“It’s… not that simple.”
“Honey!” Michael yelled again, this time a losing patience, his anger rising.
“I’ll be right there!” Amy yelled back. This was moving too quickly, too frantically.
“It can be simple,” Cicely said. “You don’t have to be with him forever.”
Amy heard a loud rumble, then angry stomps down the hallway. In one panicked motion, she clicked everything away – the computer screen, the phone conversation. But before hanging up on Cicely, she gave a hushed, “Goodnight, Cicely.”
Then he was there, standing at the doorway, face cold, arms imposingly folded. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I… couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing you’d want to hear about. Just girls stuff.”
She folded into his arms, launching into another performance. The tears came easie
