Ashley: Oh no. If you want some company, come by the studio. I’m here cleaning it.
I drift my eyes back over the kitchen, debating if I should go or not. I’m so behind on orders but spending some time with someone who doesn’t make me feel crazy sounds like something I need right now. So I head right back out the door.
Violet: Coming.
Ashley: Smiley emoji.
I swing the door open. The silence of the studio is so different from when I am usually here. Every time I walk in, music and chatter fill the rooms. It’s almost eerie not hearing any of that.
“Ashley,” I call out.
“In here.”
I follow the sound of her voice inside the hot room. “Feels different in here when it’s not burning hot.”
She chuckles. “I know.”
I take a seat on the floor and lean my back up against the wall. I watch as she cleans the mirrors.
“So, how have you been?” she asks, looking at me through the mirror.
I let out a sigh and lean my head against the wall. “This weekend was rough.” I almost don’t want to relive it again, but I tell her everything.
Again.
Something about her makes me feel comfortable opening up to her. By the time I’m finished, she’s sitting on the floor staring at me while I pour my baggage out.
She shakes her head. “Oh girl, that is awful. Have you thought about trying to get his phone records and seeing if there is a number you don’t recognize?”
My eyes shoot up. Why didn’t I think of that? A guy I went to high school with works there. Can he get the content of the messages too?
I jump up onto my feet; her eyes follow. “I went to school with a guy that works there. He could probably get them for me.”
“Yeah, go get them,” she says cheering me on.
I nod, walking out. “I am. Thanks for the talk,” I say over my shoulder.
“You’re welcome.”
I book it out of there like my life depends on it. I pray he still works there. It hasn’t been too long. He should be still there.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking in, scanning the sales floor. I let out a heavy breath once my eyes find Michael.
“Hi, can I help you?” a dark-haired man says.
“I’m actually waiting for Michael,” I say with a grin.
He turns and looks over at him and then back at me. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”
“No, but thanks.”
He nods once. “I’ll let him know you’re waiting for him.”
“Thank you.”
I take a seat by the window, looking over at Michael as the other guy says something to him. Michael looks up and waves at me and then gives me the pointer finger, showing one minute.
Literally a minute later, he’s walking my way. I stand up and say, “Hi.”
