Back to Reality
. . .
Ellie
What was the protocol for when your fake fiancé breaks your heart?
Sadie would definitely say it called for a giant bowl of ice cream, but I didn’t think I could stomach one.
I just wanted to stay in bed and cuddle with Whiskey until I cried myself to sleep.
So that was exactly what I did.
For three days straight, I hid from my friends, deactivated my profile on Sunshine Cuddle Services, slathered calamine lotion over my hives, and refused to leave the attic. All I did was crochet cute little creatures for Whiskey and Nico and try not to think about the past week.
Kitty took pity on me and left meals at my door, but I was just too mopey to face anyone.
I hadn’t even earned the right to act like I’d been dumped. Cade and I hadn’t actually been engaged. We hadn’t been exclusive. We hadn’t even been together, not really.
We’d been flirting with the beginning of something, and my overactive imagination had turned it into something bigger than it was.
I couldn’t even be angry at him. He’d just been trying to make another business deal, while I’d gone and caught feelings.
Whiskey commiserated with me, curling up against me in bed and not wiggling away when I soaked his fur with tears. He even went hunting in my closet and brought me a stockpile of buttons to cheer me up. And he didn’t complain when I crocheted more hats for him to model.
He was the best furry friend I could ask for.
My phone was returned a few hours after Mac dropped me off at the café. Kitty brought it to my door and said “that handsome businessman with the strong jaw” stopped by with it.
“He’s still here and asking to speak with you,” she added hopefully.
“Tell him he can speak to my lawyer,” I called back, voice muffled by all the blankets.
Kitty slid the phone under my door and didn’t mention Cade again.
By Tuesday—my fourth day of hiding from the world—word got out that I was back from my trip. More friends showed up at my door. More knocks went unanswered. More dread rose about what I was going to do now that the deal had fallen through and I couldn’t afford Whiskey’s surgery.
My cat was officially worried now, too. He’d taken to sitting on my head in bed and never moving more than a foot away. I knew it was bad when he took to grooming me.
But aside from bathroom breaks and getting the food Kitty left, I still couldn’t find the will to leave my blanket cocoon.
Three gentle raps on the door made Whiskey’s head perk up and me pause my crochet hook.
“I know you’re in there,” Kitty called softly, knocking again. “The cats can sense your sadness. They keep congregating at your door.”
I kept my mouth shut, set down the little blue narwhal I’d been crocheting, and wiggled onto my side to face away from the door.
Kitty paused before trying again. “Why don’t you join me downstairs? I’ve got a hot mocha and a whole tray of chocolate muffins with your name on them. Fresh out of the oven.”
My stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but I buried my face in my pillow instead of responding.
A long moment passed before she sighed. “I don’t care how handsome he is. No man is worth your tears, Ellie Belly.”
My chest squeezed painfully, and I pulled Whiskey close to cuddle against me.
She wasn’t wrong.
But I waited until she shuffled away from the door before picking up my crochet again.
The knocks grew more urgent Wednesday morning.
“Ellie!” Sadie called between relentless knocking. “Can you please open the door? I’m worried about you.”
I stared up at the yellowing ceiling, replaying the last morning with Cade over and over in my mind while my crochet sat untouched on the nightstand.
… It wasn’t helping.
Sadie took a break from knocking. “You missed last night’s PBA meeting, and we haven’t heard from you in the group chat.”
I still hadn’t turned my phone back on.
“I come bearing gifts,” she coaxed, her voice warm through the door. “I brought pints of gelato from Bruno’s to drown our sorrows in.”
My stomach betrayed me once again, grumbling loud and violently.
I patted it weakly.
“Seven different flavors, including a pickle-banana hybrid he created during my pregnancy cravings,” Sadie shared, before pausing. “… You probably won’t like that one.”
I snorted, making Whiskey jump. He crawled off my head to come curl against my side, and I hugged his fluffy body close.
Sadie wasn’t finished yet. “I found some pictures of your hotshot penthouse guy online and printed them out so we can burn them together. Hollis and I smeared them in Bear’s poop for extra effect. Now open the door!”
