Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-One

The bottle of body wash shakes beneath my hands unstably. My eyes drift from the label to my stomach, but the moment I even begin to think of what happened today, the news I received, my mind shuts itself down, knowing I'm unable to deal with the reality I must face sooner or later.

Later. I must deal with it later.

...

"Just one more signature."

My uneasy expression descends upon the notary, Norman's lawyer and then unto Norman, who is seated beside me at the conference table. His signatures are already marked and witnessed. All that remains is one more scribble from me and his entire life's work will be placed into my hands for good. Norman White Public Relations will be mine. I get a reassuring nod from Norman, the go-ahead, as he smiles proudly, hiding any solemn feelings he may be experiencing right now.

The sun is pouring into the room, dawning a new day. The room smells of fresh, expensive coffee, which is placed before every person seated here.

The pressure, the sheer expectation of this moment doesn't escape me. Without the ability to think any clearer, I sign my name across the line and set down the pen with weighing hesitation, leaning back in my seat as the lawyer takes the contract to check through it all.

This is not a pleasant moment. Maybe someday I'll smile at the thought of the position I've obtained, this gift Norman has bestowed upon me, but today, I can only look away, wishing to be alone so I can collect my thoughts.

"I'm going to show them out," Norman tells me, which tears me momentarily out of the daze I had been successfully holding. I nod, urging him to go. The minute they are gone, I place my head into my hands—and weep.

...

"Are you alright?"

I meet Ed's worried expression as I stand up from the bathroom floor, flushing my sickness with a sigh. Heading to the sink, I nod to him, beaten by exhaustion. I hear Carlos and Rebecca screaming over the TV show from the living room. As I brush my teeth silently, I continue to look at Ed, watching me from the doorway.

"I'm alright," I mumble through the mouthful of toothpaste.

"Are you taking something for the cold?"

I nod.

"That is what this is, right?"

I nod again, refusing to acknowledge the question he's smartly asking.

"Scarlett."

I meet his gaze, more firmly this time. "Yes, Ed. I'm good. I'm just... reeling. That's all."

I spit out the toothpaste, and reach for the hand towel. He closes the door halfway and approaches me.

"I'm really worried about you. Scarlett, talk to me."

"I don't want to talk," I respond, quietly, turning to him with finality. His brows curve together as we stare at one another. "I'm sorry."

The man refuses to budge, observing me closely, as if he were working and I were a sickly patient under his care.

"The circles around your eyes are blue."

"I'm having trouble sleeping."

He gestures to the linen towel hanging from the rack. "Your skin is the shade of that towel."

"I've been sick. I haven't been in the sun."

"So, you are telling me my worry for you is completely unwarranted? I'm crazy to think there is something going on with you?" My refusal to answer only frustrates him further. "A month ago, you were coming back from Italy with Giovanni, and you were glowing. But the night I bailed you out, everything changed. You've never told me why it ended between you and Giovanni. I don't get what's happened, but I want you to be open with me."