Page 19 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Thank you. Likewise.”

The second he hung up, a loud sob broke from my chest and three months’ worth of anxiety spilled through my cracks. And it hurt. My chest felt like it was being pulled apart, rib by rib. I couldn’t stop crying.

“What’s happening, Del?” Tabitha wrapped her arms around me, her hand rubbing circles into my back.

I couldn’t breathe. I was heaving air, but I couldn’t- I didn’t- “She did it,” I sobbed.

“Who did what, honey?” Tabitha’s voice had taken on an unnerving, sweet tone, and that was enough to make me feel ridiculous for breaking down in public like that, so I started laughing and the laughing turned back into sobs - and God, someone would call the cops on me in a second because I had to look deranged.

“Cordelia. Childs,” I gasped through my laugh-sobs.

“This is happy tears?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure whether I was happy. I was every emotion I’d kept bundled up over months of putting on a brave face. Hurt. Afraid. Helpless. Hopeless. Angry. It all poured through me, and when the crying finally stopped, it felt like I had shrugged off a weighted blanket I’d kept wrapped around me since that day in Roger Childs’ office.

When all the emotions had poured out, only one was left in my lightened chest. Relief.

I sighed, sagging into Tabitha’s shoulder.

“Feel better, honey?” she cooed, only to turn and bark at someone to keep walking with her usual gruff voice.

Another laugh bubbled up, but this time it wasn’t interrupted by sobs. I filled Tabitha in on the phone call while she used the emergency wet wipes from my bag (purple pouch) to clean up my messed-up makeup.

“Well, shit,” she mumbled, dragging a soft tissue under my left eye, “who knew you just needed billionaire friends to handle your problems?”

I hitched another laugh and grimaced right after. “Stop, that hurts my throat.”

“That’s what she said.”

I laughed again, but the laugh turned into a pained groan. I wasn’t giving her any more ammunition, so I shut up and waited for her to finish cleaning me up.

I hadn’t even told my mother that I’d lost my job. Now, even the weight of that omission faded into nothingness. Mom would have told me to get a different job, any job, as long as I made money - but I wasn’t ready to give up on my career just because I’d slipped up once. “Hey Tabitha,” I whispered, when she pocketed the dirty makeup wipes, “can you come with me to Cordelia’s?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help her.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded and let myself be pulled back to my feet. “Yeah. I think she needs a non-billionaire friend to help with her career. I want this for her, too.”

“You want her to have a Menty B between a Starbucks and a Verizon?” She patted down my jeans, swatting off any dirt.

“A fair chance.”

* * *

“Yes?”Victor pulled the door open but didn’t move, taking up almost the entire frame.

“Do you do yoga? Because we could do some awesome couple yoga videos. I bet you can lift me with one hand,” Tabitha babbled, tilting her head sideways, “and do those tattoos go everywhere?”

He turned from her to me, ignoring her questions. “I’ll do it,” I explained my presence on their doorstep, “Tabitha’s here for emotional support.”

We had to wait outside for a minute before being waved through. Cordelia bit her lip and smoothed her hands down her pale pink dress repeatedly at the sight of Tabitha in her office. “Hello.” Her voice quivered, but she nodded at Victor who took that as a sign to leave us alone. “I’m Cordelia.”

“Ooh.” Tab swiveled left and right between us. “I get it. You’re like Smurf Cordelia.”

“That’s Tabitha,” I said. “She knows everything. I hope that’s okay.”