I'd forgotten all about it, and I promised him I'd go. I hastily leave my desk and bolt to the restroom to escape into one of the stalls. I would be more than happy to take you - should you wish.

I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend's show, and I'm sure you've not had time to purchase a car, and it's a long drive.

not at work.įorgive this intrusion at work. My e-mail pings, and I quickly check to see who it's from. I sit and begin trawling through a pile of correspondence addressed to him, and I'm pleased with the distraction of menial work. What does he want? I'm polite, but I need to keep him at arm's length. Jack has started to hover over me, irritating me, asking me personal questions. It's the caffeine that keeps me going, but it's making me anxious. I am surviving on a newfound tolerance for lattes and Diet Coke. By Wednesday lunchtime, I manage a cup of yogurt, and it's the first thing I've eaten since Friday. If I talk to Mom, I know I will break even further - and I have nothing left to break. I can interact impersonally at work, but that's it. A ravaged, war-torn land where nothing grows and the horizons are bleak. I don't have the capacity for idle talk now. I have spoken to no one, not even my mother or Ray. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder. so much music - I cannot bear to hear any music.

Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright all haunt me. I examine the roses - they are beautiful, and I can't bring myself to throw them in the trash.ĭutifully, I make my way into the kitchen to hunt down a vase.Īnd so a pattern develops: wake, work, cry, sleep. Christian probably had very little to do with it. I stare at the typed card, the hollow in my chest expanding. The door buzzer startles me from my anguish, and my heart skips a beat. I sit and stare blankly at the brick wall. I turn on the flat-screen television so there's noise to fill the vacuum and provide some semblance of company, but I don't listen or watch. I miss Kate, and I imagine her lying on a beach in Barbados sipping a cool cocktail. I suspect he has been overgenerous in his payment, and the thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I dismiss it and try to keep my mind as numb and as blank as possible.

Of course, I can afford a car - a nice, new car. I shut the door on that thought immediately. I walk toward the bus stop with my head down, staring at my feet and contemplating being without my beloved Wanda, my old Beetle. It doesn't begin to fill the void in my chest, a void that's been present since Saturday morning, a painful hollow reminder of my loss. Out in the early evening air of Seattle, I take a deep breath. Collecting my bag, I shrug on my jacket and head for the door.

Fifty shades darker full book