It’s the longest weekend of my life, and the most miserable one, too. Maggie and I talk a little bit more, clear the air, and decide things are better this way. I’m not sure she truly believes that, but she will one day. When she meets someone who treats her right.
When Monday morning comes, I can’t get to work fast enough, and my day drags until it’s time for Alex to come in.
Only, he never does. He doesn’t show.
People don’t no call, no show at Sharks. But Alex Brewer did.
I’m so furious over it that I have to go home “sick.”
I walk into my empty house, and as I look around the kitchen, and at all the things he’s updated, it hits me all at once. The giant vine-like chandelier casts its bright light on everything he’s touched. The shimmering black countertop. The red cabinets. I look at the floor and the stain is still there, a big blob of red paint dried on the wooden floorboards from where the brush fell when I kissed him.
The curtains are all open, and the hazy afternoon light pours in and everything is so bright and so fucking beautiful.
Just like him.
I fall against the wall, slide down it until I hit the floor, and sob because my life is a fucking mess, I’m alone, and I’m the only one to blame for it.
Chapter Forty-Six
Alex
The incessant melody of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere” echoes in my room, and I bury my face in my pillow. He keeps calling, but he hasn’t left a message. The last text he sent was the one telling me he was taking his girlfriend home and we’d talk when he got home.
I stare at the bottle of painkillers on my nightstand, wondering if I should take one. Maybe it would knock me out and I won’t think about him.
I know that’s a lie. Even in my dreams, I’ll see him.
In my nightmares I’ll see him. Everywhere I’ll see him.
Because Ilovehim.
I have never loved anyone the way I love him.
I waited all night for him to come home. I sat there, my heart in my throat, hoping.
Fuck hope. Fuck it all to hell.
Every hour that passed was worse than the last. It reminded me of all the times Vance left me waiting.
It was two am before I realized he was never coming home. It was two-thirty am when I remembered his house wasn’thome.But it felt like it.
As I threw my clothes into my duffel, choking back tears, I told myself it’s better this way.
I knew this would happen. It’s what always happens.
I should have known better. But I hoped things would be different this time.
Hope is the worst kind of fucking pain there is. It tears and it bleeds and it festers. I fucking hate it.
My phone buzzes again, and I pick it up, rubbing my eyes. I feel like shit and have for days.
What day even is it?
One glance at my phone tells me it’s Wednesday. Fuck. I groan when I notice the time. 2:15.
Guess I’m going to have to swallow my pride and go back to Dan’s Physical Therapy.
When I see the notification is from Britt, I breathe a little easier, but then I see what the text is.
