“This time, no one will be waiting for you to come back.”
And I know that she’s right.
61
Casey
When I turn up at his front door, it’s three in the morning. I tossed and turned in bed, incapable of closing my eyes, terrified that the images of us in my mind could disappear along with him.
Martin opens the door, bleary-eyed, rubbing his face.
“Casey?” His eyes widen when he finally makes out my form in his doorway. “What the hell’s going on?”
I throw myself into his arms, not brave enough to even utter a single word; as soon as my head hits his chest, I let myself be washed away in a tide of tears that I’d been holding back for so long. Martin slowly lowers himself onto the floor, keeping me clutched to him, stroking my hair and murmuring comforting words into my ear. They’re words that I can’t quite make out, because my mind is still swirling withhiswords, telling me that nothing has changed, that I’d believed him. That he doesn’t want me.
We stay like that, on Martin’s hallway floor – me, wrapped up in his arms, and him, trying to calm me down – until the last tear drops from my eye, my heart in ruins that no one could ever rebuild.
* * *
Martin laysme down on the sofa. He makes me a cup of tea, which I politely accept, but have no intention of drinking. He looks at me, his eyes full of pity, waiting for me to speak; but words are pointless. What good would it do to explain what happened? To repeat his words?
Nick has left again.
Nick has left me behind.
Nick doesn’t love me. He never did.
Martin strokes my face; it’s a comforting, gentle gesture, that provokes another wave of juddering tears.
“Jesus, Casey.” Martin kneels down next to me. “Please, say something. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help you.”
“He’s gone,” I manage through sobs. “He left again.”
“Why? What happened?”
I shake my head. “He took everything – everything there was to take – and he took it away with him. Nick doesn’t love me, but I…” I lift myself up and throw myself into his arms again. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head.
“You love him, just like you always have.”
I bury my face into his neck.
“Oh honey. I’m so sorry.”
“He played with me, with my life. It was all just a game to him.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”
“There’s nothing to think. Nothing to do, nothing to say. There’s just nothing, Martin. He took away everything.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t know when, but I promise you that this’ll pass. You’ll go back to laughing and living your life, and…”
I lift my gaze to meet his. “And loving?”
He smiles sadly.
“It’s impossible to love anyone after loving Nick O’Connor. You don’t love him for a month, or a year, or even eight years. You love him: end of. You don’t forget about him, you don’t move on. He leaves you behind, and you can’t do anything but wait for him.”
Martin pulls himself onto the sofa, letting me sag lifelessly into his arms.
