Page 139 of Booked on You
She’ll come back.
Ezra
You don’t know that.
Millie
I know what I saw when you two were together. Have faith.
I want to have faith. But faith feels dangerous when the alternative is getting my heart broken.
I pour myself a bourbon on ice. The glass sweats condensation onto my hand, and I watch the ice melt.
Scarlett has ten days to decide whether she’s renewing her lease or returning to Charleston.
The gala is next Saturday, and I’ll be standing in a room full of people making a speech about supporting young artists. I move to the back porch and gulp down the bourbon, wishing it would numb my feelings. When I walk back inside, I grab the bottle off the counter, then go to the third floor and get to work. The house is too quiet.
My phone dings.
Scarlett
I’m lining up to board!
Ezra
Love it when they’re on time.
Scarlett
Yes! I had a vodka and cranberry. Two actually. I feel better.
I take a picture of the bourbon by the pottery wheel and send it to her.
Scarlett
Love it.
Ezra
Text me when you get to your apartment so I know you made it okay.
Scarlett
I will.
I have so much more I want to say but can’t find the right words. So I keep it simple.
Ezra
Have another vodka and cranberry mid-flight.
Scarlett
I might. Boarding now.
I heart her comment, then set my phone down, returning to the pottery wheel. The clay is waiting, and I actually have a lot of work to catch up on for the gala since we escaped to the beach for a few days. I’m grateful for something to focus on besides the fact that she’s gone.
My hands find their rhythm as the wheel spins, and for the next few hours, I make piece after piece. Bowls and vases and plates that I’ll glaze when my brain isn’t so scattered. The work grounds me, even when my thoughts feel like they’re spinning out of control.
