I took a shower and dressed myself in clean pajamas. By the time I made it down to the kitchen, the smell of my favorite breakfast foods filled the air — even though it was no longer breakfast time. Hell, it was even too late for brunch. I shuffled into the room sheepishly and sat at the breakfast bar.

“Coffee?” Minerva asked.

“Yes, please.”

Guilt swamped me as she poured my coffee into my favorite mug, made just the way I liked. “I’m sorry,” I said when she set the cup in front of me. “I didn’t mean to snap at you upstairs. I’m just—“

“Feeling blue. I know. I was here the last time. Remember?”

I nodded and sipped my coffee, feeling appropriately chastised. Because Minerva was here, the last time I spiraled like this. She was there after every miscarriage. After the cancer diagnosis and the hysterectomy. In truth, Minerva was better equipped to handle this than anyone who knew me.

“So…” she began while spooning grits, eggs, and bacon on a plate with two mile high biscuits. “Are you ready to tell me what’s got you down this time?”

I shook my head, unwilling to unload this particular sin. “I don’t know that it’s one thing,” I answered vaguely.

“Hm,” she said, handing me the plate. “You’ve been like this since Jared announced his engagement. I thought it would let up after the wedding. Especially since you seemed to be in such good spirits during the festivities.” Minerva leaned against the counter and regarded me with raised eyebrows.

“It’s a big milestone. Like empty nest times a thousand. I’m allowed to have a hard time with this.”

“That’s absolutely true. You are. But you’ve seemed a bit worse the last couple of weeks. Did something happen?”

I tried to ignore it. Tried to bury it under the mouthful of grits, eggs, and a bite of bacon. But the tears welling in my eyes and the tightening in my throat made it too hard to swallow. I stared at my plate and kept chewing as I blinked the tears back.

“You can tell me,” she said softly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

And I could. She knew everything about me, so why not this? “I did something I shouldn’t have,” I sputtered.