She jerks forward. “You still have it? What, did you dig it out of the trash last night?” The look on her face makes my gut squirm.
“I’m not ready to part with it, okay? I didn’t want to get into it with my mom.”
“You could have been honest with me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. But look—”
I try to ignore Brie’s thinned lips as I flip open my sketchbook to one of the more recent drawings. Devin peers back at us, his head tipped in laughter.
“Now, where’s my phone…” Fishing my phone out of my bag, I drag the adjacent armchair up to the sofa and begin googling. “Here. Blooms & Baubles. This is where he works.” I tap on their website. Hours, order information, bestselling bouquets, but nothing about personnel besides a few lines about being a third-generation family run business. I tap on their Instagram account. All flowers.
I snap. “Devin’s brother works there too. What was his last name again? Not Bloom. Devin Sizeman… Seymour?” Blooms & Baubles has more than a thousand followers on Instagram, and I type “Devin” in the search bar. No accounts with Devin in the name are following the store. I try googling several iterations of his first and last name. Nothing.
“Damn it!” I smack my sketchbook. Xerxes lets out an ear-splitting whistle from the arm of the sofa. A single traitorous tear spills onto my cheek, and I dash it away with my fist. “I saw him. I know I did.”
Silently, Brie slides over until her thigh is inches from mine. Her chest rises and falls heavily, but her hand is steady when she places it gently on my forearm. “Cass, I want to believe you. I really do. But we’ve been here before, remember? You were so sure when you woke up from your coma that you had a boyfriend named Devin. But we know he’s not real. Even your doctors agree he’s the result of your traumatic brain injury. So, is it more likely that he’s somehow been real all along and hiding out—despite the fact your phone and text records show no routine communication with anyone last spring besides me and your family? Or is it more likely that you think you saw someone who looks like Devin?”
All the air rushes out of me and I deflate like a balloon. Tipping forward, I dig my fingers through my hair and attempt to ignore the stone settling over my chest. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. It couldn’t have been him.”
“What’s the name of that Cleveland Clinic neurologist you were seeing?”
“Dr. Holloway.”
“Why don’t we call Dr. Holloway and schedule an appointment for sometime in the next few weeks? I’ll take off work and drive you, for moral support.”
My eyes burn when I look up at her. “Am I going crazy, Brie?”
She winces, and her shoulders lift in a half shrug before she smooths her expression. “No, sweetie. You’ve just been through something none of us can possibly understand. Your brain isn’t operating exactly the same as it used to, but that doesn’t mean it’s broken. Or that you’re crazy. Which, come on now, isn’t a very helpful term. You’re experiencing some neurological struggles, that’s all. We’ll find a solution, I promise.”
Toppling sideways, I rest my head on her shoulder. “What would I do without you?”
Wrapping her arms around me, she gives me a squeeze. “You’re the most resilient person I know. You’d do just fine.”
A doorbell cuts through the heavy silence. “I’ll get it,” says Brie. She pads through the dining room and disappears around the corner.
“Hey, Brie. Is the garbage disposal still not working?” Marcus’s deep voice hums through the house.
“Now’s not a great time, Marcus,” Brie says.
“It’s okay, he can come in.” I attempt to inject some pep into my voice, but it comes out as miserable as I feel.
What am I going to do? Can I really continue living on my own and working at the firm if I’ve already succumbed to Grand Devin Delusions? Mom was right… I never should have moved out or tried to reenter the workforce. Clearly, I’m not ready.
Heavy footsteps approach, and Marcus appears in the living room behind Brie. He pulls a double take when he spots me. “Are you okay?”
I give him a weak smile. “Fine.”
He nods hesitantly, but ambles closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good. Is there something I can do? Anything I can get you?”
“Unless you happen to have the world’s strongest drink in your back pocket, no. Thank you though.”