Page 28 of Reign or Shine

My body instantly freezes while my brain goes into hyperdrive. Who could that be? Why were they here? Could it be Henry? I didn’t let myself think about how that last question made my heart rate pick up.

My laptop falls of my lap and onto the sofa when I realize the person at the door is actually jiggling the handle. Shit. Had I locked it when I staggered in days ago?

The answer to that was no. A huge fucking no.

My front door swings open and the person who steps through has me sitting up at attention.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands swiftly going to her hips, Shirley gives me a look that’s a mixture of annoyed and fed up.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing here? I’m checking in on you.” She grimaces as she looks around my apartment. “And from the look of things”—she pauses—“ew.”

I roll my eyes at her. “It’s not that bad,” I say in defense, giving myself a moment to take in my place through another’s eyes.

Okay, sure. There were a lot of containers on my kitchen counter and yeah, I had about half a dozen mugs lined up on my coffee table, but the place wasn’t smelly or anything. I didn’t have food on the floor or stains on my shirt.

I discreetly looked down at my chest. Yup, no food stains.

“Oh honey,” she said sarcastically, “it’s cute that you think that. But this is level four heartbreak.”

“How many levels are there?” I pray for more than ten.

“Five.”

Shit.

“I’m fine, Shirley.”

She makes her way through the apartment and after rounding the sofa, she sits beside me. Or tries to. She has to flick multiple peanut butter cup wrappers to the ground before she can comfortably glare at me.

“No, you’re not, Ellie.”

My mouth opens, ready to tell her again that everything is fine and I’m healing, but I stop. There’s legitimate concern on her face. Shirley is a hard shell to crack and a very blunt woman, but once you’re in her circle, she’s as protective as a mama bear.

I can’t lie to her. And I can’t keep lying to myself.

Pressing my lips tight together, I let the emotions I was holding back come to the surface.

“I’m not okay,” I whisper seconds before the floodgates open. Awkwardly, Shirley opens her arms and I fall right into them. Clinging to the soft fabric of her blouse, I tell her everything.

While it feels good to get the story out, it’s also bittersweet to relive the memories. I can so vividly recall the feel of Henry’s stubble across my fingertips. The deep timbre of his laugh. By the time I’m finished, I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever felt in my life.

“You love him,” she says simply, letting her words hang in the silence of the apartment.

Lifting my head from the tissue I was wiping my tear-streaked face with, I scowl at her. That’s all she got from the story? That I loved him? Captain Obvious much?

“So what are you going to do about it?” she continues, like the answer is simple.

Sniffling, I scrunch up my face and blink at her. Wasn’t she supposed to be a supporting shoulder to cry on? Someone to nod and agree with every decision I’ve made and top up my glass of wine? If I was drinking wine, that is.

“Ex-excuse me?” I ask her through hiccups.

“I asked what you were going to do about it. This whole sad act is kind of pathetic.”

Straightening from my slouched position, I gasp at her. “I am not!”

She leans back, slowly and purposefully raising one eyebrow. Goddamn her.

---