The Shoe Diaries by Darby Baham

Author:Darby Baham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-10-28T21:49:50+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Alexa, play Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next album on shuffle.”

I took one huge gulp from my wineglass and breathed in deeply, preparing myself as I waited for the music to begin. To say it had been an excruciating past eighteen hours would be putting it lightly. After being embarrassed in front of my family, I then had to endure the next several hours of questions and attempts of people being comforting that just fell flat every time. There was nothing they could say to me that would make me feel better, because it was my fault for thinking that things would be different with Luke than with any other man in my life. Jake left me. Matthew cheated on me. Countless other guys either ghosted, bread crumbed, or laughed at me falling off a damn bed.

All I really wanted was to get back here, back to my apartment, so I could kick off the combat boots I wore on the plane, blast my music, sing and dance and scream around my place until I was worn out and then go to sleep.

As the intro to “In My Head” began playing, I took another swig of wine before helping Ariana belt out the tragic tale of a woman who fell in love with someone who was only amazing in her dreams. Instinctively, my arms began to sway and feet started to move on beat. It wasn’t long before I’d danced my way into my closet, my safe haven when things got really hard to handle. Everyone always teased me about how much I loved my shoe closet, but nothing in there had ever disappointed me. I could put on a pair of any of the shoes surrounding me, and they would instantly make me feel better, help me stand taller, remind me who I was and to never let the pain sit too long before I sucked it up and moved on.

The only problem was in my closet was also my shoe diary, and inside my diary was that damn risk list. The song changed, and I twirled around in my closet for the first verse, letting the music speak to my soul, closing my eyes and taking it all in. I was done, I thought to myself. Done with the risks, done with the men, done with it all, because each time it didn’t work out, it was too painful, too heartbreaking and too devastating. And I was tired of encouraging myself to get back up just to get hurt again.

I picked up my diary and stared at the list I’d written four months before in my blue pen because I’d had some sense of hope that day, even despite the doubts I had. There was no hope anymore. Just frustration and finally, resolve. I tore the page out of the diary, crumpled it up and leaned out of my closet so I could throw it into the trash can in my room. If I’d learned anything from the

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