“You could be with Ford,” I taunt myself like the crazy person I’m beginning to think I am. Pouring myself a cup of hot tea with honey, I hope it somehow helps me get to sleep.

It won’t.

There won’t be sleep when my heart hurts so much.

When my body misses his touch.

As my fingers itch to touch him, to feel him grin against the side of my neck in the middle of the night, sleep will be out of reach. Just like he is.

The bowl of half-eaten soup sits next to the sink. Half of it is probably full of tears as I took the soup that Ford asked her to bring me and cried on her shoulder.

Carrying my teacup, I make my way into the living room and set it on the coffee table. The pillows bounce as I drop onto the cushions and pick up the remote. There’s nothing on but the infomercials I’ve already watched twice. I almost purchased the copper pots.

“That’s how pathetic you are,” I tell myself.

Proving that point, I jump when my phone glows beside me. In one quick move, I swipe it up. When I see Violet’s name, I almost throw it across the room.

“Hey,” I say into the line.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I saw you’re still up.”

“How did you see I’m still up? It’s like two in the morning.”

“I was out,” she says snarkily. “I happened to see your lights on. Thought I’d check on you.”

Tossing the remote on the other side of the couch, I get comfortable. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Want me to come back by?”

“No,” I sigh. “Go home or wherever you’re going.”

“Ford called me a couple of hours ago,” she admits. “He wanted to see how you were feeling.”

“He could’ve called me.”

“I believe you said you wanted space.” She singsongs it, like she’s rubbing it in my face. “You could’ve called him, you know.”

I hate when she’s right and there’s nothing I can do about it. After a long, drawn-out sigh, I get the nerve to stop the façade and just be frank. I’m too tired to pretend anything else at this point.

“What am I doing?” I ask her. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

“I have no idea. You’re going to have to tell me, friend.”

“I’m just so, so tired.”

“Fine. Let me walk you through this,” she groans. “Boil it down for me. What is it that you are really afraid of? What is the image you see when you have these panic sessions.”

Choking back a memory, I clear my throat. “I’m afraid of getting in so deep with him that I’m at his mercy.”

“Elaborate.”

“Damn it, Vi,” I gruff. Getting up from the sofa, I begin pacing the living room. “I can’t just switch my feelings on and off with Ford. I love him, Vi. Like, I love him.”

“That’s good.”

“Not if he decides he doesn’t love me back,” I point out. “What if he gets a wild hare up his ass and wants to go campaigning with Barrett? I can’t do that. We have the store. Besides, I don’t want to do that. But then what? What happens to me?”

“Whatever you want to happen to you.”

“I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am. To be strong and smart and capable. When I’m around him, I feel myself relying on him. Needing him. I don’t want to do that because …”

“Because it gives him power,” she says, finishing my sentence. “He told me you don’t trust him.”

Even though she can’t see me, I shrug.

“El, you’re smart to want to protect yourself. But you can’t go through life waiting on the next shoe to drop.”

“It just always seems like there’s one just waiting to fall.”

“There is. It’s life. It’s what happens,” she laughs. “But you’ll be okay. You’ll survive. Look at all you’ve survived already.”

She’s right. I know that. I pride myself on being a survivor and not a victim. But that doesn’t make it easier to change the way I see the world.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” she says, “but I think you need to inventory your life. Decide what you want in it and what you don’t. And be prepared to live with those choices.”

Her words hit me like a dose of cold water. I glance at the clock and see it’s way too late to call Ford now.

“I’ll give him a call in the morning,” I tell her. “We’ll see if we can work it out.”

“Good girl. You’re meeting Heath and I in the morning at eight, right? We’re supposed to figure out how to style the mannequins.”

“I’ll be there. And, Vi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being such a good friend to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

I hang up the phone and head to my room. This time, when I lay my head down, I’m lulled to sleep by Ford’s laugh.