And it will remain our secret…unless I fucking die and it makes it to the news: “Local Idiot Bikes into Traffic Amidst Affair Scandal”.
Dark thought, Sydney.
Through sheer luck, I manage to make it home in one piece, with all three bottles of wine stuffed into my bag intact. Necessary provisions to get me through tonight, to help me mourn everything I lost in just a few short hours.
My chest and stomach hurt from crying. My hand hurts from the shattered mirror I had to clean off my bathroom floor. Something deep inside me feels like it was broken tonight.
I don’t bother with a wine glass. I plop down on my couch, open a bottle, and swallow as much as I can straight from the source. Alcohol isn’t going to solve anything, but at least it will dull the pain. And right now, all I want is for the pain to stop. I need something to deaden it, even a little.
It’s funny, but before tonight, I never really believed those stories about people dying from a broken heart. It’s unrealistic, right? And so ridiculously melodramatic to think that emotions could cause actual physical pain. People just like to exaggerate what they feel to make their love seemmorethan everyone else’s. I used to roll my eyes at that sort of thing—too sentimental, too trite. Just an excuse for people to dress up their pain as something poetic.
But here I am, lifting the neck of an almost-empty bottle to my lips, feeling like I could die from this. Like this pain could actually kill me.
Breaking up with Chase felt like my heart had been broken, like it had shattered into hundreds of pieces. But this? Losing them? It feels like a gunshot, straight to the chest. And the wound gets bigger as I relive the night, over and overand overagain.
Alec is married.
Alec has been lying to me, this entire time.
They’veallbeen lying to me since the day I met them.
Another sip, that’ll do the trick.
I take another long drink from my wine bottle to wash it all away. I’m reaching up to wipe the tears from my eyes with my sleeve before I remember I’m still wearing Alec’s shirt. After Earl dropped me off, I threw on the first pair of pants I’d found, cleaned up the mess of broken mirror I’d left on the bathroomfloor, finished off every drop of wine I’d had in my apartment, and left to get more.
I hadn’t bothered changing my shirt.
It smells like him. And I hate that I love his smell. That it soothes me, even now, after everything he did to me.
I’m a fool for falling for these men when I didn’t even really know them. How could I have been this stupid? After all the bullshit Chase fed me over the years, after all the healing I did after our breakup, I still ate up every single lie Alec told me like I was starving, ravenous for crumbs of his affection. How humiliating.
Only this time around, it’s even worse. Because now I’m the other woman.
I’m the homewrecker.
Andtheregoes the bottle. I shake the last drop out onto my tongue before reaching for the next one. On the table next to my provisions of wine, my phone lights up with notification after notification.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Ashton: Hey, are you okay?
Ashton: Doc told us what happened. I need to know you’re doing alright Babygirl. Talk to me.
Ashton: Pick up or I’m coming over.
I try to ignore him, but my phone starts ringing, Ashton’s name flashing on the screen. It must be the tenth time he’s called since I got home.
I stare at my phone and wonder what Alec told him. I wonder how Ash is going to try to defend him, explain away all their lies.
The next time he rings, I answer.
“Sydney?” Ashton asks through the phone. His voice is a balm and a toxin all at once, and I hate that just hearing his voice makes my heart skip a beat, makes me want him. “Oh, thank God you picked up! Listen, I know what happened with Sebastian and?—”
I hang up the phone.
