Chapter 53

Igroaned and rolled over. Was salt the antidote to too much sugar? If so, I needed some.

I forced myself out of bed, collected the evidence of my indulgence, and headed downstairs. The temptation to down the contents of the saltshaker was strong but chips seemed like a better option. I hoped we had some Ruffles tucked away. Ruffles with ranch. That would cure the stomachache. Then I would overeat the chips and find myself looking for something else to counteract that feeling.

Did we have more ice cream?

But I would worry about that later. I tossed the empty carton in the trash and started the hunt for salty foods in the pantry. "Jackpot!"

I found a bag of Ruffles. I unfolded the top, took a chip to sample for staleness, and determined they were edible. Not exactly prime munching, but they would satisfy my craving. I pulled out the bottle of ranch, dumped some on a plate, and took the first bite. It hit the spot.

A knock came from the door, followed by the sound of voices. I hoped I wasn't about to be robbed in a home invasion. That would be the icing on the cake to my shitty day. Rylee was at work, and Karen was out as well, leaving me alone to wallow in my misery. It was what I needed, unless I was about to be murdered. Then being alone wasn't great.

"Mary Ellen?" Lauren called out.

"In the kitchen," I replied, feeling silly about the home-invasion worries.

Lauren and Jameson walked in, and judging by the looks on their faces, they knew I got fired.

Lauren smiled sympathetically. "How are you doing?"

"I finished off a pint of ice cream and made myself sick, so now I'm going to finish off this bag of stale chips and add to the storm in my belly."

She chuckled. "That sounds like a good plan."

Jameson looked confused. "It does?"

Lauren shushed him. "Yes, but I think we have something that will cheer you up."

"If you have a pizza in your purse I will love you forever," I said hopefully.

"Sorry, not pizza, but I think we have something better." Lauren looked at Jameson. Both of them were grinning.

"You're pregnant?" I guessed.

She laughed and shook her head. "Nope."

Jameson stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I bought the big house," he announced, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I blinked in stunned disbelief. "What?"

"We bought the house!" Lauren exclaimed.

"This house?" I asked, my mind struggling to catch up with the words.

"Yes!" Lauren laughed. "This house. The house you live in."

"Bought it? But why?" I asked, confused.

Jameson chuckled at my reaction, shaking his head in amusement. "Why? Because it's your home," he explained, his voice serious. "It's full of memories. I couldn't bear the thought of you guys not being here. Of not being able to have dinners here or sleepovers like the other night. This house is more than just a house. It's your home."

I shook my head. "I can't believe it."

"The owner intended to keep it as a rental property until he couldn't maintain it anymore," Lauren explained. "Jameson offered him well over what it was worth to ensure the sale went smoothly. The closing documents are already signed. You girls don't have to spend another second worrying about having to move. You have a home. It's one thing off your plate."

My reaction was not what they expected. It wasn't what I expected.

Instead of exclamations of gratitude, tears welled up in my eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. I shook my head, unable to speak.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "It's just… it's been a lot to process, and this? This is too much."

Lauren and Jameson exchanged a worried glance.

"Don't cry," Lauren said.

They had meant well, of course, but their gesture only served to remind me of everything I had lost—my job, my sense of security, and Archer.

"Should I do something?" Jameson asked. "Do you want some water?"

I shook my head. My vision was blurred by tears. Lauren stepped up and put her arm around me. "Hey, it's okay. This is a good thing. You have a home."

Gratitude mixed with a tinge of guilt overwhelmed me. Their kindness was touching, their gesture generous.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "That was so thoughtful and kind of you. I'm really grateful. I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm sad, but not because you bought the house."

I struggled to compose myself, hating that I was such a mess. I felt like I was falling apart at the seams.

"I know," Lauren said. "Losing your job sucks."

"I thought I'd be at the library until I was old and gray, you know? I had hopes and dreams of inspiring the younger generations, of encouraging them to fall in love with reading. And now? Now I don't know what to do."

"At least you don't have to worry about covering your rent," Jameson said with a sheepish smile. "I'm a pretty chill landlord."

Lauren shot him a sharp look and shoved him playfully. "Jameson, be serious," she scolded.

He grinned apologetically before turning his attention back to me. "There are other libraries," he offered, his voice filled with reassurance.

I choked out another sob. I knew he was trying, but he sucked at being comforting.

Lauren cut him off with a shake of her head, her expression pained. "This was her library," she said softly.

