Page 20 of Beautiful Broken Love

He was gone, and I was completely shattered.

TEN

DAVINA

I gasped, springing up in bed as I scanned my bedroom.

It was dark. My heart was pounding. My throat felt like sandpaper.

I was searching for someone. Searching forLew.

I reached for the water on my nightstand and guzzled some of it down. With a wet gasp, I pressed my back to the headboard and dug the heels of my palms into my eye sockets, fighting the memories and controlling my breaths.

Breathe, Vina. Just breathe. You’re home. You’re safe. Just breathe.

I settled into bed again, sniffling as I swallowed my emotions.

There are no words to truly define grief, but if I had to imagine them, I’d say grief is a beast who likes to stomp, claw, and bite until you’re stripped of everything. Then, when you finally gain some balance, it returns for another round, and the cycle continues, until you’re nothing but a hollow shell waving a white flag.

That’s grief, I’m afraid. And it’s so damn cruel.

I woke up groggy when my alarm went off.

It was a Saturday, and I didn’t have to work, so it was completely unnecessary for me to be awake at seven in the morning. I’d found that if I stayed in bed too long, though, I’d never leave.

Perched on an elbow, I peered around my room as strips of sunlight lingered on the walls and highlighted my wedding photos as well as the old hoodies and baseball caps hanging on the wall rack. It was better to get up and keep the routine.

I got ready for the day and made a list in the kitchen of groceries I would need. Later, as I shopped, my phone rang in my purse, and I dug it out. When I saw who was calling, I beamed.

“Octavia!” I answered with a squeal.

“Vina!” she sang.

“You finally had time to call me back, huh?”

“Nah-uh. Don’t be like that, okay?” my sister said, laughing. “I’m a busy woman. And besides, not everyone has their life together like you do.”

“Girl, bye. I wish I had my life together.” I pushed the shopping cart forward.

“I was thinking about heading to Charlotte to see you next weekend. Roger’s parents are going out of town, and they’re taking him with them, so I’ll be free.”

“Who is Roger, again?”

She sucked her teeth. “The kid I nanny now. He’s such a spoiled fucking brat, Vina. You know he got gum stuck in one of my locs.”

I gasped as I grabbed a tub of vanilla ice cream from one of the freezers. “No, he did not!”

“Yes! I went to my loctician, and she had to cut the loc off. I wanted to cry. He’s lucky it was on the back of my head. Can’t really see where it was cut. But still. My hair is my joy, and he tried to rob me of it. Little asshole.”

I huffed a laugh. “Isn’t he, like, three?”

“Yeah, but I’m telling you, Vina. Three-year-olds are emotional terrorists.”

I couldn’t help laughing at that. I didn’t have any kids, but I knew many people who did, and all of them had shared a gripe or two about toddlerhood.

“Well, if you come next weekend, I’ll have the guest room ready.” I paused as I scanned the shelf for cinnamon.

“Have you talked to Mama?” Octavia asked, and I stopped my eyes from shooting to the ceiling.

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