Sisters: All Things Sweet [book three]

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I hear footsteps. Arms wrap around my shoulders. I hear Esmee's voice, then Chelsea's. They lead me to the front of the house. Through my splayed fingers, Bridgit unlocks Esmee's front door and holds it open as I sob.

Somehow I make it to Esmee's bed and Bridgit blankets me in a towel. I shiver in my wet clothes, and Chelsea persuades me to change into something dry. Even in front of my friends, I hesitate before I let them help me undress. Bridgit slips off my wet sneakers while Chelsea lifts my tank top over my head. Esmee rummages through her wardrobe and pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a jumper.

"You want to go to the bathroom to change your underwear?" Bridgit says, and I nod. I wrap the towel around me like a toga dress and clasp Esmee's spare clothes between my fingers. I cross the landing to the Jackson's upstairs bathroom and strip from my bikini. Soggy and wet strewn on the floor, my white and blue bikini looks ridiculous to me now.

I slip the jumper over my head and pull the sweatpants over my hips. I tug my hair into a wet bun but I don't care. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and I burst into tears again. I'm a mess. It doesn't matter how well put together I let myself appear to be.

I own a cake shop; I've bypassed college to chase my dream with my best friend and my sister. Despite what I reassure myself, nothing will change the fact that I no longer have a Dad, and while the rest of my friends are enjoying being young, I'm entering the daily grind three years early. While my friends are drinking and making friends and falling in love, I'll be doing this for the rest of my life. Their future is waiting to be paved. The possibilities for them are endless.

What have I done?

I dab my eyes with toilet roll and leave the bathroom. Bridgit, Esmee and Chelsea sit on the bed, chatting, when I re-enter. I feel their gazes, and I watch my feet pad across the carpet instead of properly facing them.

"Feel better?" Chelsea says, as I tuck my legs under my knees beside Bridgit.

I nod. "I do," I say, and my bottom lip wobbles. My eyes well with tears again and Esmee pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you guys as much as I should have. I guess--I guess I had spent so much time thinking about my dad after he died that I wanted to stop thinking about him altogether."

"You don't have to apologise," Chelsea says. "You were grieving."

"I'm still grieving," I say. Tears slide down my cheeks and I wipe them with my sleeve. "I don't know what to do anymore. If I let myself think about him, I'm scared I'll just waste away."

"There's nothing wrong with thinking about your dad," Esmee reassures. "There's nothing wrong with missing him. But you've got to look after yourself as well."

"I know," I say. "I have no routine. Nothing feels familiar."

"It will," Bridgit says. "It's only because it's summer and no-one knows what they're doing. Have you spoken to Michele about it?"

I shake my head. "I should."

"She probably feels exactly the same way," Esmee says, and I know that she's probably right.

"I'll leave you guys to the pool party," I say, and I make a move to stand up.

Esmee holds my arm. "We'll do what you want us to do," she says. "You're more important than some silly pool party for people I'm gonna hardly speak to come the fall."

I smile. "Thanks," I say, "But I should go--"

"Not to work, though," Chelsea says. "Right?"