Page 58 of Leave Before I Love You
As I pull a sweatshirt over my head and walk out of the bathroom, I’m hit with a memory of Henry’s handsome bearded face, cherishing the peeling skin of my nose and chest. I hadn’t brushed my hair in days, my face was bare, and my body crusted with building salt and sweat, and it didn’t matter.
He could seeme. Looking at myself in the mirror, I find it hard to imagine how.
I shake the thought away as I step back into the hospital room and tuck my tattered sweater into the hospital-provided plastic bag with my other belongings. It isn’t much—a dirty orange bikini, the waist pack I packed in vain, and an utterly ruined pair of Golden Goose shoes.
The door swings open after a manic set of knocks, and June, Beau, and both my parents trail inside in a single-file line. Juniper is the first to pull me in for a hug, and now that I’m standing with two entirely free arms, I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her shoulders in return.
“Good morning,” I say with a small laugh when she doesn’t let go.
Beau pulls her gingerly away, and I search the two of them carefully, my eyebrows pulling together. “Where’s Addy?”
“We left her with a sitter this morning. I wanted to get up and go get your phone as soon as the store opened, but then Henry called and said his assistant Cara was already taking care of it.”
“You talked to Henry?” I ask, my voice undeniably hopeful.
“Yeah. Last night and then again this morning. He’s been asking how you are.”
“He has?” I want to know more, to ask what Beau’s told himabout me and if there’s any way we can arrange to go to his floor and see him, but before I can, the door swings open again.
Five older women—whom I knowverywell—march in, armed with balloons, flowers, and gift bags. I’m surprised to see them, given how tight I’ve been told the security is to get in here, but knowing their connections with the whole Miami judicial scene, I shouldn’t be.
I doubt there’s a single door in the whole county these bad-ass geriatrics couldn’t get in if they wanted to.
“Oh, Avery!” Ethel exclaims, rushing to my bedside. “We thought we lost you! But we saw you on the news! The news, Avery!”
Blanche, Dottie, Joanne, and Sarabeth follow close behind, all dressed to the nines in Chanel tweed, Burberry trench coats, and Yves Saint Laurent blouses. I know their wardrobes by heart because I picked out every piece.
“We had no idea what happened to you, Avery!” Sarabeth exclaims as the five of them hover around me so tightly, I end up pushed back into sitting on my bed. “We all tried to call you a hundred times, and then Blanche saw you on the news—saying you were missing!”
Dottie moves to grab my hand. “Honey, we were so worried about you.”
“So worried,” Ethel adds as she reaches out to run her hands through my hair.
“Well, there’s no need to worry,” I tell them. “I’m back and I’m okay.”
“Goodness, Avery,” Blanche says on a dramatic exhale of air while she clutches her pearls—literal Tiffany pearls. “You gave us such a scare.”
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Dottie chimes in, wagging a finger at me.
“Never again,” Ethel agrees. “I swear, you must have one thousand missed calls and text messages between the five of us.”
“I would,” I answer with a shrug and smile. “But I no longerhave my phone. It’s…lost.” My voice shakes involuntarily, no doubt a trauma response to the morning Henry pitched it. I thought he was gone, dead, hurt. I thought…
A throat clears from behind my five elderly gal pals, and it’s only then that I realize my family is standing there completely bewildered by their presence.
My mom leans toward my dad, whispering, “Who are these women?”
“Oh, you must think we’re so rude!” Ethel answers before I can. “I’m Ethel and this is Joanne, Sarabeth, Blanche, and Dottie,” she introduces each of them. “We’re Avery’s clients.”
“And friends,” Dottie adds, and Ethel nods.
“Of course, Avery is such a dear friend to us all. It’s just icing on the cake that she’s been our stylist for the past year.”
“Stylist?” Mom repeats quietly, her confusion deepening, but none of my elderly gal pals seems to notice. They’re more focused on giving me hugs and shoving their handkerchiefs at me as they realize how upset I’ve gotten.
I’m trying to keep it together, but not being able to find Henry now, even in this crowd of people, while the memory of that morning on the island replays in my head has me feeling some kind of way.
“You okay, honey?” Dottie asks, taking the lead, while the other women look away in what I know is an attempt to keep from overwhelming me.