I was hiding in a dark attic, and she thought I wanted company?
“Fine. You want to do this the hard way?” she asked. “Vince taught me how to kick down doors, so you have three seconds to answer before I knock this one down. Three…”
That got my attention, and my joints screamed at me as I forced myself to let go of Whiskey and roll onto my back, propping my head on a pile of crocheted animals.
“Two…”
I watched the door, wishing I had a bucket of popcorn for the show.
“One!” A muffled thump sounded, but the door didn’t even budge. “Ow!”
A quiet laugh slipped through my lips, and I froze. It was the first time I’d laughed in days.
“How is your door so strong?” Sadie muttered as she scrambled to her feet, and my smile widened. A much weaker knock followed. “Please, Ellie. We love you, and we’re worried.”
She sounded desperate enough that I heaved a big sigh and wiggled to the edge of the bed before rolling off, earning a concerned meow from Whiskey.
“Yes, I got out of bed. Big deal,” I whispered, scowling lightly at him.
Already bored with me, Whiskey lifted a paw and licked it.
I trudged across the floor littered with yarn and half-worn clothes. A few crocheted safari animals had to be kicked aside before I swung the door open. Sadie stood in a pink sundress with her fist frozen midknock.
“You don’t need to worry,” I croaked through a dry throat. “I’m just taking a little time to myself. I’ll be at the next PBA meeting.”
She stared at me with wide eyes before her gaze slowly trailed down my front. “… Is that his T-shirt?”
I looked down, too, blinking slowly at the navy blue fabric. I was still wearing Cade’s shirt from the boat? That meant I hadn’t showered or changed in almost a week. A dark splotch right on my chest glared back at me, looking suspiciously like chocolate.
It hit me like a bolt of lightning—as if I’d been frozen for the past five days, and suddenly the emptiness and anger and unearned grief bubbled up to the surface all at once.
One second passed, then two, before the dam broke and tears exploded out of me. All I could do was stand there and cling to the doorknob while sobs shook my shoulders.
Sadie immediately wrapped her arms around me in the biggest, fiercest hug I’d ever gotten.
“I don’t understand. I literally just met him,” I gasped through the tears, clinging back to her. “What’s wrong with me? Why is this happening?”
She just squeezed me tighter.
Sadie’s visit was a godsend. While I took a much-needed bubble bath, she hid Cade’s faded T-shirt and picked out comfy loungewear for me.
We ate our weight in gelato, dressed Whiskey up in all his new hats, and Sadie almost paid on online witch to place a curse on Cade—but I talked her out of it.
Lighting a candle immediately set off the smoke detector, so we didn’t get a chance to burn the pictures Sadie had gotten printed of Cade, but seeing them smeared in Bear’s poop definitely lifted my spirits.
She kicked me right out of the slump I’d fallen into.
I even turned my phone back on after Sadie left. I’d missed a lot in the Pet Bandits Anonymous group chat, and there were a few texts from my boss checking in, too. A text had come in from Madison the day after we got back—asking if I was okay—and I had no idea how to answer. So I didn’t.
I scrolled past a voicemail from Whiskey’s vet. They wanted money, and I had no idea how I would pay for his surgery now.
Another voicemail from an unknown number caught my eye. It was probably a debt collector, or maybe Cade was already siccing his lawyer on me for breaking our NDA. I braced myself and hit play, needing to get it over with.
A familiar deep voice made my heart skip. “Hey, Darling—”
I immediately hit stop and tossed my phone onto the bed, spooking Whiskey into jumping off his pillow and glaring at the phone.
Cade.
Cade had called me.
My breaths came faster as fight-or-flight mode kicked in, but there was no one to fight and nowhere to go. So I snatched my phone back and found texts from the same sender.
Unknown
It’s Cade. Call me.
There were three texts total from him. One each day since Monday, and they all said the same thing—to call him.
I frowned at my screen.
… He couldn’t even say please?