Page 246 of By His Play

Rolling my eyes, I place Prince in Kian’s lap as I pass him in favor of the kitchen.

My apartment is the opposite of baby-proof, and every time he’s here, I freak out that he’s going hurt himself and it’ll be all my fault.

After handing out beers, I grab my boy back and sit with him on the floor.

Kingston passes me his bag, and I grab a few toys to entertain him with.

My skin prickles with both of my older brothers’ attention on me.

Questions are coming. It’s just a matter of how long they make me wait.

“Have you spoken to Effie?” Kingston eventually asks.

“Not since Friday night, no. Why?”

“Do you really think we’re that stupid?” Kian asks, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, concern filling his eyes.

59

EFFIE

Idon’t call in sick to work unless I can’t drag my ass out of bed.

But this morning, I was really tempted to.

Returning to the world after my weekend of solitude and heartbreak was terrifying.

Putting it off wasn’t going to get me anywhere, though. So, I forced myself to do my morning yoga flow in the hope it would give me some motivation, before getting ready for work.

Everyone in the office greeted me as if everything was normal. As if my world hadn’t completely imploded over the past few weeks.

I go through the motions of dealing with emails, returning phone calls and attending meetings.

Physically, I’m present. Mentally, I’m fucked.

Throughout the day, I get messages from Brax, Tate, and Lori checking in on me. I reply because it would be rude not to, but I don’t tell them the truth. Instead, I lie and say that I’m coping, that work is a welcome distraction.

It’s not.

I’m not sure anything would be a good enough distraction from the pain in my chest.

All I wanted to do was make Grams happy in her final weeks.

It was one simple lie that I didn’t think would change anything.

But look at me now.

I’ve lost everything.

My hand lifts to my necklace, and a sob bubbles up my throat.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I fight to keep my tears at bay.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I focus on the email I was writing.

I only manage a few more sentences before the phone on my desk rings.

“Good afternoon, Effie. I have someone down at reception for you.”

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