Page 111 of Every Little Thing

“I’ve got stuff to get to,” I said, turning around.

“Paisley, wait,” she said, fumbling over herself after me. “We’re just worried because ever since Harper—”

I stopped at the door to the back, turning back to her with my face burning, a hotness in my throat I wasn’t used to. “I don’t know what makes you think I want to talk about her.”

Kay paused, hanging there in front of the endcap display, eyes wide. “I just don’t think—”

“I don’t want any tea. If you’re not here to shop, I’ve got work to do.”

She winced. “I’m sorry—”

“Bye then,” I said, turning back to the door, pushing into the back. A pile of paperwork that needed doing. I sat down at the cluttered desk in front of it, staring down at the papers for what might have been hours, before I heard Kay’s footsteps solemnly leaving.

Funny. It had been Kay telling me I was free to be something new, something different. Now I was being something new, and it was snapping at Kay for trying to bring me something I liked when I wasn’t feeling well.

Funny how the universe worked.

I scrolled through my phone, through all the pictures, just looking at her face. Just looking ather.

I should have deleted them. That was part of healing, right? Needed to round up the pictures and delete them, needed to cart out all her things and trash them. But right now, it felt tantamount to cutting off my own arm.

She was so perfectly beautiful. I just hated how in every picture, there was that look in her eyes, like she wasn’t really there. Like it wasn’t really her.

I wasn’t the only one putting things on. Wasn’t the only one pretending to be something I wasn’t. And I realized too late.

The rest of the shift was excruciatingly long, but I handed it off to Hazel at seven—she’d only just started working here, so I was still just giving her half-shifts at closing, and I knew I looked awful when even Hazel barely spoke to me during the changeover—and I headed back up to my house. Got cleaned up, went over to Emberlynn’s for dinner, spent the whole time listening to Emberlynn and Aria talk, stirring my soup idly.

I’d used to love this soup. Maybe Emberlynn screwed up and that’s why it tasted like cardboard. I had to believe that.

I was early to bed after that. Woke up a quarter to four and dragged myself up despite everything in my body screaming for me to lie back down, curl up and rest. The pain, the exertion, was like a knife that cut through the haze in my head, and I needed all I could get.

The bakery. Early morning baking. Opening for the regular morning crew. Watching the sunrise through the tiny windows I had in the back, cracked to let in the biting cold against the sweltering heat of the bakery. Tidying the shopfloor after the first peak. Ringing up Emberlynn when she came in early for a baguette. Getting Gwen her rolls for a nice dinner tonight, ringing up a cake-for-two for Annabel saying Priscilla had been stressed out of her mind lately and needed a surprise, andAnders’s mini-cupcake. Asking after Nancy—still not doing well today, seeing the doctor. Emberlynn passed me an invite to a casual get-together at her place, and the tone in her message said she already knew I’d refuse.

I said no.

Closed up, cleaned up. Took over at the bookstore. A little busier today, thankfully. Kept me working steadily until close, and I went right back home, picked together a couple of things from the fridge I could get myself to eat, and then to bed.

Was I dreaming? The whole thing felt surreal, like images imposed over one another. A hazy, empty day led into another, and it was only in uncomfortable stabs of lucidity here and there that I saw myself. Kneading a bread dough by hand and stopping partway, looking up across the room at nothing. Cleaning the display case for the donuts after the afternoon rush had passed and stopping in the empty shop, looking at my faint reflection in the glass. Fixing books on a shelf in the bookstore that had been put back wrong, except I took one down and then questioned what the order was supposed to be and overthought it until I had no idea how it was supposed to work. Checking the register to make sure the count was right and getting the wrong number, doing it again and getting a different wrong number, doing it again and getting a different wrong number. Cleaning the bakery floor until I could see myself in the reflection. Scrubbing the counter and scrubbing the same spot over, and over, and over, and over, and…

The bell rang. Not the one on the door, but the one on the counter, while I was standing literally right there. I blinked. The bakery. I’d been in the middle of midday cleanup and zoned out. Priscilla stood on the other side of the counter, her finger hovering over the bell, giving me an inquisitive look.

“Oh, hi,” I said. “I was thinking about stuff. What’s up? Want a recommendation? I personally recommend the most expensive cake.”

She smiled softly. “I’m here to take you to a party.”

I blinked slowly. “This might blow your mind, but I’m, uh, I’m working.”

“Trust me. It’s been blowing my mind for months seeing you working so much.”

I looked away. Priscilla was not who I needed right now. “I’ve got stuff to be doing.”

“Mm-hm. It can wait.”

“I’m in the middle of my shift.”

“Not anymore, you’re not. Did you not notice I turned the sign to closed, turned down the lights…?”

I scowled up at the ceiling. How badlyhadI zoned out?

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