Chapter 44
ARI
Four weeks, three days, seven hours and twenty-three minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since I walked out the doors of Hart Law.
I miss the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
I thought losing my family was painful, but this is a different type of pain I’m feeling. Guilt, shame, loss, hurt; they’re all mixed together to create a cocktail of hate for myself.
I hate that I believed Julie was helping me for the greater good.
The day after I was fired, my belongings from Nathan’s apartment were delivered to my place, each one packed neatly and labelled with what was inside.
From the handwriting on the boxes, I knew Nathan had personally packed each one, which made it even worse. Because what he really should have done is shred every piece of my clothing into tiny pieces and tipped my makeup all over them.
Except he didn’t.
But it’s what I deserved.
“Do you think she’ll leave the bed today?” Maeve’s voice appears as she walks into my bedroom, and I have no idea who she is speaking to.
“She thinks you hate her.” I figure out Maeve is on a call, which I’m guessing is to Joseph.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Joseph says to tell you he doesn’t hate you and that he wants you to come up with a plan to win Nathan back.”
I pull the comforter I’m buried in further up over my head again and groan.
The bed dips to the side of me as Maeve sits down on the edge of the mattress.
“It smells like someone died in her bedroom.” Her voice drips with disgust. “If we leave her long enough, she’ll get bed sores and become a giant pile of puss.”
“I can hear you, you know. I’m sad, not deaf.” I flip the cover down from my head to my waist. “Can you please leave me alone?”
Maeve smiles down her cell. “Oh, we have life.”
I let out a frustrated breath and stare at the ceiling, annoyed that for some unfathomable reason Maeve wants me to get out of my bed. How can I when my heart feels like it’s bleeding out?
“I’ll try,” Maeve replies to whatever Joseph asks her to do.
“Try what?” I ask.
“To get you out of bed and into the shower.”
“I had a shower three days ago.”
“And that’s the reason it smells like a morgue in here,” she drawls.
I fly out of my bed to prove the point that I can actually get out of bed and that I am fine.
I’m not fine.
Far from it.
“Happy now?” I feel dizzy from a combination of getting up too quick and being unable to eat anything substantial in weeks.
Laying my hand on my forehead, I plonk my ass back on the bed.
“I think that’s enough exertion for one day.
” I admit defeat and climb back into my bed, which is calling my name.
“Gotta go.” Maeve ends the call. “Nope, not happening. Up.” She pulls the covers off me and throws them to the ground.
“Maeve,” I shrill, sitting up. “Just…”
“Just, what?” She folds her arms in front of her and pops a hip. “What are you going to do? Rot away in this bed for the rest of the year, or get up and fight for what you want and believe in?”
“There’s no winning him back, Maeve,” I say through gritted teeth. That ship has sailed. More like it sunk with no survivors.
“You didn’t even try.”
“He told me that he would never forgive me.”
“We all say things in the heat of the moment.”
“There was no heat.” He was as cold as an ice cube.
He was hurt by my cruel intentions, which I decided to put a stop to, but he didn’t know that at the time and now all is lost.
I lost him.
I lost everything including my self-respect.
A deep emptiness crept in the minute I stepped out of the Hart Law building.
It was as if I was moving in slow motion and completely disconnected from myself.
Like I was watching myself from the outside.
I don’t feel like myself anymore. Everything feels wrong, and yet I can’t find the strength to change my situation.
“I need to get a job,” I say, defeated.
“The 7-Eleven down the block is hiring.”
“Yeah, I could do that.” My voice is heavy. My body feels numb and weary.
“Stop being an idiot. You are overqualified.”
“I’m exhausted is what I am.” And no longer the strong woman I once was.
“Well.” Maeve sits down on the bed, takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “You might feel like that, but that’s because you haven’t eaten a vegetable or had a decent meal in weeks. Your hair is matted and it looks like a bird’s nest.”
I reach up and try pushing my fingers through it but I’m unsuccessful. “God, that is gross.”
“And you smell really bad. I’m not just saying that.
” She rubs the end of her nose. “I think you should jump in the shower and while you’re in there I’ll change the linens.
And then you and I are going to grab a bite to eat.
If you lose any more weight, you’re going to not only smell like a corpse but look like one. ”
“Do I really look that bad?”
“You have a cornflake stuck in your hair. And some weird-looking brown stain on your pajama top.” She points to them both.
That’s all I’ve been surviving on; cereal and chocolate. My skin must look terrible.
“I don’t think I’m ready to face the world yet,” I confess. I feel like everyone is looking at me as if I’m wearing my guilt like a flashing neon sign above my head.
“It’s not the world. Just the coffee shop on Third Street. You can’t stay in this cesspit for a minute longer or your neighbor will call environmental health to report the stench.”
A genuine laugh bursts from my chest. I don’t remember when I last laughed.
The last time I felt happy was the night before Julie sent me that fateful fake crash report that changed the next stage of my life.
“I blew it.” Holding my head in my hands, I break down again. All I’ve done is cry. There can’t be any more tears left in me. “It’s all my fault.”
Maeve encases me in her warm arms. “You’ve survived worse than this,” she whispers, then kisses the top of my head.
“I miss him.” I soak her shirt in tears as she squeezes me gently. “My heart, it feels broken.”
Maeve stays quiet and lets me get it all out.
After a while, she asks, “Will you come to the coffee shop?”
I lean out of our embrace. “Mmm,” I grumble. “I don’t think I’m up to it today.”
“They have cake.”
I consider her persuading offer. “Do they have banana bread?”
“Yes.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” I finally agree because if I don’t, she’s never going to leave me alone.
Maeve claps her hands together in excitement.
Something I also haven’t felt in a while. Nothing feels exciting anymore and joy feels like an unachievable goal.
I need to start again because there is no me and Nathan anymore.
I fill my cheeks with air and drop my feet to the floor when Maeve stands up.
“We need to air out this room,” she says, looking around before making her way to open a window.
We do, and maybe burn the comforter if it’s as bad as Maeve says it is.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror and gasp at my appearance. I look dreadful.
Spots.
Gaunt cheeks.
Puffy eyes.
Blotchy skin.
Tangled hair.
I’m ticking all the boxes I don’t want to.
“I need a shower,” I admit, finally seeing what Maeve does.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
I suck my lips into my mouth to stop myself from crying again. “I need cake.”
And I need to start looking forward, not back.
What’s done is done.
It’s time to rebuild my life without him in it.
Which sounds absolutely awful.
Impossible, even.
My cell alerts me to a text message. Half-heartedly, I pick it up off my nightstand and read the notification. “It’s Max.” I read his name aloud, confused as to why he’s texting me.
It’s the only contact I’ve had with any of them since I was fired.
Maeve stops what she’s doing. “What does he want?”
I open the message to find out. “He wants me to call him.”
“Do it, Ari.”