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Caring.
Two men I don’t know well work to soothe me as I break down.
Calming ‘shh’ tones sound in my ear.
“Get it out, sweetness,” comes tenderly from Alex.
“We’re here, baby. Let it go,” Cruz urges.
A handful of tissues are shoved in my palm.
God knows how long I cry, but eventually the tears slow and the disgrace sets in.
What is wrong with me?
I sniff and hiccup until it’s moderately under control.
“I’m so sorry. Do you have a restroom?”
“I’ll get you there.” Cruz tucks my face into his chest and stands, guiding me to the back and into the private bathroom.
Without a word, he closes me in, giving me space.
The reflection in the mirror is terrifying. It’s not only the splotchy skin and streak of make-up. It’s much more.
“Toodle-doo, we have a strict rule. Crying women have five minutes until we come in,” Cruz calls through the door.
I splash water on my face, glad for the supplies I keep in my bag.
When I’m done, it’s apparent I was crying, but the damage isn’t as bad.
Cruz, Alex, and Pepper are waiting for me outside the door. Pepper nudges my hand until I rub her head.
“Pepper was raised intending to be an anxiety service dog,” Alex explains.
“She’s good at her job.”
“Sit now.” He points at the chair pulled out from the small table.
I do as he says, Pepper sitting obediently at my feet and laying her face in my lap.
“I’m incredibly sorry—”
“Stop!” Cruz demands, his harsh bite making me jump. “Don’t you dare sit there and apologize. Whatever that was is eating you up inside.”
“I d-don’t know what that was. I don’t cry. Well, I didn’t. Except for…” I trail off remembering the last few times I’ve shed tears. All because of Craig Johns and his antics.
“Drink this.” Alex shoves a cup of pink liquid at me.
First sip, I moan at the delicious concoction. “What is this?”
“Our version of a Pink Panty Pulldown. Shoot it back and then we’ll talk.”
“I can’t shotgun this drink. I’m driving.”
“Not anymore. Alex and I decided you are coming home with us. If you want to go home later to sleep, we will drive you.”
I glance between them, a sense of panic rising. Pepper gets on her hind legs, pawing at my thighs.
