raining. Thundering rain, plinking the windows, some soundtrack of melancholy to match my mood.
I’d stopped crying at some point when the shadows were still deep and full of sullen sadness. But I couldn’t say I was empty. I wished I were. I wished I’d felt nothing.
Apathy would be a release.
It was the first night I’d spent alone in weeks. I’d never noticed how cold my bed was, how empty it could be with nothing but my insubstantial body to fill the space.
Tommy was gone. And I couldn’t help wondering if I’d lost him forever.
The long hours of the night had been haunted by his words, his voice, the hard look of pain, the instant distance between us. Haunted by my agreement with everything he’d said.
He was right. Every word, every accusation. I should have told him the second Janessa threatened me. I shouldn’t have tried to handle it without him, not as disadvantaged as I was by inexperience. And I never, ever should have written about him for Janessa.
I’d thought I was helping, but I’d only hurt him. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t intended to.
As he’d pointed out, I had whether I’d meant to or not.
The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and I’d paved mine with brimstone, thinking it was gold.
But I was blind. I always had been.
I shifted, suddenly unable to stand being in this bed for another minute. Stubborn Claudius made no move to relocate, just cracked one green eye and seemed to tell me to relax.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, gently shoving him off me.
I threw off the covers, swinging my legs over the edge where they dangled, toes pointed at the ground. I’d start the day without sleep, and as such, it seemed that the day before had never ended. I didn’t know what in the world I’d do with myself.
I should have been sitting next to him at the signing, managing his line, taking pictures, sneaking kisses. I should have been in his arms. But his arms were folded, closed, unwilling.
With a shuddering sigh and a blink to clear my vision, I slid off the bed, my feet landing on the rug with almost no sound. Gus hopped to his feet from his station at the foot of my bed, but even he was subdued, his tail wagging lazily as he ambled over to me, ears flat.
I ran a hand over the curve of his skull. “Good morning, Gus.”
He opened his mouth in a panting smile, leaning into my hand.
We made our way into the silent living room, the still kitchen. It was odd to see everything in exactly the same place as it had been when I stumbled to my room. Things were always imperceptibly different—a slight shift of the coffee pot, an errant glass of water left on the island, a hand towel moved from one handle to another. But everything was unchanged, untouched.
Loneliness unfurled in my chest like a bloom of nightshade.
My mind was a thousand miles away on Tommy, but my body went through a series of motions as I made coffee, ate food I didn’t taste, greeted Amanda when she came to walk Gus, dodging her questions about why I was home, why I wasn’t in Chicago, asking if I wanted to walk Gus myself.
The last thing I wanted were photographers hassling me about where Tommy was. I probably would have blubbered and told them everything in the hopes that they’d make me feel better.
It was then that I realized I really, really needed a hug.
I decided to go by my house and spend the day with the girls. It was Saturday. Everyone was off work today. Maybe I’d even stay there tonight.
The last thing I wanted was to sleep in that empty bed without Tommy again.
Pants. I needed pants and probably a bra, though I might be able to get away with a sweatshirt. If I put on a bra, I’d at least feel like I tried. So I shuffled into my closet in search of the bare minimum I could use to make myself presentable. I shucked off my pajama pants and opened the drawer where my leggings lived, immediately overcome with tears at the sight of all the sweatpants and yoga pants and otherwise elastic-waisted bottoms that Tommy had gotten for me.
I reached for a pair of leggings through a sheet of tears and hurried out of the closet, feeling like a thief, knowing I didn’t belong. Not here, not with