Page 63 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Snuffling, I turn and head back into the house, trying not to look at the purple front door that caught Laurent’s attention last night. I scrub the tears from my face, a new determination condensing in my belly.

I’m going to that meeting anyway, alone. And I’ll do my damnedest to rock the hell out of it, to convince those investors that Blush is worth investing in no matter my relationship status.

Because screw Laurent. Sure, he may have duped me, but I won’t let him take one more thing from me than the night we spent together. No fucking way.

Stalking upstairs, I head for the bathroom. I’m going to run the hottest bath I can stand and pamper myself so hard to prepare for my meeting.

“I won’t let him ruin this for me,” I inform Sirloin, who hopped up on the bathroom’s counter when I started the bath. “I refuse.”

Sirloin blinks as if he understands and approves. But it doesn’t matter what he or anyone else thinks. This incident with Laurent has shown me more than ever that I can rely on no one but myself, and that I need to woman up in this department.

Pouring foaming bath powder into the steaming water and watching its bright colors bubble and swirl, I promise myself that I’m done wondering if I’m good enough, done waiting to be recognized, done asking for permission to love myself as is.

This is a new day — no, the beginning of a new era. And I’m going to start this new era by informing the investors that it’s me they have to impress, not the other way around.

Laurent

Iwoke to the sound of a gentle but insistent buzzing. It took me a moment to emerge from the decadent dream I was having about a certain app designer. When I did, I was delighted to find myself looking straight at her beautiful sleeping face.

The buzzing had come again, though. My phone, I realized. Not wanting to wake Shira, I’d reached for it and opened it to see what message awaited me.

And just like that, the pervasive high of last night dropped like a stone. There were two texts from my dad, informing me that Mom was having another episode and that it seemed to be worse. He wanted me home.

Easing myself from the bed, I’d reached for my discarded clothes, and had immediately come face to face with a large gray cat staring me down from where he sat near Shira’s feet. He looked completely unimpressed.

I can’t say that I blame him.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I put on yesterday’s clothes, used the bathroom, and tiptoed down the stairs. The cat followed, glowering.

Down in the kitchen, I wondered if I should put some coffee on for when Shira woke up, then decide against it. In such a small house, my rummaging seemed likely to wake her.

Instead, I opened my phone to text her. But another message appeared at the top of the screen. A message from Dad.

I’d swallowed and tapped on it. The message said he was bringing Mom to the emergency room on his own and to meet him there.

Head spinning and heart running like a horse in the Sonoma County Fair’s annual race, I’d launched myself out of Shira’s home, down the path, and into my car.

I’m just now peeling into the hospital’s parking lot. I made it here in record time, but anything could have happened in the meantime. Jogging into the E.R., I pause at reception.

The clerk recognizes me. I don’t have to ask a thing, he just nods down the hall and says, “Room seven. They’re just getting her settled.”

“Thanks,” I say. He gives me a sympathetic look as I hurry through the wide doors separating the waiting room from the charged environment of the central emergency room.

The door to room seven is open. I take a second and steel myself for whatever’s waiting inside, then go in.

Mom’s in bed, with a nurse standing over her taking her vitals so I can’t see her face. Dad immediately moves to my side, clasping my forearm.

“What happened?” I murmur.

“Same as last time. At least, that’s what I thought at first. But then she started shaking and wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want to wait and see what came next.”

I wrap my arms around my father. Mom’s not the only one who’s been shaking. He’s trembling too. I curse myself for not being there when they needed me.

Releasing Dad, I move around the edge of the room so I can get a good look at Mom. He’s right. Even reclining in bed, palms resting by her sides, her hands are fluttering like she’s trying to shoo some pesky bugs away.

But she’s not trying to do anything. She’s just laying there, eyes closed, face pallid.

“I’ll be right back,” the nurse says, giving me and Dad a smile that’s meant to be reassuring but doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She disappears, then re-materializes a moment later with a partner.

---