I was miserable.
It was hard work, getting over Matthew Bloomberg. But at least being at home gave me time and space to do it. Endless amounts of both. I slept a lot, read every romance novels in the house in mad, weepy binges, and wandered the hills and shore in a fashion that would surely have made my Byronic locks and long black coat billow in the wind.
If I’d had Byronic locks and a long black coat.
And mom just let me come and go as I pleased. Talk when I felt like it.
The days moved very slowly.
It must have been a week later, I was sitting in the garden, on the swing. And it was the best spot because you could see all the way down to the sea. And if you went high enough and fast enough, it felt like you could drown in the sky. I’d probably spent hours out here when I was growin
