Page 250

For one glorious moment, my apartment is warm, my head is pleasantly fuzzy, and my chest doesn't feel like someone cracked it open with a tire iron.

Then Richard looks at Julia.

You know the look.

The look.

The one that says this woman has somehow become the center of my entire fucking universe and I'm only now realizing it. My throat closes.

“Fuck you too, Richard.”

I drink.

My phone is facedown on the coffee table. It’s been facedown for most of the night.

I know there are messages. I know there are missed calls.

I know some of them aren't Mitchell because I haven't completely lost my mind and I recognize different vibration patterns.

I simply don't care.

I have strawberry ice cream. And rum. A Julia Roberts movie. And emotional repression.

It's basically therapy.

My phone buzzes again.

“No.”

Buzz.

“I said no.”

Buzz.

“Learn boundaries.”

Someone pounds on my wall.

“Sorry!” I shout.

The movie continues belting through my speakers. I start singing the final song while the credits run.

Badly.

Very badly.

Apparently loudly too.

I discover exactly how loudly approximately fifteen minutes later when someone knocks on my door.

Not a friendly knock.

An official knock.

I freeze with the blender pitcher in one hand.

“Oh, shit.”