“Damn it.” I hopped on one foot. I felt the sting of tears in the corner of my eye.
“You okay in there, Emily?”
Greer appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing home?” I was surprised to see her.
“I got one of the guys to take over my file for the rest of the night. Told him I needed to get home early.”
It was close to seven. I had learned in the few days we had moved in together that Greer rarely made it in before nine.
“Did you wear those heels all day?” She zeroed in on the coffee-stained shoes in my hand.
I dropped on the bed. “God yes. And don’t ask me why I thought it was a good idea.”
“I should have warned you about all the concrete.” I heard a tinge of regret in her voice.
“I’ll be ok in a week,” I added.
She twisted her bottom lip under her teeth. Even with a funny expression on her face she was still pretty. Greer was one of those girls who could leave the house without makeup and her skin always looked flawless. She had bright olive skin and long dark hair.
“I have a way to help you forget about your swollen blistered feet.”
I looked down at them. “They are horrible aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but I want to take you out for drinks.”
“Drinks? As in I have to walk down three flights of stairs?”
She sat next to me. “Yes. But I’ll call an Uber. No metro walking.” Her eyebrows arched.
“I don’t know if I’m up for celebrating. I’m exhausted, and my head is about to explode from all the human resources meetings I had to go to today. I think it’s worse for lawyers. They think we’re all going to sue each other.” I smirked.
“You don’t even want to know what I went through when I was moved to the senate committee. Background checks. Family investigation. Special security clearance. It was insane. I’m surprised I didn’t have to sign away the rights to my first-born.”
“Did you read the fine print?” I joked. “Maybe you did.”
She sighed. “There is nothing funny at the Armed Services Committee. This job drains me.”
“I’m sorry.” I could see the look of exhaustion on her face.
“This is not about me. Come on, get up. If you stay here, we’ll never get out. We have to celebrate your first day at work. Your first few days in D.C. Your new life. All of that stuff.”
I groaned. “Can we celebrate tomorrow when my feet aren’t threatening to disown me?”
“No.” She shoved me. “Since you’ve been here we’ve had pizza one night. Chinese the other and last night I didn’t even make it home to eat, so I have no idea what you had. Sorry. You deserve a proper welcome.” She paused. “Hurry up and change. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re a really pushy roommate. You know that?” I placed one foot on the floor, testing the tenderness.
“You have always loved being my roommate.” She winked.
“Loved is past tense,” I teased her. “We haven’t lived together in five years.”
She shrugged. “Get dressed.”
I still hadn’t unpacked all of my clothes. There were boxes scattered on the floor. I thought about a short blue sundress I wanted to wear, but I wasn’t sure I could find it. I started ripping tape
and rummaging through the stacks.