Page 31 of Park Avenue Princess
“Are I what?” I stupidly say.
Stephanie chuckles. “Are you pregnant?”
“Oh God, no!”
“Okay, okay, no worries.” She continues to laugh. “Come on.”
She leads the way into the building and toward the elevator, taking us to the fifth floor. Twenty minutes later after telling Stephanie what a pleasure it was to meet her and wishing her all the best with her delivery, I have massage sessions booked for me and Addison. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my best friend since spewing hurtful words at her this morning and I have some serious apologizing to do.
Back outside, I hail a cab and head toward the professional building where Addy’s office is located. While riding the elevator up, I honestly have no game plan other than to tell her how sorry I am and beg her for forgiveness. When the car stops at her floor and the door opens, I stride toward the receptionist. Her eyes widen a bit as her gaze flickers from my eyes to my forehead then back again.
“Hi Shonda, I’m here to see Addison.”
“She didn’t mention she was expecting you.”
Expecting me to get my shit together. “Uh, no, but it’s important I speak with her if she’s available, please.”
“One moment.” Shonda picks up the phone and speaks into it. “Lynne DuVall is requesting to see you.” After a pause, she says, “Of course.”
Just when I think I’m getting the brush-off, Shonda tells me to proceed back to Addison’s office.
“Thank you.” She nods and I turn to walk down the corridor, stopping at the second door. I knock and immediately hear Addy yell outcome in. Taking a cleansing breath, I push open the door and walk inside, the door closing behind me.
Addison’s on the phone but stops mid-sentence when she sees me. She quickly recovers and tells whoever she’s talking to that she’ll call them back later. Hanging up, she stands and rushes around her desk toward me.
“What the hell happened to you?” She gently pushes strands of hair away from my forehead as she gets a look at the bump I have yet to see. Obviously it’s quite a sight if the look of concern on Addy’s face is any indication.
“Uh, well, I walked into a door.” When she gives me a questioning look, I go on. “Well, the door was being opened just as I was reaching for it, but my head made it there before my hand did. Smacked me good, apparently.”
“Did you get any ice on it?” She gingerly glides her finger across the swell, causing me to wince. “Dammit, sorry. Do you need something for it? An analgesic? I’m sure I have something.”
She starts to turn away but I stop her with my hand on her arm. When she turns back around, I envelop her in a hug and squeeze tight.
“I’m so damned sorry about this morning,” I whisper, my voice becoming raw with welling emotions.
She reciprocates, hugging me tight and whispering in return. “I know you are, you brat.” She ends with a chuckle and I emit a choked laugh as tears are rolling down my face.
Addy draws back and her moist eyes soften as she rubs my cheeks with her thumbs. “Well now you look like a battered woman with that damn knot on your head and mascara ruining your face.”
I sputter. “Thanks.”
“That’s what friends are for. Come on.” She takes my hand and leads me into her adjoining bathroom. After turning on the warm water, she grabs a cloth, wetting it then begins mopping my face just like a mother would do. We catch each other’s gaze a time or two as she works in silence, and when she’s done, she turns off the water and drops the cloth in the sink. Searching through a cabinet, she locates acetaminophen, fills a glass with water, and hands me the items. “Take,” she orders. After I chase the pills with the liquid, she leads me out to a seating area in the corner of her office.
She drops onto the couch, pulling me with her. Unable to shed my bag or coat due to her hands holding mine—and not that I’d bother just yet—I collapse against the cushions, close my eyes, and sigh.
“Lynne, what’s wrong? This isn’t just about this morning, is it?”
I turn my head and crack an eye open to look at her, seeing her face etched with true worry. Continuing to slouch, I open my other eye and turn to face her.
“That’s a big part, and I really am sorry for what I said. You know I’d never do or say anything to hurt you,” I rush on. “Stupid defense mechanism. I can’t keep a lock on my emotions and—”
“Stop. It’s done, behind us, so don’t worry about it. I know you struck out at the situation, not at me.”
“You’re too forgiving.”
She gives me a teasing grin. “You want me to torture you with guilt? I can do that.”
“No,” I chuckle. “I’d really like my friend’s strong shoulder to lean on.”
