croissants that are sinful, and scones and chocolate pastries…” Her eyes half closed in thought as she considered her favorites.
“Sounds tempting.”
“How do you manage without really eating ? No french fries, bread, cake, pasta? You’re cutting out the soul food.”
“I eat those things. I ate my fair share last night, didn’t I?” I shrugged.
“I don’t care if you are all sexy and sleek. I’ll take a chocolate raspberry trifle over sex every time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then you’re not doing it right,” I teased. “How late were you up?”
“I turned in about three-thirty. I’m not sure when Josh left.” She shook her head. “I finished one script and tried to read the one Josh gave you to read. I see why you passed out.”
“It was awful.” I was very deliberately keeping Josh out of my mind. When I woke up, I had been in my bed, covered. He’d put a note on the pillow next to me that read Wish I were here . I sincerely regretted not waking up to say goodbye to him.
I would not think of his hazel eyes, or crazy hair, or his long fingers and strong hands. There was a disturbingly real ache in my heart.
“What do you want to do today? I took the whole day off, so let’s have fun!”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m up for anything.”
“Good. We do have a dinner reservation tonight at this very fancy new seafood restaurant. I thought it might be fun to go ogle the rich and famous. Until then, we have some serious shopping to do.” She laughed as my face fell.
Once I gave over to the idea of playing human Barbie doll, I had fun. After years of dressing to hide bruises, showing skin made me nervous. I stood in front of a mirror, forcing myself to become more accustomed to “me” while Shannon filled the gaps in my wardrobe. Several shopping bags later, we headed home for an early evening walk along the beach.
Shannon took a conference call when we got home, giving me a few minutes to poke around the house and enjoy the quiet.
The contract was still sitting there on the end table. I circled it, glancing out the back window at the beach below. Then I avoided it as I walked into the kitchen to get some water. I lingered, finding an apple to snack on and discovering another reason we’d have to go out for dinner: Shannon’s cupboards were bare.
I considered this and turned back to examine her house. There were no photos, no personal bits and bobs to enlighten visitors about who she was, what her likes or dislikes were. It was a great house, but there was nothing remotely personal about it. Because Shannon was never home.
She had given up on men after a long-term romance with a married man. Since she’d left him, she’d spent all of her time at work. Work was her everything, requiring her constant devotion without any personal complications to throw a wrench into her well-tuned life.
She rarely spoke to her parents, visiting them every couple of years—or longer if she could manage it. She’d always felt they didn’t understand her.
Other than work and her estranged family, Shannon had me. And I couldn’t be mad at her anymore. Because in her own weird way, she was trying to give me what she had: a sense of control in an otherwise uncontrollable world.
I made my way back into the living room, wandering aimlessly. I circled the end table and picked up the contract, not looking at it, just holding it.
I counted on Shannon because she always told me the truth, even when I may not like what she had to say. She’d said my book was brilliant. And she must believe it. Why else would she have done this?
I glanced at the heading of the document and saw my name. I wasn’t sure I was up to being a role model for other victimized women, or that I would be able to handle my life on display for public scrutiny. But I knew I needed to be a stronger role model for my children.
I took a deep breath and began to read. They wanted an answer soon. Mr. Frank Graham had enclosed his
“Sounds tempting.”
“How do you manage without really eating ? No french fries, bread, cake, pasta? You’re cutting out the soul food.”
“I eat those things. I ate my fair share last night, didn’t I?” I shrugged.
“I don’t care if you are all sexy and sleek. I’ll take a chocolate raspberry trifle over sex every time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then you’re not doing it right,” I teased. “How late were you up?”
“I turned in about three-thirty. I’m not sure when Josh left.” She shook her head. “I finished one script and tried to read the one Josh gave you to read. I see why you passed out.”
“It was awful.” I was very deliberately keeping Josh out of my mind. When I woke up, I had been in my bed, covered. He’d put a note on the pillow next to me that read Wish I were here . I sincerely regretted not waking up to say goodbye to him.
I would not think of his hazel eyes, or crazy hair, or his long fingers and strong hands. There was a disturbingly real ache in my heart.
“What do you want to do today? I took the whole day off, so let’s have fun!”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m up for anything.”
“Good. We do have a dinner reservation tonight at this very fancy new seafood restaurant. I thought it might be fun to go ogle the rich and famous. Until then, we have some serious shopping to do.” She laughed as my face fell.
Once I gave over to the idea of playing human Barbie doll, I had fun. After years of dressing to hide bruises, showing skin made me nervous. I stood in front of a mirror, forcing myself to become more accustomed to “me” while Shannon filled the gaps in my wardrobe. Several shopping bags later, we headed home for an early evening walk along the beach.
Shannon took a conference call when we got home, giving me a few minutes to poke around the house and enjoy the quiet.
The contract was still sitting there on the end table. I circled it, glancing out the back window at the beach below. Then I avoided it as I walked into the kitchen to get some water. I lingered, finding an apple to snack on and discovering another reason we’d have to go out for dinner: Shannon’s cupboards were bare.
I considered this and turned back to examine her house. There were no photos, no personal bits and bobs to enlighten visitors about who she was, what her likes or dislikes were. It was a great house, but there was nothing remotely personal about it. Because Shannon was never home.
She had given up on men after a long-term romance with a married man. Since she’d left him, she’d spent all of her time at work. Work was her everything, requiring her constant devotion without any personal complications to throw a wrench into her well-tuned life.
She rarely spoke to her parents, visiting them every couple of years—or longer if she could manage it. She’d always felt they didn’t understand her.
Other than work and her estranged family, Shannon had me. And I couldn’t be mad at her anymore. Because in her own weird way, she was trying to give me what she had: a sense of control in an otherwise uncontrollable world.
I made my way back into the living room, wandering aimlessly. I circled the end table and picked up the contract, not looking at it, just holding it.
I counted on Shannon because she always told me the truth, even when I may not like what she had to say. She’d said my book was brilliant. And she must believe it. Why else would she have done this?
I glanced at the heading of the document and saw my name. I wasn’t sure I was up to being a role model for other victimized women, or that I would be able to handle my life on display for public scrutiny. But I knew I needed to be a stronger role model for my children.
I took a deep breath and began to read. They wanted an answer soon. Mr. Frank Graham had enclosed his
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