Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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I'm exhausted when I wake up the next morning. I barely slept last night. The things Mr. McKinnie said to me were beautifully heartbreaking, but he spoke with such finality – like he was already gone – and his words ran on a constant loop in my mind. I tossed and turned most of the night, and once I realized sleep wasn't going to come, I tip-toed down to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of bourbon all while trying to imagine what our lives will be like without Mr. McKinnie in it. I'm trying to prepare myself, I guess.
His sentiment was sweet. It gave me much more power than I deserve, but it was sweet. I've been educated on Greyson's depression, the dark days he, and everyone close to him, endured after his retirement, and I saw it firsthand when I got home. But I have depression and a darkness in me too, or at least I did before Greyson opened his heart – forgiving me for the way I hurt him – and let me back in.
I know his father thinks I brought him back to life, but in fact, I think Greyson has been the one to revive me.
I lumber into the kitchen and open the fridge, staring at the carton of eggs like they're going to magically turn into a spinach and feta omelet. I know a healthy, hearty breakfast will only make me feel better, but I don't have the energy to make an entire spread. So, I grab a bowl from the cabinet and pour myself some Frosted Flakes. Milled corn, salt, and sugar – what better way to start the day?
I really need to get back to eating healthy.
"Good morning, honey!" my mother chirps as she strolls into the kitchen. It's field day at school and she's wearing her "Good Sports Are Always Winners!" t-shirt. "I didn't even hear you come in last night. How was dinner?"
My Frosted Flakes suddenly feel like sawdust in my mouth. "Um...it was okay. He wasn't feeling great, so he just ate some of the chicken noodle soup I'd made him earlier in the week."
"And how's Julianna holding up?"
I shrug and swirl my now soggy cereal around in the bowl. "Fine, I think. She's putting on a brave face for all of us."
"It was sweet of you to spend the week with him, Del." She rounds the corner of the island and places a kiss on top of my head. "He looks at you like you're one of his own, and I don't need to ask him to know how much he appreciates you spending your free time with him."
My stomach rolls with nausea at my mother's words – words that echo the exact ones Mr. McKinnie said to me last night.
"I know," I say. My voice is a raspy whisper as I try and talk around the ache of emotion in my throat.
"Have you spoken to your boyfriend," she asks in a teasing, sing-song voice.
"Yes." I roll my eyes. "I talked to him last night. He was going out with some of the guys and assumed he'd be getting home late, so he called me before he left."
A blush warms my cheeks, and I can't help but smile when I think about Greyson and our communication while he's been gone this week. He's texted me good morning and goodnight every single day since he left. He's called me at least once a day when he gets some free time. He's said he misses me, and he can't wait to see me, and that he can't stop thinking about me, but there's also been a bit of sexting between the two of us – mostly from him.
