by Becky Monson
Through hiccups and snot and tears, I explain the whole crappy, sordid night to Gram as we sit on the couch. My coat is still on, my snot-filled scarf still around my neck. She rubs my arm and offers a sigh or a “humph” or a “tsk” when it’s appropriate.
“Oh, Bridgette, I’m so very sorry,” Gram says, her eyes round with empathy. “You know, if he doesn’t see all that you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
I let out a big breath and give her a look of defeat. She’s going to pull out the sympathetic looks and words of comfort already? I really don’t want to go there yet.
“Thanks, Grams. I know you mean well, but I’m not ready to hear how ‘it’s his loss,’ or ‘I could do better,’ or ‘you’ll find someone better,’“ I say and look down at my hands, twiddling the ends of my scarf.
“Well, all those things are true.” She pats my shoulder. “But I’ll hold off on all that until you’re ready. How about a cup of hot chocolate to warm you up? I’ll put marshmallows in it, just the way you like.”
I actually stopped liking marshmallows in my hot chocolate when I was twelve, but I haven’t had the heart to tell her. “I’ll pass tonight, Gram. I think I’m going to go cry myself to sleep.”
“Yes, yes. Cry it all out. I will be here if you need to talk,” she says, sympathetically. It occurs to me that Gram has most likely been through breakups in her time. I seem to imagine the only person she ever dated was Pops, but I can tell by the look on her face she knows exactly what I’m going through.
I go into my room and shut the door. I take off my coat and dress, put on a tee shirt and sweats, and crawl into bed without brushing my teeth or washing my face.
I cry until I fall asleep.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a village to write a book.
I could not have finished this book without help from the following people: Kathryn Biel, Jennifer Peel, Karen Browning, Lori Schleiffarth, Robin Huling, Julie Dirks … and so many more. It’s nearly three in the morning, so I’m having trouble remembering everyone. But just know that I appreciate you all.
I also need to give a shout-out to Dr. Pepper and chocolate, for you were both major players in the finishing of this book. My creativity (and love handles) have flourished thanks to you.
Thanks to my editors, Kaylynn Flanders, and Heather Godfrey. You save me! Thanks for making me sound somewhat smart.
Thank you to my cover artist, Angela Talley Smith for your incredible talent and ability to make the ideas in my head happen.
To my family and friends and everyone else who has had to listen to me bounce story ideas off you and deal with my whining … you are very patient people. I adore you all.
And to my loves – Rob, Audrey, Max, and Violet. Everything I do is for you. You are my sunshine.
