Page 4 of When We Are Complete
Nora shrugs. “It’s no five-star hotel, but it does the job.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much for letting me rent this room. I really hope I can make it home.”
She smiles, that easy, genuine Nora smile that always makes everything seem a little brighter. “You already do. If I had it my way, you’d never leave. We’d adopt a bunch of cats, swear off men, and be childless cat ladies forever.”
I laugh. “Deal. Speaking of men... how are you holding up since the breakup?”
Her smile falters just a little, and she gives me a shrug as we walk back into the open plan living room. “You know, ups anddowns. Mostly ups, though. It’s amazing how much clarity you get once you delete someone’s Netflix profile.”
I snort. “Truly empowering stuff. I brought reinforcements, by the way.” I gesture to the pint of mint chip ice cream on the counter.
She grins, eyes lighting up. “Therapy ice cream? Now you’re talking.”
“The best kind.”
She heads to the kitchen, coming back with the ice cream in one hand, two spoons in the other, tossing one my way.
We sink into the couch, and I scoop out a spoonful of mint chip, making a mental note to keep track. “So, is this thetotally over himpart of the breakup, or are we still inaccidentally stalk his Instagram at 2 a.m.mode?”
She scoops up her own spoonful, giving me a mock-serious look. “Let’s just say I may have had a minor slip-up involving his dog’s Instagram, okay?”
I burst out laughing. “The dog? You’re officially in deep.”
Nora rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing too. “Look, the dog’s innocent in all this. He can’t help being adorable.”
I hold up my spoon. “Fair point. To adorable dogs and emotional recovery via ice cream.”
“To that,” she says, clinking her spoon with mine before digging in again.
As we chat, I continue to count spoonfuls silently—Nine is the maximum I’ll allow myself. Nine is a good number. Nine and Two.
“So, how have you been holding up since your mom?” Nora’s voice trails off softly, as though she’s not sure if she should even be bringing it up. I didn’t invite Nora or anyone else to the funeral. I told her we were keeping it small, just family. The last thing I wanted was an audience to the hardest day of my life.
“Fine,” I reply automatically, even though it’s a lie. “It’s been hard, but, you know... I’m fine.”
I don’t dare admithowhard it’s been—not to Nora, not to anyone. It would mean admitting I’m not as strong as I promised Mom I’d be. The weight of that promise is already a knot in my chest, pulling tighter with each day that passes, and it’s safer this way—pretending everything’s fine.
She looks at me, her eyes full of empathy. She lost her own dad when she was just a kid. “I wish I’d been there for you. I bet you miss her a lot.”
With Mom gone, I’m floating, directionless. Yeah, I have a new job, which from the outside looks as though I have a concrete plan, but not knowing who I’m even trying to impress anymore is a real thing. Unmooring, unsettling, unending.
“I miss her so much. There’s just a lot left unsaid. Things I never got to show her. But that’s life, right? One minute you think you have all the time in the world, and the next, it’s gone.”
Nora’s quiet for a moment, her spoon hovering over the ice cream before she sets it down on the coffee table in front of us. “I know what you mean. I felt that way when Granny Sloane passed. Even though we got to say goodbye, it was still such a shock, still so much left unfinished.”
“Exactly.” The silence stretches for a few moments before I reach out and squeeze Nora’s hand. “Let’s talk about something else.”
She bites her lip. “Well, if we’re changing the subject, you know how Patrick’s getting married in two days—well, I was wondering, would you be my plus one? I really don’t want to turn up alone. Otherwise I’ll spend the night standing by the punch bowl, making awkward conversation with some distant aunt who wants to know when it’s my turn to get married.”
“So you need backup and someone to run interference?”
She groans. “Yes! Otherwise, I might not survive this. You have to say yes.”
I laugh, leaning back on the couch. “How could I say no to that? You know I’m always up for some awkward conversation with distant relatives.”
Nora grins, relieved. “Thank you. Seriously. Plus, you’ll get to watch Patrick be all grumpy and uncomfortable in a tux. That’s worth it alone.”
“Sold,” I say. “Awkward weddings and Patrick in a tux.”