Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Sure, my muscles are sore and my skin abused, and the inflammation from the sudden influx of fluids doesn’t help either.
But it’s not what I’m feeling physically. It’s deeper. Dirtier. Much more complicated.
I miss her.
And I wonder if she misses me.
January 14th
Avery
The shower feels amazing. My skin is pink and raw from scrubbing off layers of dirt and island grime, and I can feel the warmth of the scalding-hot water all the way down to my bones. The tiny hotel-sized shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom don’t do much for my hair, but at least it’s no longer tangled and greasy.
If I close my eyes to avoid the mirror, I almost feel like myself.
There’s no sound in my room, all my alarms and machines turned off to free me for the shower, and moving my arm without an IV for the first time since yesterday afternoon is surprisingly liberating.
It’s still early, the beginning of the shift with my new nurse, Elizabeth, but with the scant amount of sleep I got last night, it might as well still be yesterday.
Perusing the bag of skincare my mom had delivered, care of a Neiman Marcus salesperson, along with a fresh set of clothes this morning, I settle on a simple moisturizer and call it a day.
Normally, I’d work my way through a painstaking one-hundred-step routine, complete with serums, moisturizers, treatments, and makeup, and I’d blow-dry my hair section by section and smooth it out with the precision of a stylist.
But this morning, I just…don’t care.
I towel off my hair until it’s damp and let it hang loose around my shoulders. My skin feels tight from the shower, but I can’t muster the energy to do anything about it. Thirteen days on the island stripped away a lot of things, and apparently, my meticulous grooming habits were one of them.
As I pull a sweatshirt over my head and walk out of the bathroom, I’m hit with a memory of Henry’s handsome bearded face, cherishing the peeling skin of my nose and chest. I hadn’t brushed my hair in days, my face was bare, and my body crusted with building salt and sweat, and it didn’t matter.
He could see me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I find it hard to imagine how.
I shake the thought away as I step back into the hospital room and tuck my tattered sweater into the hospital-provided plastic bag with my other belongings. It isn’t much—a dirty orange bikini, the waist pack I packed in vain, and an utterly ruined pair of Golden Goose shoes.
The door swings open after a manic set of knocks, and June, Beau, and both my parents trail inside in a single-file line. Juniper is the first to pull me in for a hug, and now that I’m standing with two entirely free arms, I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her shoulders in return.
“Good morning,” I say with a small laugh when she doesn’t let go.
Beau pulls her gingerly away, and I search the two of them carefully, my eyebrows pulling together. “Where’s Addy?”
“We left her with a sitter this morning. I wanted to get up and go get your phone as soon as the store opened, but then Henry called and said his assistant Cara was already taking care of it.”
“You talked to Henry?” I ask, my voice undeniably hopeful.
“Yeah. Last night and then again this morning. He’s been asking how you are.”
“He has?” I want to know more, to ask what Beau’s told him about me and if there’s any way we can arrange to go to his floor and see him, but before I can, the door swings open again.
Five older women—whom I know very well—march in, armed with balloons, flowers, and gift bags. I’m surprised to see them, given how tight I’ve been told the security is to get in here, but knowing their connections with the whole Miami judicial scene, I shouldn’t be.
I doubt there’s a single door in the whole county these bad-ass geriatrics couldn’t get in if they wanted to.
“Oh, Avery!” Ethel exclaims, rushing to my bedside. “We thought we lost you! But we saw you on the news! The news, Avery!”
Blanche, Dottie, Joanne, and Sarabeth follow close behind, all dressed to the nines in Chanel tweed, Burberry trench coats, and Yves Saint Laurent blouses. I know their wardrobes by heart because I picked out every piece.
“We had no idea what happened to you, Avery!” Sarabeth exclaims as the five of them hover around me so tightly, I end up pushed back into sitting on my bed. “We all tried to call you a hundred times, and then Blanche saw you on the news—saying you were missing!”
Dottie moves to grab my hand. “Honey, we were so worried about you.”
“So worried,” Ethel adds as she reaches out to run her hands through my hair.