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The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. I stretched out my arm to the empty spot beside me in the bed and sighed, disappointed that Orlando wasn’t there, then got up and went downstairs.

“Good morning, love,” Orlando said as I went into the kitchen. Aunt Tess was sitting at the counter, a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. Orlando handed her a cup of coffee as I sat down beside her. He slid a plate of eggs to me, with some toast.

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A few hours later, after lots of food and laughs, I said good-bye to the last guest and disposed of the last bit of garbage, then headed upstairs. All I wanted was a bath and a good night’s sleep, but I doubted that would happen. Orlando was waiting for me when I got to my room.

“Now was that so bad?” I couldn’t help but say as I began unbuttoning my sundress. He was sitting on the bed, watching me, his face unreadable.

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I didn’t talk to Orlando again for at least a month after our conversation that night. I went back to work, and really had to put everything I had into the show, just to keep from collapsing. Sleep was still sporadic for me, and I still cried far to easily, but it got easier as each day passed.

When the landlord of the apartment building Orlando and I were supposed to be moving into called me a couple of weeks after our phone call, I wasn’t exactly sure what to tell him. He wanted to know when we’d be moving in, and since I didn’t know the terms of the lease, or what the penalty would be for not standing by it, I just said I’d have Orlando call him as soon as possible. Then I spent the next two days in a fog so thick, I’m not even sure I went to work. The idea that our wonderful apartment was empty, and that we’d never get to live in it, was almost more than I could take, but I managed to get myself through it.

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Another month went by much the same as the last had, and it all seemed to be a blur. We were heading into September already, and it would soon be a year since Orlando and I had spent our first two weeks together. It seemed hard to believe that so little time had passed, and yet it felt like it had been so long.

I didn’t hear from Orlando at all, not that I’d expected to. I forced myself to let him go, to stop obsessing about him, to get on with my life. I slept with his sweater under my pillow every night, and some nights I cried myself to sleep. The pain never seemed to change, it was always the same raw feeling that made me curl in on myself and squeeze my eyes closed against it.

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By the time we pulled up in front of the apartment building after dropping Adam at his place, and made our way past the few lingering photographers to get inside. I hurried up the stairs to change out of the white peasant skirt and tight green blouse I’d been wearing. I wanted to be more comfortable and less dressed up. I threw on an old pair of jeans, and, for some reason I can’t explain, Orlando’s green sweater over top of a white t-shirt. I dabbed some perfume on my neck and wrists, touched up my make up, pulled my hair into a ponytail high on my head, and went back into the living room.

“That’s a bad idea,” Lisa said as soon as she saw me. “Do you really want to be wearing his sweater when you go with him? Isn’t that just giving him the wrong idea?”

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I went home later that day to shower and get ready to go to work. I felt light and free, and there was a spring in my step as I walked up the back stairs to my apartment. I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I unlocked the door and went inside.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to make an appearance,” Lisa teased as I threw my purse and keys on the coffee table. “Do I dare ask where you were all night?” The dirty grin on her face said she knew exactly where I’d been and what I’d been doing.

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When I awoke, I wasn’t in my room anymore. It took me a minute to realize I was laying in a hospital bed, with an IV in my arm. There were bandages all over my arms, and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I tried to sit up, but my body protested, and I laid back against the pillows. Lisa was sleeping in a chair beside the bed. I reached over and shook her leg gently.

“You’re awake,” she said, giving me a sleepy smile. “You had me worried, you jerk.”

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“I’ll just, um, go somewhere,” Lisa said when Orlando poked his head around the door. “I’ll be back later.” She hurried from the room.

“Hey,” Orlando said softly, not moving from the doorway. He was wearing black dress pants, and a navy blue sweater with a white button-down shirt poking out the top, and black dress shoes. He had a pair of sunglasses on his head, and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

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Dr. Cuthbert came to see me while I was eating breakfast the next morning. He did a final check on my stitches, asked me a few questions, then said I was ready to go home.

Orlando arrived shortly after Dr. Cuthbert had left. He helped me get dressed, gathered up all of my things, and wheeled me to the waiting car in front of the hospital. He helped me in, and we went home.

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The next few days weren’t as bad as I’d thought they’d be. Orlando didn’t call, but then, I didn’t expect he would. I knew he’d be furious at what I’d left on his answering machine, but I didn’t care. I tried to push it from my mind and focus on my work and my friends.

About two weeks after I’d last talked to Orlando, Nick called me into his office at the theatre. We’d just finished a matinee performance, and I’d been looking forward to going home and relaxing before the evening show, but that thought went out the window when I saw the look on his face. I finished putting my wet hair into a bun on the back of my head, and followed him upstairs.

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