I nodded in agreement. A lump formed in my throat at her words. "My library was special. It was small and I loved my regulars. It's different than the other libraries in the city. I don't want to be in one of the big libraries with the high ceilings and no character. It won't be the same. I don't want to start over somewhere new."

Lauren hugged me tighter. "You don't have to decide anything right now," she said soothingly. "Let's just take it one step at a time. You don't have to worry about rent. Just focus on finding a job that makes you happy."

"I can't believe I have to look for a job," I groaned. "I really thought I was going to work at the library until I was a little old lady with gray hair in a bun and glasses hanging on the tip of my nose."

Jameson cleared his throat. "Who says you can't still become that little old lady with gray hair and glasses? You know, you could wear the bun as a fashion statement. Maybe dye your hair gray."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood. "I suppose I could start a trend," I teased back.

Lauren rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh great, now we're going to see hipsters sporting librarian chic everywhere."

It felt good to smile, to forget about my worries even if just for a moment. But it was short lived. Fresh tears welled up once again. "I can't believe he fired me. I was trying to help him. To help everyone that uses that library. I'm devastated."

"We know," Jameson said gently. "But you're strong, Mary Ellen. You'll figure it out. And until you do, you have us. We'll help you through this."

I wiped away the tears from my cheeks and mustered a faint smile. "Thank you," I said softly. "I don't know what I would do without my friends."

Lauren squeezed my shoulder gently. "You don't have to figure anything out alone."

"We've got your back," Jameson said.

The doorbell rang, interrupting our little kumbaya moment. "Great," I groaned. "I'm probably getting my car repoed or they're going to condemn the house."

"Stop," Lauren scolded. "Don't be such a Debbie Downer. It's not all bad."

"I'll get it," Jameson said, looking just a little too happy to escape the kitchen.

"Thank you, Lauren," I said softly. "I'll be okay."

Lauren reached out and squeezed my hand. "I know, Mary Ellen," she said gently. "But you're strong, and you'll get through this. And remember, we're here for you every step of the way. And don't worry about that woman. I'm sure whatever happened between her and Archer is in the past. You can't hold her against him. We've all made mistakes in choosing the wrong person to date in the past."

"I know," I sighed. "I wasn't mad at him, but it just resurrected all my insecurities. I look at her and then me and I know I don't measure up."

"I doubt he thinks that at all." Lauren got a strange look on her face. "Oh."

"What's wrong now?" I asked and turned around.

Archer was standing there with Jameson. Horror struck me. I couldn't imagine what I looked like. Puffy eyes. My shirt with a smattering of ice-cream drippings. The little makeup I put on this morning was probably smeared all over my face. I supposed I should be happy he hadn't shown up twenty minutes ago when I was shoveling stale chips into my mouth at record-breaking speed. I would have eaten it out of a pig trough if I had to.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, unable to mask the surprise in my voice.

Archer stepped forward. "I had to see if you were okay. Can we talk?"

Lauren gave me a gentle nudge. "We'll go. I'll call you later to check on you."

She gave me a hug. Jameson nodded at Archer and they left.

"We can go upstairs," I said quietly.

Karen would be home soon. I didn't know what this conversation was going to entail, but I was certain I wanted privacy. I left the chips and plate of ranch dressing on the counter and led him upstairs. I managed to keep myself together, but once inside the sanctuary of my room, my self-control evaporated.

"Mary Ellen," he started.

Not wanting words, I walked toward him. As if sensing what I needed, he opened his arms and welcomed me. Without a word, I collapsed in his embrace, seeking comfort in his strength. He held me tight.

We stood in silence for a long time. He said nothing but his hand gently rubbed my back as I let out all the pent-up emotions that had been suffocating me. It felt like a release, a catharsis in his arms. Eventually, my sobs subsided and I pulled back slightly to look up at him. His eyes were filled with concern and a hint of regret.

"Mary Ellen, I never wanted you to feel this way. I should have been more transparent with you."

"Give me a second," I said. "I'm a mess. We'll talk, but I can't do it with snot hanging out of my nose."

Archer chuckled softly. "Understood."

I walked to the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. My reflection made me grimace. I splashed some water on my face, trying to compose myself. Once I felt a little more presentable, I took a deep breath and returned to my room where Archer was waiting. He looked at me with a mix of concern and determination. I sat down on the edge of the bed and gestured for him to do the same.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I wasn't sure how to answer that. I was, but I wasn't. In that moment, I just felt like a total disaster.