mind to slow for I needed all my strength and energy for the ride ahead tomorrow. I finally drifted off to sleep, my mind still churning with worry as I entered the realm of dreams.
