Page 125 of The Toy Maker

But he wasn’t going to stop it.

My breath was shaky when I finally forced words out. “That’s it, then?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He exhaled sharply through his nose like he hated that I was making him say it. “That’s it.”

I nodded slowly, my fingers closing around the check. His grip loosened, hesitant, reluctant, but in the end, he let it go.

And that was all it took for my chest to cave in.

I clenched my jaw, turned on my heel, and walked out without another word. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I walked toward the door, each step pulling me farther away from him, from the ache, from the unraveling piece of myself that still wanted to stay.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

FORTY-TWO

I spentthe next few days of my life moping around my apartment, a ghost of my former self. I had given up on being reasonable and gave in to complete, unbridled anger toward Pink Cherrie.

At night, I wallowed in self-pity, letting the loneliness settle into my bones like a second skin. The apartment felt different now, hollow and unfamiliar, like a place I had once known but couldn’t recognize. I had spent so little time by myself in the last six months.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take the silence anymore, my phone rang.

The sharp sound cut through the thick fog of my misery, startling me. I figured it was either Jade or Sarah. They hadn’t stopped calling me since I didn’t come in for work on Monday.

I never got around to answering.

I told myself it could have been just another telemarketer trying to peddle a week-long getaway to Jamaica. Either way, picking up was a hard no.

But after the fifth ring, I caved and accepted the call. “Hello?”

I didn’t think I was hoping to hear from anyone in particular, but when my brother’s voice came through the receiver, my heart dropped.

“Hey, sis,” Tristan said with his usual perky tone. “What’s up?”

“Not much, just chilling at home,” I lied. The truth was, I hadn’t left the apartment in days. My reflection in the hallway mirror told me I looked as bad as I felt—dark circles, tangled hair, an overall aura of someone abandoned at sea.

I could hear crackling on the other end. “I thought you’d be working. Mom told me all about your mysterious new job.” Fuck.

I smiled softly. “Sorry you had to live through that.”

Tristan laughed. “So, are you enjoying your job as a CIA agent?”

“I’m not really doing that anymore…” I let myself trail off. My brother, as understanding as he was, didn’t need to know about my recent shortcomings, but the quiver in my voice gave it away.

He was quiet for a second, no doubt listening for a sniffle or sign of trauma. “Are you okay?” he asked carefully.

Tears welled in my eyes when he asked the question I had been avoiding for days. “No, um, I’m not actually, but I will be.” I decided to change the subject before I could fall apart and tell him everything. “How’s Tracy?”

He seemed hesitant to move on but answered anyway, “She’s doing wonderful. You wouldn’t believe it!”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. Christmas really can’t come fast enough.” I fiddled with the tassels at the end of my blanket, the fabric foreign in my fingers, my mind suddenly elsewhere.

“Who says you have to wait until Christmas?”

My eyes widened. “I just figured that with th?—”

Tristan cut me off. “You’re welcome here anytime. Besides, you can help Tracy finish the nursery.”

“Oh, I see,” I laughed, but my heart melted. “You just want free labor.”