I try to maintain my upbeat tone. “Great, thank you.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Actually, I’m looking for Hux, have you seen him?”
Whit’s brows furrow in confusion, and my stomach sinks knowing I won’t like what he’s about to say.
“Huxley quit. Said he had a new construction contract starting up soon.” He pauses. “He didn’t tell you?”
I feel the floor sway under my feet, and my nose starts to sting. I’d rather die than cry in front of Whit, so I bite into my inner lip and will myself to turn on my survival skills. Be the actress I was born to be.
I slap my palm to my forehead and laugh. “Right, of course. Must have slipped my mind.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
I smile and wave him off. “All good, thanks though.”
He nods and shoots me a grin as he returns to fixing the chair. Turning on my heels, I bolt to my office and grab my purse. I get the hell out of the theatre without anyone seeing me. In the safety of my car, I let out a defeated screech and text Jamie.
SOS. Where are you? I need to see you.
I’m about to lose my fucking mind.
“I don’t knowwhat’s happening to me.”
My voice is scratchy and hoarse as I sob into my hands, feeling completely unhinged and insane. Jamie tsks softly beside me on the hotel bed and scooches even closer, wrapping her arms around me from the side. She took the afternoon off from work just to come see me, and I’d be a lot more grateful if I weren’t so consumed with unrelenting sorrow.
“Connie,” she says quietly, “You never actually dealt with your breakup with Oliver.” She pauses, rubbing my shoulder. “It was bound to come bubbling up.”
My head pops up, and I look at her sideways.
“What do you mean?” I sniffle. “This is about Huxley.”
Jamie tilts her head and narrows her eyes as if I’m being intentionally obtuse. “Connie, don’t you think both are connected?”
I warily glare at my best friend as I wipe the tears out of my eye with the heel of my palm, most likely smearing my mascara in the process.
“How is me moving back to Marsford Bay and blocking Oliver, not medealingwith it?”
Jamie lets go of my shoulders to better look at me, straightening herself on the bed.
“You must be joking,” she says teasingly, but her gaze is warm and caring. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I sniffle, the tears still quietly rolling down my face.
“I’mnotjoking.” My tone turns petulant, and I let myself fall backward into the mattress. I stare at the ceiling before adding, “You’re acting as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.”
Jamie snorts. “Because it is, you big weirdo.” She presses her palm into the bed and leans closer to me so she can look me in the eyes. “All you did wasreactto the problem, you never actually processed anything. What Oliver did to you was horrible, Connie.”
I look away. “Don’t you think I know that?”
As soon as I say the words, another wave of sadness overtakes me, and I choke on a sob. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to shield myself from the world as I cry with renewed vengeance, my body racked with sobs.
“Make it stop,” I whine.
Jamie pats my free hand, then squeezes it.
“I know it sucks, babe,” she says gently. “But you just have to let it happen. You have tofeelit before you can finally release it. It’s the only way to get to the other side. You’ll feel a lot better afterward, promise.”
Two hourslater and after I’ve cried what feels like all the water in my body, Jamie and I head downstairs to the hotel restaurant for a bite to eat.
My eyes are swollen and puffy, and my hair could need some serious love, but I don’t have the energy to care. Luckily,it’s the lull period between lunch and dinner, so it’s mostly just us and the staff.
