Free When Girlfriends Break Hearts by Savannah Page Page B

With that, Claire gave me a warm hug and left me to drift into my nap.  
    I laid there on my side for awhile, hugging the warm blankets to my chin. What would my next move be? How does a girl pick up her feet and deal with something like this? In the midst of trying to figure out why my best friend could deceive me, Brandon’s face began to appear in my mind. The memories of his musky scent, endearing smile, and seductive eyes all washed over me and I wept. I wept over my losses, yet despite the burning in my heart and stomach, I actually began to miss both of the people who had sent me into this world of pain. A girl can’t easily let go of a dear friendship of seven years, nor a serious relationship of three years with the man she thought she would some day call her husband. What was I to do?
    Finally, I was given a bout of relief as sleep overcame me.

Chapter Nine
     
    “What time is it?” I mumbled to myself as I awoke from my nap, searching for my iPhone that I used for next-to-everything, my alarm clock included. It was nowhere to be found. Ugh, it’s in my purse up front. I dragged myself out of my messy bed. Judging by the light outside, it was past lunch. My rumbling stomach confirmed it.
    I sauntered into the kitchen, surprised to find a completely empty house. No Conner. No Claire. And no Schnickerdoodle. Only a note in Claire’s handwriting on the dining table. Hey, girl. We went to take Schnickerdoodle for a walk in the park. Plan on being gone awhile—give you some time to be alone. Back before dinnertime. Think we should order something? Your pick. XO Claire
    I didn’t feel like doing or eating anything. I was hungry, but nothing sounded appetizing. I felt bored, but I didn’t feel like watching television or reading a book or even flipping mindlessly through my Facebook or Twitter feeds. The sun was still shining, and we had another unseasonably warm day before us, but I couldn’t care less. Everything looked so much more dismal. My life was out of control and, shock to me, I didn’t feel like trying to grab at the reins to steer it straight. I didn’t want to sleep any more, and it was probably a good idea I didn’t get any more shuteye as I’d end up awake all night long, only to be drop dead exhausted for work the next day. Oh, work. I don’t want to go.
    Normally I loved work. Yes, there were some rough days—some days when I just couldn’t get my recipe down pat or the cake decorating wasn’t running as smoothly as I would have liked. But for the most part I loved my job. It was my passion. And even though I had studied History in college, I knew that my future career would not involve teaching or writing about Napoleon, King George, Martin Luther, and all the classics. Instead, it would be filled with great tasting foods, perfectly presented sweets, and aromatic coffees. Yet heading to work after a weekend like this was not appealing, no matter how much cream cheese frosting I would get to taste.
    So I finally decided that it was time to connect with one of my best friends, Emily. Emily was the one who was always somewhere exotic and doing something fantastic. Unlike the rest of us west-side girls, she came from the east coast: Boston. Forever having a passion to get out, travel, and see the world, Emily decided that she’d attend college clear across the country. And she didn’t stop there. She studied abroad two different semesters and two summers when we were in school. She had a travel bug that could never be cured. She was adventurous, free-spirited, fun-loving, and one of the most open-minded, and caring, and fun people I knew.
    I loved Emily, but the trouble was that she was always off on some other continent, volunteering, gaining some skill, practicing a trade, teaching English, or learning a knew language, and always photographing. Emily had a brilliant knack for the camera and her love for her hobby of photography showed in each and every photo. Whenever she arrived home,