Really, though, it’s fine. I mean, sure, I’m constantly kicking at loneliness, a feeling I’ve worked hard to avoid since I was old enough to know what that feeling was. Yeah, I can feel it peeking around corners anyway, curling up next to me at night in that empty extra space in my bed. Absolutely, watching my best friend find the kind of love I once thought I had, too, is a little soul-destroying, as is being knee-deep in my best friend’s wedding festivities, knowing that in ten days I have to stand beside—
Anyway. I’m good. One hundred and ten percent okay.
My phone buzzes. I jump, shaking off the last thought. It came within inches of breaking a rule on a list I created when I crawled back from New York five years ago, dragging my obliterated heart with me: never think about that era with Eli—
“Hey!” I whisper-yell, flicking myself on the forehead. “Get it together.”
I turn my attention to Adam’s text: Can you help with a DJ list that isn’t shitty?
That deserves a voice message. “Can I help with a list? Seriously?”
Like all the other times Adam’s called me in for support, it’s the serotonin hit I need to chase that lonely feeling away.
I just wish it would last.
Adam’s text comes in as a Teams notification dings politely on my computer. My head swivels on instinct, ponytail sweeping across my cheek.
Nia Osman: hey, can I borrow you for 5?
Adam and my boss needing me plays tug-of-war on my people-pleasing tendencies, but only one of them is paying me. Adam’s broken DJ is going to have to wait.
Nia needs to chat, I text. Take a deep breath, listen to your Calm app. I’ll come back to you ASAP.