Page 20 of The Broken Heart Playlist
She has no idea I cry in the shower. It’s the only place I allow myself to break down. And I want no one (not Lisset and not my family) to witness me momentarily falling apart, because it’s ugly and noisy and sometimes, like now, it goes on for a while.
Ever since Gideon’s unexpected gesture of kindness, I’ve been feeling off-balance, culminating in this. I still can’t believe I’m crying over such a small gesture. Someone mowed my lawn. So what? Why am I making it into such a big deal?
I wish I could control my emotions better. It frustrates me when I allow them to overcome me like this.
My sister’s wrong. Crying never helps.
A few minutes later, after I’ve worked shampoo into my hair, it comes to me. In the four years I’ve lived in this house, no one has offered to mow my lawn. Not a single person.
My heart pinches. A small, insignificant gesture has suddenly become momentous.Thisis why I’m so upset. Gideon’s thoughtfulness is stirring inside me the tiniest flicker of hope. Which I need to snuff out immediately. The last thing I need in my life is a man who stirs up that emotion. Hope carves out a hole for vulnerability and I can no longer afford to be vulnerable.
CHAPTER NINE
[MESSAGES]
Tess:I need to clear my head. Want to go for a walk?
Kate:You’re not working?
Tess:The advantage of being my own boss.
Kate:Are you planning on annoying me and offering unwelcome advice on this walk?
Tess:Of course!
Kate:Fine. Mondays suck anyway.
Tess:I’ll be at your place in half an hour.
It’s one of those clear, beautiful winter days. Tess is like a child let out of her playpen. Her green eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed from the cold, crisp air. She tells me she’s just emerged from a grueling stretch launching a new birthday card range.
“After sitting for so long, it feels good to get the blood flowing.” She sniffs deeply. “And fresh air. Wonderful.”
My head aches, it always does after a crying spell, but I manage a smile. Her effervescence and zest for life is catching.
“What about you?” she asks. “Any shoots scheduled?”
“I have a cereal shoot tomorrow.”
She gives a tiny hand clap. “I love insider details. Do you still use white glue instead of milk?”
I nod. “Milk makes the cereal too soggy. It ends up un-photographable.”
“Speaking of photographers, are you still working with Joel?”
“Yes.”
She shoves her hands in her pockets. “And there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
“Nothing other than a professional working relationship.”
“Pity. I think the two of you would suit each other.”
“Why on earth would you think that?” I ask, my voice laced with irritation.
“He’s handsome and you’re gorgeous.” She throws me a sidelong glance full of admiration. “You know, I’ve always wanted to look like you, with your cheekbones and dark eyes and olive skin.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t be silly.”
