So is he really even my boyfriend now?
I would think so after the way he claimed my body the other night.
Men are different, though. They can have sex with a woman, and it does not mean a thing.
I know that.
Logically.
Emotionally, I want to die.
“Hello,” I say with as much of a mellow tone as I can manage.
“Lucy girl, it’s Grandma Netty. What are your dinner plans?”
I chuckle at her introduction despite my sour mood. She forgets caller ID is a thing now, and just hearing her voice brings a small light into the cave of darkness. “I was just going to heat up leftovers at the apartment and write. Why?” It’s a lie. I was most likely going to obsessively watch my phone and attempt to distract myself with writing all the while starving myself because I’m way too anxious to eat.
“Take yourself a break and come have dinner with me, will ya? I’m lonely and I miss my grandgirl.”
Beats anxiously sulking around my apartment. I can go anxiously pretend that I’m not actually anxious and shovel down a good meal at Grandma’s.
“Of course. Thanks for the invite. What time should I be over?”
She gives me the details and then we click off the phone. The rest of the work day passes torturously slow. I check my phone every few seconds, so much so that it’s become habitual.
He never texts.
And I pray it’s because he’s dead. Because if he’s not…
He’ll wish he was when I’m through with him.
If I’ve learned one thing in the past—through being used by men for their sexual gratification—it’s that I won’t let the same mistake happen twice with the same man. Stone doesn’t get to touch me anymore if he can’t commit to me. If he can’t tell me he loves me.
No matter how desperately I crave his hands all over me…
Thank goodness he isn’t at work today to see what a mess I am.
With a newfound determination, I set to work applying the finishing touches to the Halloween Bash happening next week, checking the list of volunteers, and doing some other administration work.
Mind. Numbing. Business.
Which is disastrous because my newfound determination wavers as quickly as it settled in with all of the excessive thinking time.
What if he’s cheating on me right now?
Then you walk away.
What if he tells me he doesn’t love me like I love him?
Then you walk away.
What if he continuously ghosts me?
Then you walk away.
What if…
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lucy! Walk away and write a freaking book about it to get all your pain out, okay?!
