I sigh and give her a pointed look, which she ignores. “How is Jake doing? Did she say?” I ask.
“Not really. She said he’s been a little monosyllabic when they talk, and they can only connect once a week for a short period of time, so it’s not much to go on.”
“Maybe he’ll thaw out a little more once he’s home.”
“Or he’ll get worse when he’s around everything that reminds him of Aria and he has more access to booze.”
“I hope not.”
Guilt swirls inside me like a remorseful tornado. I didn’t know how much Jake was struggling or that he’d been drinking so much. I had no comprehension of what Finley was going through, living with him for the past decade. I was too wrapped up in my work, my own grief over Aria’s death, and then Dad’s passing. And then Ben effectively cut me off from everyone who cared about me.
“You want takeout?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“I can order it.” I reach for my purse.
She waves a hand at me. “You always get it.”
“You’re letting me live with you. It’s the least I can do.” Especially since this quick visit has turned into a three-month extended stay.
I shouldn’t be imposing on my sister anymore, but I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back to Whitby. I love Finley, and I’m truly happy for her and Archer, but their honeymoon period and lovey-dovey eyes didn’t help in the face of my epic failure of a relationship. Not to mention the memories of Dad and Aria in every nook and cranny, which made me smile while simultaneously punching me in the gut. I was too emotionally fragile to be there so soon after leaving Ben.
Naively, I thought that I would have a plan by now, a light at the end of the tunnel, but I have nothing. I mean, I have a decent savings—I never let Ben put his name on my accounts, even though he tried to convince me otherwise. But that money would dry up in a flash if I tried to rent a place in the city, especially since the coffers have nothing coming in to replenish the balance and no income on the horizon. Not unless I can unbreak my brain sometime soon.
“You know I love having you here. It’s nice to have someone to come home to,” Mindy says.
I have no reason to doubt her statement, but guilt eats at me nonetheless. “If I wasn’t here, clogging up your spare room, you might have someone else to come home to. Someone who could do more than mope around and order takeout.”
She snorts. “I don’t need someone else to come home to. You know I’m married to my job.” She opens her eyes, her head tilting toward me. “Speaking of my job, I have to go to this record-release shindig on Friday in Brooklyn. You wanna come?”
Now it’s my turn to make a gross face. “I’d rather not.”
Mindy chucks a white throw pillow at my head. “Come with me.”
I laugh and toss it back at her.
She catches it with one hand. “Come on, Piper. It will be fun. We’ll dress up, get the label to send a car for us. You deserve to let loose. You’ve been working so hard lately.”
Ha. Yep. So hard.
“I’ll think about it. You want Tue Thai?” I ask.
Mindy sighs at my obvious subject change. “This conversation isn’t over. But yes.”
I’m already pulling up the app on my phone. “You want the usual?”
“Sounds good. I’m going to go get comfortable.” She stops at the door to her bedroom. “Get an extra order of crab Rangoon.”
“You got it,” I call right before she disappears. A minute later, the shower turns on.
I’m too ashamed to tell her the truth of my creative problems. Mindy is so successful and ambitious, and she would never let anything—let alone a man—get in her way. I don’t think she’s had a serious relationship since college—she’s been so focused on her career.
Her distraction makes it easy for me to hide the truth. I make sure to get home later sometimes so she thinks I’m working when really, I’m eating my bodyweight in Van Leeuwen ice cream while I try to draw inspiration by staring at a blank page. Like sucking concrete through a straw.
Maybe I should go to this party. Oliver is not going to happen. I need to turn my focus in another direction. Maybe this is it. Maybe I’ll find my muse there.