My fatigue was total, existing well beyond the physical. It necessitated a lot of energy to pretend like I was fine, like my life hadn’t been turned inside out like a lonely, errant sock. I longed to have a place where I could be alone just as much as the thought of being alone terrified me. Without the need to hold myself together for the sake of those around me, I worried I’d slip into a state I couldn’t control.

The taxi swung toward the curb outside Longbourne, and as I paid, I weighed my options on how to get from the cab to the shop efficiently. My umbrella seemed a silly choice just for the few feet to the door, but my hair would appreciate it, since I’d made a secondary poor choice to leave it down today. Then again, I’d be heading straight for a hot shower from here, and I’d only be inside for a few minutes, just long enough to get Tess to sign the liability forms for a venue and to approve a scope of work agreement we’d finally completed.

Umbrellaless it was.

I gathered my bag and umbrella, taking a breath to brace myself before opening the door and stepping out. As quickly as I could, I got both feet on the curb, turning to shut the door before bolting toward the shop. I was nearly in the inset threshold when a sheet of water overran the gutter and fell like a curtain on me.

I froze in shock, furious and freezing and soaked with filthy rainwater, hair dripping and coat a sponge. One breath, slow and controlled, and I found my wits, stepping into the nook to open the door to the shop, marked with a Closed sign. The sound of rain was muffled when I closed the door, the bell ting-a-linging cheerily, mocking me. Rain patted the tiled floor as I stood in the dark shop in icy indignation.

I headed to the back, frozen to the bone, peering back into the workspace for Tess. My only thought beyond my state of undoing was how desperate I was to put this day to bed and move on. Surely, I’d feel better after a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Surely, tomorrow would be better.

“Hello?” I called, twisting my cold hair into a rope, wringing it out as I walked toward the back.

“Back here,” a deep baritone voice that was definitely not Tess’s called.

I faltered but kept trucking to the back, hoping I could find something to dry my hands off with so I could extract the paperwork from my leather attaché without ruining it. Swiftly and as a diversion, I counted the minutes until I could leave, teeth chattering while I tallied it up. Twelve minutes should do the trick with time to spare.