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Dante? No, that would only worry him.
Esme? No, still on her honeymoon.
The thought of everyone waiting for me to get better filled me with guilt. Miriam, Evan, Reggie, Jen and Marcus had all sent messages, letting me know that everything was fine, that they just wanted me to look after myself. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was letting them down. That I was letting everyone down.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’m really gonna lose it in a minute.” I stood up, dragging my feet as I walked into the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would make me feel better, but I knew it wouldn’t change the truth—I was really fucked up.
I switched the kettle on and jumped a bit, because the sound seemed freakily loud in the quiet of the house.
While I was waiting for the kettle to finish boiling, my thoughts turned to Dante and Lucy. They were both going through so much, and here I was, feeling sorry for myself. Lucy was so sick with her pregnancy, and I felt like a failure because I couldn’t be there for them both.
The music in my ear buds reached a crescendo that was so fucking depressing, I couldn’t stop the tears that slid down my cheeks. I took a few deep breaths, trying to stop myself from full on crying. Man, if I started now, I’d never fucking stop.
What kind of tea did I want? I stared at the box of colorfully packaged tea bags. Chamomile? No. Lemongrass? Bleurgh. Peppermint? I just couldn’t decide. Another tear rolled down my cheek. So fucking wiped out, you can’t even decide what tea you want.
Somehow, that seemed to make me feel worse than ever. Such a simple task, and I couldn’t even do it. I would never get better. This was it for me for the rest of my life. More tears. I couldn’t hold back the sob.Don’t! You start now, you won’t stop!
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, laying my hands flat on the cold marble countertop. Just think about the cold. Focus on external things. When I opened my eyes again, it was to see movement from the entranceway.
Grayson was standing there, looking at me with such deep concern on his face that more tears escaped.
“I’m fine.”
“Stefania.”
He stepped closer, and I held my hand up, shaking my head. “Really, I’m okay.”
“Bullshit.”
I turned away, hastily wiping at the tears on my cheeks. The last thing I needed was for him to see me like this. “I just…” I’d meant to sound strong, reassuring, totally in charge of myself. Instead, the words came out like a broken whisper.
“I know.” He laid his hand gently on my shoulder, and I fought the urge to turn into him. But then he went and rubbed my back, like he really, really cared. The gesture felt so sweet and comforting that I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped my lips. I lost the fight, turning into him, burying my head in his chest.
“I feel like shit,” I whispered into his shirt.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “I know, sweetheart.”
Oh god, why did he have to sound so understanding? And why did I feel so safe with his arms around me? Like he wouldn’t let me be swept away, swept under. Why was he the anchor I needed right now?
“How about you let it out?”
That was enough. I let go of all the fear, frustration and sadness that was eating me up and cried my eyes out, right into his shirt. He held me through the tears, letting me cry until I had no more left in me.
I was finally done, but I wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. So I stayed put, letting out a shuddering breath when he stroked his hand through my hair. Fuck, it was so soothing, washing away all the shit that had built up. For the moment, at least.
Now it was time to pull myself together. I stepped back, instantly missing the feel of his arms around me. “Um, thanks for that. And sorry for your shirt.”
“It’s okay.” He slipped his hands in his pockets, surveying me. I did my best to return his gaze, to let him know I wasn’t an absolute wreck. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“What the fuck? It’s crappy out there.”
“I think you need it. Come on.”
I really, honestly, did not feel up for it, but the look on Grayson’s face let me know he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Can I at least wash my face first?”
“Sure.”