Page 11 of Returned Mail

I smile, but it quickly disappears. “I just want my life back.”

Truth is, I don’t want a new life or a better one. I want my life. The one I had a week ago. Lyann doesn't answer immediately. I stare at the dark television screen across from us.

“I don't want to start over,” I whisper. “I don't want to date. I don't want to download apps. I don't want to meet someone new and explain my childhood, my favorite food, and why I hate driving in the rain. I don't want any of it.” My voice cracks. “I just want my life back.”

Lyann reaches over and takes my hand. “I know, babe.”

“This was supposed to be my home.”

Her thumb moves slowly across my knuckles. “It still can be.”

I look around. At the couch where Sebastian and I watched hundreds of movies. The kitchen where we cooked dinner together. The framed photos on the walls. His jacket still hanging over the chair. My chest tightens. “No,” I say quietly. Lyann follows my gaze. I don't know if she sees the apartment or what it has become. A museum. A crime scene. A life interrupted halfway through. “I can't stay here,” I whisper.

The realization scares me the second I say it.

Lyann sits up slightly. “You don't have to decide that tonight.”

“I have eight months left on the lease, but I can't afford this place by myself.” There it is, the practical truth beneath all the emotional bullshit. This apartment was built around two incomes. Two people. Two lives. Without Sebastian, the rent isn't just painful. It's impossible.

Lyann's face changes. “You never told me that.”

“I haven't exactly been doing a lot of financial planning this week.”

“Mia.”

“I know.”

She squeezes my hand. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then she says, carefully, “You could sublease.”

I stare at her. “What?”

“The apartment. You once said your building allows it, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You could sublease for the remaining months.”

“And go where?”

She shrugs. “Somewhere cheaper.”

I laugh once, but it sounds empty. “Great. Perfect. Love that for me. Boyfriend cheats, relationship ends, can't afford an apartment. Really strong year.”

“Mia.”

“No, seriously. Maybe next week I'll get fired. Keep the momentum going.”

“Stop.”

I lean my head back against the couch. Lyann watches me for a moment. Then she says, “What if you left the city?”

I turn toward her. “What?”

“Not far.”

“No.”

“You didn't even let me finish.”