“Okay, well, if you need anything?—”
“I know where to find you.” The words came out sharper than I intended them to. My best friend meant well, and she’d been nothing short of amazing as she helped me navigate the past few months.
“Think about coming to brunch Sunday, okay? It’ll be easier with family around.”
She was wrong, but I wouldn’t tell her that. Nothing wouldmake this reunion easier. Not even Tessa’s well-meaning attempts to surround me with love.
“I’ll think about it,” I lied again. I gathered my dirty plate and napkin to take to the trash then climbed out of the booth. Everything ached.
My back.
My feet.
My heart.
I’d kill for a scalding hot bath, but lukewarm would have to do.
“I love you, lady.” Tessa pulled me into a tight hug that made me wince.
“Love you, too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Five minutes later, I was climbing out of my Volvo SUV and trudging through the snow toward the back door.
The key stuck in the lock like it always did, requiring the special wiggle-and-curse combination I’d perfected over the last few weeks. My new house—still strange to think of it that way—sat on Oakpoint Road, three blocks from the lake. It was a decent-sized Victorian painted a faded shade of blue that reminded me of robins’ eggs with good bones and bad wallpaper.
The previous owners had called it a “charming fixer-upper.”
The realtor had called it “a steal.”
I called it my hideaway.
Inside, I kicked off my highly attractive work clogs next to the cardboard boxes that still lined the hallway—the ones I’d promised myself I’d unpack days ago. The wooden floors creaked under my tired feet as I made my way through the kitchen,past where I’d at least managed to set up my coffee maker.
Essentials first.
The December wind rattled the original windows as I walked down the hall toward the guest bath. I really needed to call that handyman Tessa recommended. What was his name? Mike? Mark? Clark? The business card was somewhere in my purse, buried under hospital cafeteria receipts and Ginger Chews wrappers.
With the divorce finally settled last month, I could actually afford to hire help now.Hewould have known exactly who to call about these drafty windows, but... Well, that wasn’t an option right now. Instead, I opened my phone and addedCall Handymanto my ever-growing to-do list.
It could wait until after I’d slept.
Everythingcould wait until after I’d slept.
I peeled away my scrubs, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor. The clawfoot tub beckoned, its vintage charm one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with this place. But no hot baths. Not yet. Not for a while.
Instead, I turned the shower to lukewarm, letting out a resigned sigh as I stepped under the tepid spray.
Here, hidden behind a damask-printed shower curtain, I could let the mask slip. Could let the pain of the festering wounds get the better of me and let the tears fall. No one would ever know.
Soon, though, things were bound to change—I just wasn’t sure which way they’d go.
Three more days. Just three more days, and then... what?
My phone pinged from the vanity, snapping me back frommy moment of self-pity. I made quick work of washing my hair—because, let’s be honest, it was getting gross—and my face, resigning to do the full soap and shave shower before my next shift.
With the water turned off, I stepped out of the tub and toweled off. The bathroom mirror was still fogless as I wrapped myself in the fluffy robe Tessa had given me as a housewarming gift. I checked my phone and read the awaiting text.
RHETT [10:10AM]
