By His Play

38. Effie

38

EFFIE

T wo weeks pass torturously slowly. Every day I wake up thinking that I’ll feel more positive, that everything will hurt less, that I’ll figure my shit out, but it never happens.

I keep adding to my pros and cons list, and I do actually have a few things on the New Chapter page, although admittedly, I’m not sure they’re entirely realistic.

Moving to an exotic island and learning to train dolphins might be a little out there as far as ideas go.

Every single day, Kieran has been calling and messaging.

I still haven’t answered a single one of his calls, although two days after he left, I did finally respond to his messages.

He was sounding more and more desperate, and I was genuinely feeling sorry for him.

Even though what we had that weekend was over, and even though I’m pretty sure he’s broken my already shattered heart on some level, he’s still my best friend.

Always will be.

“Oh shit,” I gasp, tumbling to the ground inelegantly.

For the last week and a half, I’ve been working through a thirty-day yoga flow.

It was one of the things I read online to help with my self-discovery.

I’m not really an exercise kind of girl. Over the years, I have tried several different things, although mainly at-home classes, because I’m not a fan of making myself look like an unfit fool in front of an audience.

But I’m really enjoying yoga. It’s given me something to look forward to daily, which is saying a lot right now.

It gives me time to breathe, to empty my mind, and to focus.

I haven’t had that since the weekend with Kieran, but I can’t help but feel like practicing yoga might be healthier than letting my best friend fuck me into oblivion.

Picking myself back up, I shake out my arms and legs before getting back into position.

While I might be enjoying this, I have a long way to go before I can consider myself any good at it.

And I’m certainly not doing it in front of anyone else. No one needs to see me bent in half with my ass in the air.

I work through the rest of the flow. It’s a beginners’ class, but even still, many of the poses are a challenge, especially for someone as uncoordinated and out of shape as me.

By the time I’m in the final pose, my body is covered in a sheen of sweat and my heart is pounding. It’s a really good feeling. I’m starting to understand why Kieran is so obsessed with exercising. It’s a buzz, and it’s helping to build me up a little every day.

I’m nowhere near back to being my old self, if she even exists now, but I’m starting to see some improvement.

The online class ends, and the house falls silent.

I continue lying there, breathing steadily and letting my mind drift.

I think about my apartment back in Chicago and the life I lived there.

I have received numerous messages from people back home checking in on me.

I’ve replied to some, like Jasmine and Braxton.

Technically, Brax is Kieran's friend, but we get along well and I appreciate his concern. Either way, I've kept him at arm's length so nothing gets back to Kieran.

Eventually, the air conditioning gets the better of me. With goosebumps pricking my skin, I get to my feet. My muscles pull in ways I’ve never experienced before.

My legs tremble as I make my way toward the bathroom. My leggings and sports bra stick to me, making my fingers twitch to rip them off.

But as I’m passing my bedroom, my cell starts ringing.

I almost ignore it and continue to the shower, but something makes me turn toward it.

Convinced that it’ll be Kieran's daily check-in that I never answer, I prepare myself to ignore it, but the moment I see my boss’ name staring back at me, I freeze.

It’s not the first time he’s reached out. He sent his condolences when he heard the news about Grams, and he’s checked in regularly since I’ve been gone.

He’s a great guy, and I totally understand why Kieran and his brothers chose him to run the foundation. He’s fantastic at his job, and he’s a really lovely and supportive person.

But seeing his name causes a ball of dread in my stomach.

He told me to take all the time I needed, that Jasmine and my team would cover for me, that my job would be there when I was ready to return, but what if something happened and…

Before I can finish that thought, I swipe the screen and lift my cell to my ear.

“H-hello?” I croak.

I’ve barely left the house for two weeks, let alone used my voice, unless I’m talking to myself.

“Hi, Effie. How are you?”

The question is a formality, and I answer it as quickly as possible in the hope he gets to the point.

I may have been debating whether my life in Chicago was for me or not, but the thought of the decision being made for me, of Henry taking it away from me…that doesn’t sit right.

My hand trembles as I wait for him to spit out the real reason he’s calling me.

“I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue, and I fully understand that you’re on sabbatical, but?—”

Oh my god. Oh my god.

My heart races and my palms begin to sweat.

Please don’t take this decision out of my hands.

“Jasmine has been involved in an accident.” It’s awful, and I hate myself for it, but I sag in relief, dropping to the end of my bed. “She’s going to be okay, but she’s currently in intensive care and will be out of action for some time.”

“Oh my god, that’s awful,” I say, finally finding my voice.

“I know I have no right to ask this, and you are totally within your right not to even respond, but were you planning on coming back anytime soon? Because?—”

“Yes.”