Free Let Me Hold You by Melanie Schuster Page A

he loves you, he’s not gonna be able to make love to you in a shrine and that’s what your bedroom is. You can’t blame him for losing the urge to merge, honey. Once he saw that elaborate tribute to your late husband, he got out of the mood when he realized that you’re still in love with Sam.”
    Alana immediately got defensive. “I can have anything I want in my bedroom,” she snapped. “And of course I still love Sam. He was my husband, my life! Am I just supposed to stop loving him because some low-down bastard killed him?”
    Tollie’s face softened. “Honey baby, of course you still love him. You’ll always have love for him. But to still be in love with him is something else. That means there’s no room for someone else in your heart or in your life and from what I’ve seen of Roland, he’s not one to share. That man has real feelings for you, Alana. He wants you to share your life with him and that’s going to mean giving up the life you had with Sam. It’s time for you to start living on your own.”
    Alana looked stunned at her friend’s words. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since the minute I woke up and was told my husband was dead and I’d lost our baby,” she said bitterly.
    “You’ve been living, but it’s not your life, not completely. The only reason you moved into your house was because that management company sold your apartment complex and turned it into a senior living facility. If it wasn’t for that you’d still be living there with everything in place the way it was when you lived with Sam.
    “Custom Classics is a very nice business and you’ve done very well with it, but it wasn’t your chosen career. You had a totally different career mapped out for yourself and you abandoned it completely after Sam died. You can’t tell me that the way you’re living would make Sam happy. He’d want you to move on and be happy and fulfilled. I believe that from the bottom of my heart, I really do. I want you to be happy, too. And I also believe that Roland can make you happy. That is if you let him.”
    “I doubt that I’ll be seeing him again, at least not on a personal basis.”
    “You haven’t heard from him at all? I find that hard to believe.”
    “I haven’t talked to him; I didn’t say that he hadn’t called me. I just haven’t called him back or taken his calls. He even sent me tulips,” she admitted.
    “How long has it been since you had actual face time with him? The three days since the party, right? Those are the three days you haven’t slept—what a coincidence. I think you’ve made him suffer enough, Alana. And you’ve certainly suffered enough—it’s all over your face. Talk to him, go out with him, and let him hug you and hold you and make you feel better like a man is supposed to. You’ll be surprised at how much better you’ll feel when you do,” Tollie said wisely.
    “Tolerance, I’m just fine,” Alana protested. “There’s nothing wrong with me or the way I live my life.”
    “If there was nothing wrong, you’d be able to sleep at night. Have you ever thought about getting counseling for your depression?”
    “My what? I’m not depressed; I’m always in a good mood. Do you see me dragging around town looked run-down and ratty? No, you don’t,” Alana said indignantly.
    “There are all kinds of ways depression can manifest itself. It’s different for different people. And it’s not an indictment of you or your mental state, it’s a physiological thing. A chemical imbalance,” Tollie said with authority. “Did you know that lots of African-American women suffer from it? And won’t get counseling, either. There are two things most folks will not own up to—we ain’t fat, and we ain’t crazy. And because we’re in denial about these things, we don’t get help with them and we stress ourselves out needlessly. I’m not equating depressed to crazy, but you know what I mean.
    “Now, me, I’m fat and I admit it. I’m