Cursing under my breath, I turned to the table and sat down in front of the tray, ignoring Ruthie’s death stare and navigating to my texts.
* * *
Abram: I love you. I don’t need a picture, I just need you.
* * *
I didn’t need a picture, not if it would be a source of anxiety for her, but she was wrong. We were in this together. If something affected her, it affected me. Reading back over the message, I decided to send one more.
* * *
Abram: What you have to deal with is complete fucking bullshit completely unacceptable. I wish I could do something to help and I shouldn’t have ranted at you. I’m not mad at you, but I would like to punch some physicists right now.
Abram: Not you, obviously.
Abram: I miss you. You’re incredible. I’m awed by you.
* * *
Staring at my phone, I waited for Mona to respond. Ruthie cleared her throat. Obnoxiously. I ignored her. Charlie came back in, took a seat, and began signing photos. Still, I stared, my stomach slowly sinking.
After a few minutes, I set the phone face down on the table and glanced at the tray. A mug, a teapot, cut up wedges of lemon, packets of honey, and a plate with some kind of cookie covered the surface. Ruthie must’ve been a butler in another life.
I poured myself tea, unable to shake a nagging sense of doom. Ruin set up residence in my chest, distracting and tight, telling me I’d fucked up.
But I’ll make it right in New York. I’ll—
“Do you like the tea?” Ruthie asked, somehow making the question sound like a threat.
“Yes. Thank you,” I whispered, so as not to further provoke her ire.
“You’re welcome. The cookies are sugar free and paleo,” Charlie said. He reached for one of the cookies, shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “I made the tea. She assembled the rest and carried it.”
“Fucking paleo asshats,” Ruthie mumbled. “I hate those people.”
“What? Why?” Charlie asked around another bite of a cookie. “Their snacks are pretty good. Clever. I like that they use dates in energy bars.”
Blowing steam off the surface of the tea, I checked my phone again. Nothing. Now my throat not only hurt, it was full of glass shards of regret, making it nearly impossible to swallow.