She’s not wrong, and yet… “I still think you should have one.” I pout.
She reaches up to pat the top of my head, squishing my curls. “There, there, little one. It will all be okay.”
“I’m several inches taller than you.”
“And several pounds lighter,” she counters. “It’s all relative.”
“You’ve got the sort of body they carve into statues to put in museums,” I sigh. “Norm’s a lucky man.”
Frank does not disagree.
A thought occurs to me. “Hey, you’re an artist…”
“No,” she answers. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“No.”
“But what if—”
“I will not be taking on the art of sculpture work in order to create a self-portrait for your shrine, girlie. I like you, and I want to keep you, but I don’t like you or want to keep you enough forthat.”
I pout, just a little.
She pats my head again, and we start our slow elevator journey back to her floor. “You know, I’ve been so proud of you today.”
My jaw drops. “Sneak attack!”
She chuckles. “Maybe, yeah, but I’m being genuine. Last time I saw you, you were drunk on mimosas and being crushed to death because you weren’t asking for help. Now you’re not onlyasking for help, but accepting it, and I can see the difference it’s making in you. You look like the sunshine Will’s always told me you are, whereas before you had a cloud blocking your light.”
My chest aches bittersweet. I love that I’ve changed. I love that I’m counting on my friends. But I hate, hate,hatethat I needed to change because I wasn’t counting on them in the first place—that I let a cloud eclipse my light.
“Promise me you’ll keep that cloud away, yeah?”
“Yes,” I promise. “No more clouds for me.”
“Good,” she says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Because I much prefer the sun.”
I squeeze her hand right back.
“Me, too, Frank. Me, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ah. Those are. Emotions.
Roman
The past few weeks have been a combination of the worst torture and the most beautiful bliss.
Tomorrow, my best friend marries my little sister. For the second time. After half a life of being practically married already. I’m happy Ruby came to her senses, and I’m happy Will is the sort of man worth coming to your senses over.
You would think, me being so happy for them and all, that I was taking this situation well. I certainly thought I was taking it well, up until about half an hour ago when I picked up Ruby to bring her to stay in my spare room, formerly Will’s room, before he had a reason to go home after our movie nights. It turns out, I was not “taking it well." I was, in fact, burying my feelings and completely ignoring their existence.
I find myself holding onto my tears by sheer force of will as I walk down the hall after getting my baby sister settled into bed, tired after a long day of work and pre-exhausted for tomorrow.
Our parents stayed behind at her house with Will, who thrives under their fussing and, when we left him, was bouncing around his house like a man possessed, finding vitality in the spaces where his wife finds only exhaustion.
