Page 99 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve
I raised my eyebrows. “The freezer?”
“Everyone knows that cheesecake is best frozen. Like ice cream.”
Mari shook her head and smiled. “Not everyone knows that, Haz. But I think we should maybe cook some lunch first.”
“Oh, no, I’m not hungry,” I protested.
“Have you eaten any meals at all this week?” she asked.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Fritos and chocolate probably didn’t count as meals—nor did cups of white and brown sugar mixed with butter, when I’d run out of packaged sweets. Now I was almost out of sugar too.
Mari nodded and rose to her feet. “That’s what I thought. I’ll go see if you have any scraps of real food in your kitchen and whip something up.”
Before I could protest further though, she’d walked away, and Hazel placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Friends takecare of each other, Rox. If you want to have an epic sob-fest, we’ll sob with you. If you want to forget all this and watch movies all day, we’ll be here.”
“That’s … I don’t know what to say,” I managed.
“Let us see you, Roxy.”
I looked up through a veil of tears. “I haven’t had … this is going to sound pathetic, but I haven’t had many close friends in my life. Well, other than Julia, but we’ve rarely seen each other since college. She’s in England right now.”
Hazel nodded sympathetically. “It’s not easy to keep up a close friendship from such a long distance.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s easier to maintain the facade that you’re mostly fine, right? Have you even talked to her this week?”
I hung my head in shame. “No.”
“Hey, chin up,” she said. “Friends don’t let friends mope alone. Deal?”
Chapter 27
Although Hazel and Mari convinced me to shower and rejoin the world, I still felt stuck and numb and lost and a host of other emotions I’d never been good at handling.
What would I do now? I’d reluctantly agreed to let Hazel hire a new assistant. So the very next day, after an excessively long night of sleep, I turned on my phone. I cleared all my notifications without reading them—I didn’t need to heap on more guilt—and proceeded to write my job description on my phone. This productivity provided a momentary boost in my mood, but by evening, I was restless again.
My computer beckoned, but I was determined to resist any chance of seeing Jeff online. Or even being reminded of our shared interests, the game we’d spent hundreds of hours planning and talking about, our many personal conversations, and … all the feelings. Attraction. Hope. Betrayal. Disappointment. Humiliation.
I tried to imagine what I’d tell a therapy client in my situation. I might tell them to look into hobbies, reading, yoga, exercise, journaling … all the things I had zero interest in right now.
After another full day of twiddling my thumbs, I finally decided to get out of the house. My fridge and pantry were nearly empty, I was sick of ordering crappy delivery food, and a walk to the store would be good for my body and my mind. Or so they always said.
But the problem was … Jeff lived a block away. I couldn’t face him, knowing what a complete fool I’d been. I probably couldn’t avoid him forever, but I’d try as long as I could. As a disguise, I wore large sunglasses and stuffed my telltale long, dark hair under a thick hat and coat.
The first time I ventured out, I didn’t see him. And I realized the fresh air and movement were exactly what I needed. Granted, it wasfreezingfresh air, but nevertheless, this was the best I’d felt all week. So I resolved to start a daily walking ritual, which I’d attempted before but never in the dead of winter. I was motivated.
It was only day two of my new walking regimen when I spotted him across the street.
My pleasantly heightened heart rate turned into a stampede pounding into my chest as I dashed the last twenty steps to my apartment building. I pulled open the heavy door that led inside.
I stood inside, staring through the fogged-up window between the front door and the mailboxes. He was now facing my apartment building and—
Oh, no.No.
He was starting to cross the street!
I fled, panic flooding my veins as I rushed out of the entryway and into the hallway leading to my apartment. Halfway down the hall, I was out of breath and didn’t see my neighbor Jenna until she was right in front of me.
