Page 96 of All's Well that Friends Well
When Quincey was putting her down, she just looked broken.
I don’t even realize what I’m doing or where I’m going until I get there. My briefcase is still clutched tightly in one fisted hand, and my footsteps have been more aggressive than normal—but they’ve taken me to my office.
To Juliet’s old room.
“You’re being weird,” I mutter to myself even as I drop my bag against the wall. “This is creepy. Sleeping in her old bed is creepy. Possibly even invasive.”
But my eyelids grow heavier with every step I take, and I almost fall down toeing out of my shoes.
“It’s really weird,” I mumble as I dig my phone out of my pocket. With my other hand I pull off my glasses and toss them onto the little bookshelf against the wall. “At least ask first.”
And I’m clearly not thinking straight, because if I were fully awake and rested and alert, I would never call Juliet about this. But I find myself looking at the screen through bleary eyes until I’ve pulled up her contact.
She answers on the second ring, right as I’m flopping face-first onto the bed. The comforter poofs up around me, and the lingering scent of strawberry shortcake cushions my fall.
“Hi,” Juliet’s bright voice says into my ear.
“Can I nap in your bed?” I say, and I’m not sure my words are even intelligible, garbled by the blankets pressed to my face. “Is it weird?”
There’s a minuscule pause before her answer comes. “No,” she says softly. “It’s not weird. Untuck the comforter if you need to pull it up around you more; you’re taller than I am.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say—all I’m capable of.
“Rest well,” she says, her voice still gentle and warm.
I hang up, and it’s not one minute before I fall asleep with the phone still inches from my face.
When I wakeup some time later, it’s because my phone is buzzing against my cheek.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep; with the way I feel, it could be hours or days or even years. My body is heavy and still, but as I grab blindly for my phone, my mind begins waking with unusual energy—a light switch turning on rather than slow, dragging steps toward some distant flame.
“Hello,” I say, my voice gruff and croaky. I balance the phone on my cheek and let my eyes flutter closed again.
But they pop open when Juliet’s voice filters in.
“Hi!” she says. When I don’t respond immediately, shespeaks again, her voice worried now. “Oh, no. Did I wake you up? Were you still sleeping? Do you want to go back to bed?”
“No—no.” The words are out before I’ve thought about them. I reach for my phone and right myself with a great heave, blinking at the room around me. “Just—give me a second,” I say as my surroundings come more or less into focus.
That’s right—Juliet’s old room. My office. I laid down here after work, but it’s getting dark now. “What time is it?” I ask, lumbering to my feet and reaching for my glasses.
“A little past seven,” Juliet’s bright voice answers.
My brow furrows as I put my glasses back on, throwing the rest of the room into sharp focus. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” she says. “You had a good nap. How was my bed?”
And that’s when I remember the details I’d rather forget: I called her. I called Juliet and asked if I could nap in her bed.
What was I thinking?
“Look,” I say haltingly, my body stilling halfway from the bed to the door. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—” But I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. “I was tired,” I finally settle on. “And your bed was close. Don’t—don’t read into it.”
“Too late. I’ve already readallthe way into it,” she says, her voice cheerful, unbothered. “You know as well as I do that if you didn’t like me, the last place you would want to sleep is my bed. But we don’t have to discuss that right now,” she says before I can protest. “If you’re getting up, you should come let me in. I’m at your front door.”
I can feel the corners of my lips turn down at this news. “I—are you?”
“Yep,” she says.
