Page 85 of Lovingly Restored

“Nurse.”

“She was just here. Are you in pain?” I scan the room for the call button.

“My nurse.”

“Okay, Mummo, hang on.”

The call button is roped around the bed rails, but I hesitate, thumb hovering. She means Ashlyn. Of course. If I call her, will she come? I want to believe she will, but I won’t blame her if she doesn’t. I owe it to Mummo to make an attempt.

I grab my phone. “I’ll try to get her, Mummo. I’ll try.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Ashlyn

Isaac’ssharpwordsrunon repeat through my mind as I unpack my things. Anna was a life saver by going back to get my plants and leftover belongings.

Easy access, you know?

Was it easy for us to live on top of each other as strangers?

Was it easy to keep our relationship from his dad as long as we did?

It didn’t seem easy at all to build me a planter box and take a trip three hours away so we could be alone.

I carry another plant to my windowsill; the ceramic pot barely fits on the ledge. The lack of outdoor space, the small windows, the noises from neighbours. Everything about my apartment seems too tight. Like it isn’t the correct fit for me anymore and I’m outgrowing my surroundings. I miss the comforting creak of the porch swing in the evenings and the way Mummo hummed between sips of her tea each morning. And at night, each time I roll to a new space in my bed, the sheets are cold. My body can toss and turn all it wants, it won’t find Isaac’s warmth. I groan, pressing my palms hard against my face.

Had Isaac been open and honest with me we could have workedtogetherto find a solution. I think knowing that he didn’t see me as a teammate that could work with him on a problem is what hurts the most. I sigh, giving up on finding a decent spot for the philodendron. Some of the leaves are yellowing anyways. My phone chimes, telling me it’s time to nap before work tonight. Sitting around living on my savings won’t do me any good so I took some work at an assisted living facility. Night shifts are as brutal as I remember. An unruly philodendron vine falls off the windowsill. Impatient, I tuck it back up, but I nudge the pot and it slips from the ledge. I surprise myself when I catch it easily. A bubble of anger inflates in my gut.

Easy access, you know?

“It’s not fucking easy!” I scream, wrenching my arm back and throwing the plant at the ground. Cracks appear in turquoise ceramic, but the result is underwhelming, dulled by the carpet. I sink to my knees, hovering over damp soil spilling across my living room.

“Damn,” I whisper, bowing my head at the extra work I created for myself.

Nothing about breaking up with Isaac Lauri is easy.

I glare at the sealed cereal box on my two-seater kitchen table. The colourful parrot mocks me from his sugary, two-dimensional perch. After working a night shift, I should really eat some breakfast before trying to get some sleep. Yesterday I ate my last two eggs, but when I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work, I didn’t head for the cooler. Instead, I found myself staring at rows and rows of cereal, tears streaking my faded makeup like a total basket case. When a grocery boy asked me if I was alright, I grabbed the closest item to me and hightailed it to the self-checkout. So, now it’s just me and my feathered friend having a sunrise showdown.

“Dammit.” My forehead thuds against the table.

I’m still not used to the night shift or taking care of a floor full of patients. Most of all, I’m not used to my empty apartment. How did I manage to get so comfortable sharing a bathroom with three people? To brushing against Isaac in the kitchen while he brewed coffee and I steeped tea. Screw it. Hunger wins, and I tear open the top of the cereal box, not even caring that I didn’t neatly slide my finger beneath the seal. Milk sloshes onto the table when I pour. The first bite is the perfect combination of sweet and cold, the frosted o’s crunchy.

“Oh, why does it have to begood?”

A salty tear drips into my meal. I devour the whole bowl, drinking the pastel-coloured milk, too. Did he have the same thing for breakfast? The bowl joins the other unwashed dishes in the sink, and I move on autopilot to my room. I barely remember showering, but the vanilla smell of my wet hair on my pillow reassures me that I at least cleaned myself. One more night shift then days off. That’s when I’ll climb out of this. It’s time to pull it together. As I weave together more lies, a fitful sleep creeps over me.

My lungs burn as I shoot upright and suck in a breath. I’m too hot, pulling at the collar of my tee, fanning my face and neck. I can’t have been asleep for long because I’m still exhausted.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Skittering across the surface.

“Oh my god! I’m trying to get some sleep,” I say, reaching for the sound that infiltrated my less than peaceful slumber.

“What!” I snap.

“Ash?”

Isaac.I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a breath so shaky he can probably hear it on his end. He’s called before, and I’ve let it ring.

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