Page 25 of Sunshine & Sinful

Satisfied with my reply, or lack thereof, Sunshine escapes out the bedroom door. The man from the night before, the considerate one who undressed me, wiped away my tears, and cuddled me in bed, is gone, replaced by whoever this creature is who’s okay with running away after we… did whatever that was.

Heaving a sigh loud enough that I hope they can hear me in the living room, I pad my way into the bathroom. Shoulders deflated, heart bruised, I crank the shower to metaphorical Hell hot and let the water wash over me. I wash and overthink. Overthink and wash. I come up with every reason under the moon and stars why Sunshine would act this way, but I come up blank. The longer I try, the more my brain hurts until a headache pounds in my temples.

“Just go talk to them,” I remind myself as I wrap a fluffy towel around my chest and exit the bathroom. On autopilot, I dress in leggings and an orange, off-the-shoulder tank sans bra. I check my phone on the nightstand to find a slew of messages from Todd and a few from Till.

Till: You can thank me later.

Fat chance.

Till: Don’t forget to listen to what he has to say.

Uh-huh. Sure.

I don’t bother responding to the nuisance that is my best friend and move to Todd’s texts.

Todd: I don’t know what got into me at the restaurant. I’m sorry. Please message me when you get this, so I know you’re okay.

Kali, please let me know you’re safe.

Don’t be cruel, Kali. I know I messed up, but please message me back to let me know you made it home, okay?

If I don’t hear from you by noon today, I’m coming to check on you.

I peek at the clock on the nightstand. It’s a quarter past nine.

Knowing that I might not get a chance if I don’t do it now, I text Todd back, even if I don’t know where we stand after everything that happened last night and this morning. We need to talk. That seems to be the trend of the day.

Me: Hey, sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I crashed when I got home, but I’m safe now. I’ll check back in with you a bit later today. I’ve got some things I need to handle before I do. I hope you’re doing well.

With that out of the way, I plug my phone back into its charger and stand to face the inevitable. There are two men in my living room. Two men I haven’t said more than a few sentences to in months. This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday.

For an extra layer of cosmic support, I make a pit stop in the bathroom to brush my hair and slide on a black cage necklace from one of the many jewelry hooks on thewall. From the selenite bowl on my bathroom counter, I close my eyes and let the universe choose the right crystal for me.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth as warmth encompasses my palm, and I wrap two fingers around the tumbled stone it has chosen.

I set it on the counter and open my eyes.

A beautiful aquamarine crystal glimmers at me.

Pressing my lips together, I quietly chuckle. Of all the options in my bowl, of course, the universe would gift me with a throat chakra crystal. A stone of courage, calm, and emotional balance. It promotes strong communication and helps with closure.

I snort.

Communicationandclosure.

That sounds about right.

Sliding the black wooden bead up my necklace, I drop the crystal into its woven cage and return it to its place.

It’s time.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, out of the frying pan and into the fire, we go.

Wish me luck.

NINE

Nestling a plate of freshly cut fruit and fluffy waffles with syrup in my lap, I fork another piece of pineapple into my mouth as the man beside me on the couch remains eerily quiet, and my ex-husband, in the chair across us, watches me eat like some food porn weirdo.

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