"Here we are, sweety. Hold still."

I grit my teeth and wait for the inevitable sting as Sulli swabs the cotton ball along my palm. The antiseptic makes me squeeze my eyes shut while she carefully cleans the four-inch gash that had opened from just below my left thumb to the middle of my palm.

"How's that?" she asks, securing a large Band-Aid over the cut.

Giving her a weak smile, I rub my right thumb over the bandage and flex my fingers. "It's good. Thank you, Sulli."

"Aye, so now we work on healing your other wound. I'm afraid that will take much more than a bandage. What happened, mon chou?" She slides a mug across the table towards me.

I bite down on my lip to keep it from quivering. Anger and humiliation churn in my stomach. I pick up the mug and slowly sip the tea, keeping my eyes lowered.

"I heard the yelling, Yuri," she probes gently. "But if you dont want to talk about it..."

I sigh heavily and cut my eyes to her apartment door. It's been at least five minutes since I stormed out of my own apartment across the hall. I look into Sulli's eyes and take a deep breath, deciding I might as well start at the beginning.

"I was let go this afternoon. The CEO decided that his niece would be a better accountant than me, so..." The chaos of the past ninety minutes still hasn't sunk in. It was already a shitty enough day being fired. I take a breath.

"So...I cleaned out my desk and I came home. And I guess they weren't expecting me," I finish bitterly, the scene replaying in my mind as I give Sulli the sordid details: The "oh shit" look on both their faces. Jackson scrambling for his clothes. My roommate covering herself with a throw pillow that was comically too small to cover her boobs. His frantic pleas of, It's not what it looks like. Let me explain. Don't leave, Yuri. I knew he was serious when he used my real name. I didn't even stick around long enough to ask them why the hell neither one of them was at work. Jackson had told me he had a business lunch when I texted him earlier in the morning. I hadn't called him with my bad news, not wanting to bother him while he was with clients—or so I thought.

"Oh, non c'est terrible," Sulli murmurs, reaching for my injured hand.

I heave a sigh of frustration. "It's just such a fucking cliché!"

Sulli's eyes round. I don't think in the course of the year since I moved into my apartment and befriended my sweet elderly neighbor that I have ever cursed in front of her. Our conversations are generally limited to harmless things, like the historical romance novels she likes to force on me or if she needs anything from the pharmacy when I make a CVS run.

She gestures to my hand. "So how did that happen? Did he hurt you?" Her voice holds more venom than I've ever heard before.

"Nah, he was too busy putting on his pants. This—" I gesture to my wounded hand, "this was because I threw a vase at him. That I regret...Not because I missed, but because..." I close my eyes at the first prick of tears behind my eyes and start again. "Because I didn't think and it was the first thing I grabbed and she...she had made it for me, Sulli." And then the dam bursts and my tears fall freely.

"Oh Yuri!" She comes to stand beside me and urges me to my feet, wrapping her frail arms around me.

"What does it say about me," I whisper, after she's held me and let me cry for a while, "that I'm more upset about a broken vase than I am about Jackson?"

The vase wasn't expensive. It wasn't particularly pretty. But it had sentimental value that can never be replaced. It had been the last birthday gift my sister had given me, thrown by her during an art class and hand-painted in varying hues of blue, with daisies scattered across the surface. There was also an inscription on the bottom in my little sister's meticulous cursive: Semper Tuens et Servans. She had held a fanciful obsession with Latin since fifth grade, and she had proudly translated the phrase for me as "always protecting, watching over."

Sulli takes my hand and leads me to the couch. She keeps my hand sandwiched between hers as we sit, and she fixes those enchanting brown eyes on me.

"I'd say we'll find a way to put that vase back together. And if I may be so bold to say so, I think you're better off without that guy. By the time he realizes what a good thing he fucked up, you'll be on to bigger and better things."

"Sulli!" I exclaim, unable to suppress my shock at hearing her swear.

"It's true." Her voice softens. "You know what I think, Yuri? I think that ye might no see it now, but this is a very good thing. Jackson wasn't a good match for you. He was safe."

I wrinkle my nose and take another sip of my tea. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that he was there for ye after everything that happened. He was familiar, he was comforting, and he offered you a sense of family that you had lost. You were close to him, so you didin't need to let him in. He was already there."

I swallow hard, forcing down the lump that's crowding my throat. There's a part of me that suspects she's right. Jackson had pursued me for years and I had never been willing to cross the threshold from friends to something more—not until the days after the car accident that shattered my world, claiming the lives of my mother and my sister two years to the day after my father had suffered a massive fatal heart attack. And even after he and I started dating, I had felt a profound sense that something was missing.

Sulli hands squeeze mine. "I have an idea. You need a holiday."

"A holiday?" I ask dubiously, arching a brow at her.

"A vacation?"

I sigh. "It's a nice thought, but I'm gonna have to start looking for a new job, and a new apartment because if that bitch thinks I'll ever live with her again—" Sulli raises one hand and silences me.

"You've got all that insurance money banked, mon chou. I see the way you live—no splurges, no indulgences. You'll be okay without a job for a little bit. I've got a lovely cottage in Kaysersberg that's sitting empty. Get yourself an airline ticket and go spend some time for yourself. See the sights. Have a fling or two."

"Sulli!" Her suggestion raises a blush on my cheeks.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "It worked for me when I was your age."

Then her countenance grows more solemn. "You've not really had the chance to be young, Yuri. Too much responsibility much too soon. And too much loss. You deserve some time to yourself. You won't regret it. And the real world will be here when you get back."

I purse my lips thoughtfully and look back towards the door. It does sound tempting—leaving all the bullshit behind and escaping for a little while.

"I don't have a passport," I argue weakly.

Sulli snorts softly. "Please, sweety. That's the least of your worries. Just say d'accord!."

Her face is so hopeful that I can't foster one more decent excuse.

"D'accord," I echo.

She grins, pats my hand, and says with a wink, "I'll go find the keys."