Page 244 of A Taste of Vanilla

He waits a second before he leaves. Maybe because leaving is what he always does, staying feels impossible, and neither of us knows the right answer when one of the people we love most has just asked for space.

Then he picks up his boots and goes barefoot down the stairs.

The door closes behind him. And I’m alone.

The apartment holds the aftermath.

A roll of blue ribbon is left behind. I pick it up.

It’s soft between my fingers. Marley had probably brought it because she knew I’d love the color.

She was here because she loves me.

I sink to the edge of the mattress and press the ribbon to my chest.

For a while, I just cry.

But life keeps moving.

My phone buzzes on the table. For one hopeful second, I think it’s Marley.

It’s not. It’s Oliver.

OLIVER

You alive?

I stare at the message and type back with shaking fingers.

Technically.

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

Appear again.

Then:

OLIVER

That bad?

I look at the stairs. The ribbon. All the love in the room and the damage beside it.

I type:

Worse.

Oliver answers immediately.

OLIVER

Come down when you’re ready. No rush. Warren and I have it handled.

It’s eight in the morning.

I cry.