Page 88 of Rainstorm

“Hijo, I need you to come home.” Before I could ask what the matter was, she whispered, “It’s your father.”

After hearing those words, a heavy black cloud loomed over what had been the happiest moment of my life until then.

Chapter 21

Rose

Present day

This is the last time you’re allowed to cry. The last time!

I’ve been repeating that mantra ever since I left the townhouse on Saturday night. It’s Monday and after a busy day at the office, I’m back home again.

Thankfully I haven’t seen Ariel, because I’ve been a mess.

In fact, I’m still a mess.

I’m so hollow. So, so empty.

Chase broke my heart one more time, he touched my soul and changed my future.

Because I let him.

The decisions I made in the name of love have changed my life and my goals. I was a dreamer, I believed everything he said, all the plans we made. Now, I need to wake up and set new goals, new dreams, map out a new future for myself.

Because I’m worth it and I deserve nothing less. Because no woman in this crazy world was meant to live like this, to be so miserable, when we were created to be happy. And I’m determined to be happy. It’s going to take time, but I’m ready for a fresh start.

After taking a long shower I’m feeling almost human again. Despite not being hungry, I force myself to eat some fruit and yogurt, and I eat in silence in the kitchen, waiting for Ariel to get back.

It’s getting late, and Miss Wilkinson still hasn’t appeared. Weird.

By eleven, I’m making myself a linden tea to help me sleep, knowing that tomorrow will be crazy busy in the office. But sleep eludes me. My heart still aches, plus I’m worried that my friend still isn’t home. Where is she?

Thing is, I don’t know how to track her down. Ariel doesn’t have a cell phone, she refuses to catch up to the 21st century, and I don’t want to worry Mr. Hatz, her boss and the apartment owner.

Finally, the tea kicks in and I get some sleep dozing on the couch, until a noise startles me sounding like a bull in a china shop—there’s no other way to describe the racket Ariel makes as she come in.

“Ssshhhh,” she whispers loudly to Lord alone knows who. “We’re gonna wake up Rosie.”

Oh my… is she tipsy? No, she’s not tipsy, Ariel is full on drunk.

“Rosie is already awake,” I say, turning on the light behind me.

“Shit!” she mutters, scowling like a petulant child.

“Ariel, where’ve you been till this hour? And how on earth have you ended up in such a state? I’ve been so worried.”

She pulls a face as she stumbles around. The apartment is so small that after a couple of steps she’s right by me.

“Drowning my sorrows in alcohol. What else am I supposed to do when nothing is ever good enough?”

What the hell? What’s happened to Ariel, the eternal optimist?

“What are you talking about, silly?” As far as I’m concerned, all the baking she’s been testing out on me has been an outstanding success.

“Do you think I always want to stay the same, never getting anywhere?” she asks angrily. “No, Roselynn, I know how it feels to be starving, to be cold and hungry and desperate, and I don’t ever want to go back to that. I have big plans for my business. I want to make something of myself, be someone who earns people’s respect, but the trouble is, I need something I don’t have. Money. And to get money, I need a fucking business plan to take to the damn stuck-up suit at the bank. And where in the hell am I going to get a fucking business plan?”

“I don’t understand. You said you had everything under control.” I sit up on the couch, making space for her to sit beside me before she keels over—she’s so drunk she can barely stand.

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