Closets Are for Clothes by Addison Albright

Author:Addison Albright [Albright, Addison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9: Closets Are for Clothes

Muted voices sifted through my sleep-clouded head, and I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the bright light filtering through the curtains. After multiple washings, and without any blinds behind them, they weren’t particularly good at blocking the morning sun.

Speaking of which, that sun appeared rather high in the sky. I groaned and rolled to check the time on my phone, then muttered, “Crap,” because I’d wanted an earlier start so things wouldn’t be rushed this morning. Extended family wouldn’t descend until mid-to-late-afternoon, but who knew how much time might be needed for Mom or Dad to recover their equilibrium after my big reveal.

I laid a forearm across my eyes. “Get up,” I mumbled. “Suck it up and get this over with.”

I sighed, sat, and rubbed a hand over my face. Finally, I stood and rummaged through my bag, then headed to the bathroom with clean clothes in hand. In no time at all, I was showered and physically—if not mentally—ready to face the day.

No one was in the living room as I slogged down the stairs. Mom had redecorated that space shortly before I’d moved out. I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten my own personal sense of style, but I did know it hadn’t been from her. No doubt this space would be a real estate agent’s wet dream with all the neutral shades, but if I weren’t hampered by the limitations of apartment-rental living, my walls sure as hell wouldn’t be painted whatever this was. Light mud?

The furniture also ran the gamut of neutral tones. It was new and trendy stuff—certainly all better quality than mine—but the style was so not me. But what about Wes? If he were furnishing his own place, would it more closely resemble this or our apartment?

Greg must’ve heard me coming down since he stepped out of the kitchen to meet me. “Hey.” He looked over his shoulder and kept his voice low. “You okay, man? I heard you getting sick last night.”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” Not anywhere near as bad as last night, anyway. The fluttering had returned, but it felt as much like a stomach protesting its emptiness as it did nerves run amok. “I just let the stress get to me last night.”

“I don’t want to see you making yourself sick over this. Seriously, I’ve got this if you want to take a back seat, or even if you’ve changed your mind and want to let me handle it after you leave.”

I shook my head. “I just need to get it over with.”

“Okay.” He patted my shoulder and cocked his head toward the kitchen. “Helen’s here. You ready to go in?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” At least that was the truth.

In the kitchen, Helen stepped away from whatever she’d been chopping at the counter to give me a hug. “I heard you were sick. Are you better now?”

“Yeah.” I cast a quick glance at Mom and Dad. “Must’ve been that airport food. I’m okay.

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