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I could feel the tears forming at my lower lash line, and I had to look away quickly. I didn’t want to be that woman—the weepy divorcee. I wanted to be strong.
Zane pulled me into him, “You’re allowed to cry, you know? It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of humanity. You can always cry in front of me.”
I allowed him to hold me for a few moments before pushing away, looking up at him with a watery smile. His face was blurred, but I could still make out the concern etched across his features. I knew that if he stayed here any longer, I would have a full breakdown and tell him everything. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even tell the story to myself, let alone anyone else. I needed to be alone.
“Thanks for helping. I’m going to finish unloading a few of these boxes and then call it a day. I’m pretty tired.”
I faked a yawn and stretched. Zane seemed to get the idea as he took a step back and started to make his way back to the front door.
“No worries. I’ll come by to visit tomorrow, and we can catch up. You know where I am if you need anything.”
Holding onto the door, I watched as he went down the porch and out onto the street. He only lived on the next street over, and it was comforting to know he was so close by.
But tonight, I discover what it truly means to be alone.
