By His Play

40. Effie

40

EFFIE

I ’m a nervous wreck by the time I pull up into the secure underground garage of my apartment building.

Leaving St. Louis, or more specifically, Grams’ house, was as hard as I thought it was going to be.

The place and everything inside might be mine now, but there was a part of me that felt like I was abandoning Grams.

It’s silly, I know that. But I guess that’s the thing about emotions and grief. They’re not reasonable or predictable.

Different things hit you out of nowhere. Some make you laugh, but many make you cry, and many make you feel empty like something is missing.

I said I was looking for a sign, and after hanging up the phone with Henry, I felt like universe had sent me one.

I felt awful for Jasmine, of course, I did. But I can’t help but wonder how long it would have taken me to admit to myself that I needed to return. I could spend weeks, months, even years trying to convince myself that there might be something else out there for me.

Truth is, Kieran was right. Chicago is my home. It has been for years.

And no matter what happens between us after that wild weekend—as I like to call it—he is still my person.

I’m not expecting our relationship to return to what it was before. I’m not sure that’s possible. But I’m confident that it’s not all over. Or at least, I hope so.

Then why haven’t you told him that you’re back?

I shake that little thought of reason from my head and pull into the space I haven’t parked in for a very long time.

It’s been four days since I answered Henry’s call and agreed to return.

But while I think he was secretly hoping that I’d jump straight in my car and head back, I wasn’t so keen.

I knew I needed a little more time, so I agreed to ease myself in with a few days of remote work. I told him that I’d return to the office Monday.

At the time, it was a week away. This weekend, let alone Monday, still seemed like a million miles away. But as it always is, I feel like I blinked and it’s here.

I kill the engine, slump back, and close my eyes.

The drive was good, but I’m exhausted.

My eyes hurt after focusing in a way I haven’t for a long time, and my body aches. Probably from the positions I’ve been twisting it up into recently.

“Move or you’ll be here all night,” I tell myself in the hope a pep talk will perk me up a little.

My car is loaded with so much more stuff than I left with. I have two suitcases and bags of I don’t know what really.

I grabbed a few of Grams’ belongings that I wanted for my apartment, but the rest of it is just random stuff I’ve collected over the past few weeks. Like my new yoga mat.

Grabbing one suitcase and a couple of bags with the essentials in them, I make my way toward the elevator.

The very moment I step into the entryway, the scent of home washes over me. It’s so familiar. It’s almost like I’ve never been away.

Pressing the call button, I wait for the elevator as I catalogue all the things that have happened since I was here.

In some ways, it’s like time has stood still and I’ve done nothing, but in others, it feels like everything has happened and that I’m now standing here as a different person.

I ride to the top of the building in a daze.

I’ll be honest, when I first let Kieran convince me to get this place, I felt like a bit of a sell-out.

I have always tried to be the opposite of my parents. Done everything I can to show them that my life doesn’t revolve around money like theirs does. But despite everything I stood for, I fell in love with this apartment the instant I stepped inside.

I didn’t even know we were looking at it. Kieran instructed his realtor, and she brought us here. It was the fourth place I looked at, and the moment I stepped over the threshold, it had a totally different feel from all the others. It felt like mine. Everywhere I looked, I could picture myself.

I tried to fight it because I did not need a penthouse apartment with views overlooking the city. But Kieran was adamant that I deserved it, and he told me that if I didn’t sign the agreement, he would do it for me. That absolutely wasn’t happening, so I signed, and I guess the rest is history.

The elevator dings, welcoming me home, and after sucking in a deep breath, I hold my head up and walk out.

There are four apartments up here. One belongs to a young couple, another is an older single man, and the fourth, I have no idea. None of us have ever seen them. But then, we don’t ever really see each other.

As I turn the corner to my front door, I can’t help but smile at the sight of my two palms alive and thriving.

Releasing my bags, I dig out my key and finally let myself back into my home.

The minute I walk in, the scent of cleaning products hits me, and as I look around, I find that everything is perfect.

My housekeeper is amazing.

Locking myself in, I abandon my things in the hallway and walk through my open living area and straight toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase my home city beyond.

But there is only one building in the distance that steals my attention.

The Chiefs Stadium.

Tingles run down my spine as I think about one specific player whose life is in that stadium.

Guilt twists me up inside that he doesn’t know I’m here.

The first thing I should have done when I agreed was to tell him. But fear stopped me.

I knew that he’d be here waiting for me.

