Chapter Thirteen
Staring in the mirror the next morning, my puffy eyes and red nose attested to my sleepless night. I stood in the hot shower a long time letting the steam and water wash away the harsh reality of Clint’s words and my decision to walk away from the love of my life.
I thought of Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind, “ I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it. And when Ashley came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not. And I wouldn’t see what he really was. I kept on loving the pretty clothes—and not him at all,” I quoted as I patted concealer to hide my dark circles.
I pulled a black turtleneck over my head and slipped on a pair of black slacks. My outfit matched my dark mood.
