Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He doesn’t move as I climb off the bed because I won’t let him see me cry.
I’ll never let a man see me cry again.
I make quick work of getting dressed and am jogging down the steps when Tate comes out of his room.
“Aurora,” he says, from the landing.
I pause, stopping and looking up at him.
The pain in his eyes is the same I feel ripping through me. There’s no point in making it worse.
I tuck my chin, bolt to my car, and go home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aurora
“Honey, I’m home!” I say as I enter the salon.
I thought it would be a funny way to announce myself, but it just stings my heart. Too soon.
“Out front,” Jamie yells. “Bring a can of disinfectant with you, please!”
“Sounds like I’m walking into something.” I rummage around in the storage closet. “Where are you keeping the cleaning stuff now? Wait! Found it!”
I snag the can and carry it with me to the front of the building.
“Here,” Jamie says, wiggling her fingers without looking at me. “Gimme.”
“What are we disinfecting?” I ask, peering down at the floor, and see … nothing. “What are you looking at?”
“Something moved right there. By the bottom of the chair.”
I look again, but all I see is tile. “There’s nothing there, Jamie.”
She holds the can like a weapon—arm extended, eye lined up with the bottom of the barrel—and fires away.
I cough, fanning my face, and step back. “Okay! I think you got it.”
She stops and peers down again. Unsatisfied, she blasts it for another five seconds for good measure.
“You told me you’ve been lonely, but you haven’t said anything about seeing things,” I say, hopping up in my old chair. “That might be a symptom of something.”
“I’m not seeing things. It moved. I swear.”
“Sure.”
She rolls her eyes but comes to me with wide arms. “I missed you so damn much.”
Her embrace is wide and warm. While it doesn’t do the same things for me that Tate’s hugs do, it’s appreciated, nonetheless.
“The place looks good,” I say, spinning in a half circle to observe my old haunts. “New lights in the windows? Nice.”
“And a new basket for magazines. Oh! I finally replaced the cute little hand soap dispenser in the bathroom.”
“It’s about time.”
“Right?” She sits in her chair and sighs. “You look good.”
I half smile. “Yeah, well, thanks for lying to me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, I’ve known you in various stages of life. I can tell when something is wrong. Spill it.”
Tate’s words ravage my mind again.
“So I waited my whole life for the one girl who I want to spend my life with, and then I get told to hang on. She might want to be with you. She might not. She might have your children. She might not.”
He didn’t tell me he loved me. Does he not love me? Does he think this is all too hard now?
I consider telling her about my fight with Tate, but it feels too heavy. My body hasn’t processed it yet. And if my hormones haven’t adjusted to meet my needs, I can’t even start talking about it.
“Can we start with you?” I ask.
“Sure. You know I love to talk about myself.”
I smile. “What’s been happening around here? Catch me up with all the drama.”
“You must really not want to talk if you’re asking for drama. You always hate when the gossip starts.”
I shrug. She’s not wrong.
“Maddie was in yesterday,” Jamie says. “New boyfriend, but it’s not a new boyfriend. It’s the one who left her at the bar downtown on Labor Day weekend.”
“Oh yeah. I remember him. We had a name for him. What was it?”
“Dill Boy?” Jamie asks, shaking her head.
“No! Gherkins Boy! She said his penis looked like a sweet gherkin.”
“Ha!” Jamie laughs. “I’ll have to remind her about that.”
“What about Onessa? I’ve been wondering about her cats.”
Jamie nods knowingly. “Tigerlily has passed.”
“Aw!”
“I know, I know. There was a funeral. I couldn’t make it. Beebop seems to still be grieving. Onessa might get a new cat, but not another orange one. She’s not sure.”
“She should,” I say, nodding.
“That’s what I told her. Oh, and Phil was in. Remember him? He brought tuna salad in a margarine container and ate it while he waited.”
My stomach recoils at the memory. We couldn’t get that smell out of here for a week.
“You know how we thought Phil had a thing for Barbara?”
“Yeah …”
“We were so right. That’s unproven right now, but I heard it from an excellent source.”
I laugh, the brick on my chest lifting just a bit.
Jamie watches me, trying to decide whether it’s safe to test the waters on my drama. I still don’t want to talk about it, but she is my best friend, and I could use an honest opinion.
I sigh. “Tate and I got into our first fight. Well, I don’t know if it was a fight or not. We had a robust disagreement. How’s that?”