He’d probably have takeout from our favorite Thai place and a bottle of champagne to celebrate my return.

But as much as I might want that, I’m not sure if I’m ready to face him.

How can I look him in the eyes again after what we did together?

He’s explored every inch of my body. He’s been inside me.

I know how he tastes, and the other way around.

I cringe heavily just thinking about it.

Those are things you shouldn’t experience with your best friend.

Or at least, you shouldn’t if you want to continue your friendship.

My cell burns a hole in my pocket, but I don’t pull it out.

I tell myself that I’ll reach out over the weekend. That I’ll have tonight here to get myself settled back in, and that I’ll be ready to face him once I’ve had a good night's sleep.

I’m lying to myself. I know I am.

But what else is there to do?

Ripping my eyes from the stadium, I collect my luggage and tug it toward my bedroom.

Flipping open my suitcase, I grab my toiletries and a clean pair of pajamas and take it all to the bathroom, and I fill the tub.

Pouring a generous amount of bubble bath into the running water, I watch as the white foam multiplies. My muscles ache to sink into the too-hot water, but before I do, I head back to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine.

T hanks to the new routine I forced myself into, I’m awake early, and to my surprise, I’m alert and ready to go.

Of course, it would be easy to roll over and wallow, but I told myself that my days doing that are long over.

I’m back home, and it’s time to restart my life.

I get up and get dressed into my yoga pants and sports bra. I drink my greens, which I actually don’t hate as much as I used to, and then I locate my TV remote and find the YouTube channel I’m following for the next tutorial.

With my mat in place, I get to work as the sun lights up the city beyond.

I loved doing this in Grams’ living room, but there is something even more magical about having this view.

I focus on my breathing and try to find my Zen. Or at least, I think that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m still a beginner.

After an hour, and more positions that I never knew existed, I lie on the floor with my muscles like jelly and my heart racing.

I never thought I’d like this feeling, but it’s energizing in a way I never expected.

Eventually, my stomach growling forces me to get up, and after a quick look through my cupboards, I decide that staying in isn’t an option.

Sure, I could order in, but that’s not going to help drag me back to reality.

So instead, I grab a zip-up hoodie, my cell and keys, and I head out.

I have every intention of going to our local deli for one of their famous breakfast bagels and then back home.

I didn’t realize I’d missed it quite as much as I do, but now that I’m here, it hits me hard.

I find a bench to enjoy my bagel and coffee. I had every intention of going straight back to my apartment, but with the sun warming my face, I find myself doing the opposite.

I feel stronger than I have in a long time, or at least, my body does. Inside, I’m still a complete mess, but I think being here helps.

Without paying much attention to where I’m going, I just walk, taking in the sights that I haven’t seen for months.

After being in Grams’ small town, I have a new appreciation for how big and busy everything is here.

It reminds me of when I was first sent here for boarding school and we’d come into the city for field trips.

I might have traveled with my parents, but we never really went on city trips, and I wasn’t ever taken on business trips with them. I was either left at home with whatever nanny they’d decided was suitable at that time, or I was with Grams.

I’d seen plenty on the TV and in movies, but there really was nothing like the real thing.

Chicago felt like home right from the very beginning. And as much as I dreaded coming back, that same feeling of belonging is surging through my veins right now.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of a very familiar building.

Letting my eyes roll up the huge panes of glass that cover every side, I finally get to the top. To the home of the KC Foundation.

Without stopping to think, I pull my keys from my pocket and walk toward the entrance.

My fob lets me in immediately, and I’m soon walking through the swanky reception area and to the elevators.

Again, I tap my fob, and just like I’ve never been away, it instantly takes me to my floor.

Seeing as it’s Saturday, the offices are deserted. It’s an eerie sight, but one that I embrace.

I walk through the large room that’s full of everyone’s desks until I get to the management offices at the very end.

A smile spreads across my face as I step up to my door.

My name is still there.

I stare at it for a moment before pushing my door open and stepping inside.

It’s just like returning home last night.

Everything is exactly as I remember it.

I wasn’t aware whether Jasmine had moved in, in my absence, but looking at it right now, it’s obvious she hasn’t.

Knowing that Henry kept it for me makes my chest swell.

He knew I’d come back, and he wasn’t lying when he said my job would be here no matter how long it took.

Rubbing at the spot over my chest, I walk farther inside and take it all in.

Sitting in the center of my desk, right in front of my chair is a pad of paper.

Welcome home, Effie.

We’ve missed you.