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“Miss Maxwell, you have a visitor,” Frank, the doorman for the building, says. “Can I let Miss Georgia up?”
“Frank, thank you. Please let her up.”
“Have a great night, Miss Maxwell,” he says before hanging up.
I don’t even know what I look like, but it’s Georgia, so I’m not worried about it. She’s seen me when I was broke, trying to make enough money to eat, and she’s seen me walk the red carpet at award shows.
She’s seen it all.
I close the door to my closet so she can’t see the mess I made in there. She wouldn’t judge me but I’m keeping that to myself.
The elevator dings as it reaches my floor. When the doors open into my foyer, Georgia rushes out and throws herself at me. She wraps her arms around my neck and my knees buckle. I’m so glad I’m no longer alone.
“Let it out girl,” she says into my hair.
And I do. I let it all out. It comes in waves of tears, screams, shaking, and tons of cursing.
“I hate him,” I say through my sobs. “How could he do this to me?”
“He’s a jerk Pen and he never deserved you. Never. You were always too good for him.”
“I never felt that way,” I get out through my tears. “How did you get past the vultures downstairs?”
“Those guys didn’t stand a chance against me.” She laughs. “They didn’t recognize me in my sunglasses and hat. I hope they leave tonight and give you some peace.”
We pull apart and she wipes the tears from my face. Even through the pain, a smile forms on my face. I’m so lucky to have her.
“Okay, let’s stuff our faces with some ice cream and watch reality TV.”
Grabbing my favorite blanket, our ice cream, and the remote, we settle on the couch. For the next few hours, we completely zone out.
And it’s everything I need right now.
Nothing matters.
Not my phone buzzing in the other room, the paparazzi downstairs, or my broken heart.
After a few episodes of my most beloved Real Housewives show, I glance at the window and notice my reflection in the dark glass. Checking the time on the TV, the clock reads 12:30 a.m.
Sitting up, I stretch and put the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. There goes my waist and all those hours in the gym.
“If you have to get going, don’t feel bad,” I say. “I know you have to be on set early tomorrow morning.”
“Are you sure? I can stay a little longer. I wish I could stay overnight.”
“I’m sure. You are the best friend any girl could ever ask for, Georgia.” A fresh wave of tears fall. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She stands up and pulls me in for one last hug. “Okay, call me in the morning so I know that you’re alright. You know I’m here for you.”
As I walk her to the elevator, she grabs her big hat and sunglasses, even though it’s nighttime, and we say our goodbyes. Once the door closes and the silence fills the space, I’m not sure what to do with myself.
Do I go to bed? Should I clean up the scraps of my dress from the floor of my closet? Do I take a shower?
After a few minutes, I head to my bedroom, get into my comfiest pajamas, throw my hair on top of my head, and cuddle on the couch with a book. Reading has been my escape since I was little when I would hide under the covers with a flashlight.
I love getting lost in a good book in between shoots or when I have downtime on the plane or in the car.
I grab the romance novel I’m reading, settle in, and forget everything that is going on around me. What I wouldn’t give for real life to be like the sweet books I love so much.
