Their faces hanging on the wall haunted me, and the perfect table we all used to sit at was impossible to look at.
My first swing was at the giant canvas that hung in our dining room—a photo of my parents and me. The hammer continued to smash and obliterate room to room until almost nothing was recognizable.
But no matter what I broke or how many mirrors I shattered, the pain still burrowed deeper and deeper into my chest.
I haven’t stepped foot in the house since then, and I have no plans to. Eventually, I will probably hire people to clean it up, or I’ll sell it as is, or perhaps I’ll burn it down. But right now, it is going to stay how it is, frozen in time, with the death of happiness seeping into every crack.
Cherry Creek Shopping Center is only about a mile and a half from my hotel, so the ride is short.
Keanu clears his throat, more than likely to pull me from my thoughts. “Where do you want me to park?”
I open my mouth to talk, but Rose beats me to it. “If you could park over by Hermès, that would be great.”
Typically, I pride myself on not being a stereotypical rich snob. But I know for a fact that she said Hermès wrong.
Sophie whips her head around so fast at Rose’s destination of choice. “You and I both know we can’t afford anything in there.”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Duh, but it’s fun to pretend.”
“Hermès it is,” Keanu says as he turns down a lane.
And I can’t help but laugh at the smile tipping his lips as his eyes find mine, knowing he mastered the pronunciation of it from the multiple times that he’s brought me here.
Keanu parks, kills the ignition, and gets out, quickly opening the rear passenger door for Sophie, which Rose also slides out of. Only at events will I let someone open my door for me. I am perfectly capable, thank you very much.
Rose and Sophie walk hand in hand in front of Keanu and me.
Keanu kicks a rock. “How have you been, Becca?”
The rock he kicks lands a few feet in front of me, so I kick it, and it flies past Rose and Sophie, out of reach.
“I’m good. How are you?”
He kicks a new rock, and it somehow magically bounces in front of my shoe.
“Becca, I don’t want the bullshit answer. Try again.”
I laugh. “How do you think I’m doing? I’m taking it day by day while running this fucking empire and trying to figure out who the hell I even am anymore. So, yeah, I’m doing good.”
That felt like shit I would say to my therapist, Deana. Might as well skip my appointment later then.
Walking inside Hermès, we are immediately greeted by one of their employees with a fake polite smile creasing her cheeks.
I walk up to her with that false confidence that always seems to surface. “Hi. My Birkin has arrived.”
Rose audibly gasps behind me.
The worker says to me, “Of course. And your name?”
“Chambers.”
She straightens up at my name, which unfortunately is known by everyone in this town—and, well, almost everywhere else too.
“Right away.” She turns and walks off to fetch my bag.
“No way you just casually did that.” Rose’s jaw might as well be on the floor.
I chuckle. “I have a collection at home. You can borrow one sometime if you’d like.” With that, I turn away and begin shopping to see if anything new catches my eye.
