69- Raeanne

The days felt like they were dragging by. Like the kind of dragging weighed down by heartbreak and disappointment, by uncertainty and a little bit of self-loathing thrown in for good measure. The glass on the front of the studio hadn’t been fixed. I’d spoken to three glass shops and the landlord of the building, and evidently there was some kind of glass shortage in Solano Creek.

“All those wine bottles we make here,” the landlord surmised.

“I doubt that’s it,” I told him, pacing my apartment again. I could see a faint track worn into the brown rug where I’d been pacing regularly for days. Soon I’d probably go right through the floor. I needed to dance. I needed my life back.

And I didn’t know if I needed him, but I really wanted Dalton. But my pride was still up and every time I picked up the phone I ended up talking myself back into anger. He didn’t understand me. And if this had been bad, it would only get worse if we dragged this thing out.

Or that’s what I’d been telling myself r