He doesn’t follow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Most of the weekend is spent wallowing in the disaster that is my life.
Friday night was an embarrassing haze of tears, wine, and mini breakdowns—the smallest things toppled me into spirals of despair that concluded with banshee-style wailing sobs. For example, when I couldn’t find a clean wine glass, I drank wine from a mug that saidWORLD’S BEST WRITERon it—a gift I got in the office Secret Santa a few years ago. This released a torrent of crying. I had no right to drink from that cup.No right.
I got into my pajamas as soon as I walked through the door to get out of my rain-soaked clothes—I must have looked a sight on the tube, but I didn’t care—and I climbed into bed with a raging headache, without bothering to take off my makeup. On Saturday morning, I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror and gasp at the state of my face: blotchy, puffy, with shadows of mascara smudged down my cheeks. I feel so drained from the previous day’s events that I take my makeup remover back to bed with me, wiping at my eyes from the safety of my duvet.
When Mimi phones, I try my best to sound relatively normal, but she knows me too well.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Oh my god, Harper,” she gasps. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” I insist, my eyes filling with tears at her voice and my eyes welling with yet more tears. “I’mfine.”
“Did something happen with Ryan? I knew something wasoff with you yesterday before you left, and then he came into the office and I’ve never seen him so tense. He looked like he was going to either burst into tears or hit someone in the face. Are you with him now?”
“No,” I squeak.
“So you’re on your own?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming over,” she says firmly, giving me no opportunity to protest.
By the time she arrives, I’ve forced myself to have a shower and get into fresh pajamas. Mimi is, of course, dressed as though she’s going for afternoon tea at The Ritz—in a bright orange sundress. She starts when I open the door. I remember I’m still wearing a face mask that is supposed to hydrate and plump your skin. While I go remove it, she heads to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I plod in a few minutes later to find her washing up a couple of mugs in the sink.
“I’ve put your dishwasher on,” she informs me.
“I meant to do that last night, but I forgot,” I sigh, leaning back on the kitchen counter and folding my arms across my chest.
“Tea or coffee?”
“I’m the host. I should be asking you that question.”
“Harper, look at you,” she says with a sad smile. “You’re wearing your pajamas inside out and you have one Miss Piggy slipper on.”
“I gave up looking for the other one,” I admit. “I think it might be under the bed.”
“I’m not sure you’re in the right state of mind right now to handle a kettle. So, tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please. I could use the caffeine.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on? Knowing you, I’m guessing that whatever this is—” she gestures to my general appearance “—it’s not because of a boy.”
“You would guess correctly.”
She squints her eyes at me, trying to work it out. “Your parents? I know you were due to have dinner with them this week, and that never goes well. But usually you laugh it off.”
“I rearranged that dinner for next week. I’m sure fireworks will fly, but you’re right, I stopped crying over them a long time ago.”
“Is it worry over the redundancies? Because I know it’s horrible having that hanging over our heads at the moment, but you can’t let yourself get into a state before we have any of the answers.”
I look down at the floor. “Mimi, Cosmo already told me.”
She looks at me in disbelief. “W-what?”
