Maybe that’s why seeing his stuff gone doesn’t lacerate me. Maybe I’m a little bit lucky.
I turn around and meet the eyes of my crew. “Thank you. I appreciate this so much.”
“Do you want me to stay the night?” Olive offers, all kind big eyes and giant heart.
“Anything you need, I’m here for you,” Emerson adds, and my other friends chime in with similar sentiments.
“Thank you, but I’m good,” I say. I love them, but I need a break from sympathy.
“Do you want to stay with Janice and me in Sausalito?” my father offers; he and his new wife have a lovely home on the water, with a view of Richardson Bay from the guest room.
“I appreciate the invite, but I’ll stay here,” I say, because it sort of feels like mine again.
And mostly because their pitying looks—though well-intentioned—might drive me crazy, especially when I’m feeling the tiniest bit of this-is-a-blessing-in-disguise.
“Call me tomorrow,” Emerson says, making her way to the door.
“And don’t answer your mom’s calls,” my dad adds.
“Not a problem. I blocked her already.”
“Good girl,” he says, and they leave.
Once I shut the door, the walls instantly close in.
I’m all alone.
The silence is claustrophobic.
I was wrong. This is the last place I want to be.
Even with all his things gone, I can’t stand being here alone. I don’t want to be by myself, but I don’t want to be with friends right now either.
WhatdoI want?
To be with this city.
Yup. That’s what I need.
I kick off my stupid white satin heels, march into my bedroom, and yank open the closet door, scanning for something to wear that’s not this dress.
Maybe a cute V-neck, or some jeans and cowboy boots. Something that’s the opposite of a wedding gown.
I pluck at the chiffon.
But damn. I like this dress. Hell, I love it. I bought it because it’s my style. It’s fun and pretty.
Screw it.
Might as well make some new memories in this dress.
I’ll make it the perfect outfit for a solo night on the town withthesebabies. I grab a pair of fuchsia cowboy boots from the closet, tug them on in a flurry.
Yup. This is me now.
My dress, my boots, my style. From a shelf, I grab a purple wristlet that Emerson gave me for my birthday.Go Ahead, Underestimate Meadorns one side in a curlicue font.
Indeed, world.
