“Anything else?”
I scratched the top of my head. “Do you have any pasta? With alfredo sauce?”
“Got a spicy chicken pasta with broccoli.”
“Perfect. That.”
“Dessert?”
“Mmm, something with chocolate.”
“Fair enough. Anything else?”
I paused. “Ketchup, garlic breadsticks--or something like that--and… a bowl of fruit.”
“Great. I’ll look up the name and have it delivered within the hour.”
I sighed with relief. “Thank you so much.”
“Uh huh.”
The man hung up and I fumbled the phone, dropping it to the floor. I figured I could deal with it later. I rolled back over onto the bed and closed my eyes, feeling myself quickly drift off to sleep again.
Before a knocking at the door jerked me awake.
I looked over at the balcony and Clint still sat there. His head bobbing. His leg jiggling. Almost as if he were listening to music. Another knock came at the door. A bit harder this time. And I forced myself off the bed.
“Guess I’ll get it,” I murmured.
Then again, I did order it for us.
I opened the hotel room door and expected the man from the phone on the other side. The smell of the food made my mouth water and I couldn’t wait to get Tylenol in my system. But when the door opened, I found Allison standing there, clutching the rolling silver tray of food.
“Mind if I come in? They delivered it to our room. And I’m pretty sure Michael stole some of your breadsticks.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. Come on in.”
I went back and sat on the edge of the bed. I took Clint’s tray of food and sat it beside me, in case he wanted to come eat. Then I poured myself a glass of water. I chugged it before taking a bite of my pasta, moaning over its taste. The creaminess of the sauce. The spice of the chicken. The crispy broccoli. Oh, it was damn near perfection. I almost forgot to take my Tylenol until Allison held it out for me. And as I tossed it back, I guzzled down another glass of water.
“Clint, I’ve got a burger in here for you.”
But he still didn’t budge.
“He talking to you at all?”
I sighed at Allison’s question. “No. He’s been out there ever since we got back.”
Allison tried. “We’ve got Tylenol and water for you. Want some?”
Like magic, Clint got out of his chair. His eyes avoided mine as my best friend poured him a drink. She handed him the Tylenol and he tossed it back, then chased it with a few sips of water. And when he set the glass down, his eyes met mine.
Those pain-stricken, angry, empty eyes.
I remember those eyes.
He picked up his tray of food and took it back out to the balcony. He slumped into his chair and started mindlessly eating. My eyes darted around the tray before I found the ketchup. And I went to go give it to him.
Until Allison took it from me.