And just like every night when my friends went off to bed, I was left in a place that wasn’t home, all by myself. Every negative thought taking its sweet time to invade each crack in my mind would finally erupt the moment my head hit the pillow.
Once my friends were in their rooms, the television had been turned off, and the light disappeared, it was just me and my phone. Per usual, the damn device pestered me to open the text thread between me and Spencer. And just like every night, I gave in.
I read the texts, thought about how I’d respond, then went to bed remembering how life had been insanely different just a few weeks ago.
Spencer: Avery, I know you need time, but please come back tonight. Let’s talk about everything. Just me and you.
Spencer: Jackson left. Baby, please tell me you’re coming home.
Spencer: I just need to know you’re safe.
Spencer: I can’t sleep without you.
Spencer: Good morning, I missed you last night and I hope you’re okay. I’d love to talk when you feel like you’re up for it.
Spencer: Good night, Avery. I thought about you all day. I love you more than you know.
Spencer: Good morning. It will never get easier falling asleep without you.
Spencer: My sheets smell like you. It’s comforting and heartbreaking all at the same time. I love you, baby. That won’t change. Sweet dreams.
Spencer: You’re the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning.
Spencer: And the last thing I’m thinking about before I shut my eyes. Just like every night, I’m sure you’ll find a way to invade my dreams.
Spencer: I came across a new crime documentary that I think you’ll love. I added it to my list so we can watch it together some day.
The text messages continued to come in every morning and every night that we were apart. He stopped calling after a few days, resorting to only texting.
He’d left me one voicemail. A message I’d play after I tortured myself by reading his texts. It was the only way I was able to go to sleep at night—by hearing the sound of his voice, even if it sounded strangled and choked up.
“Bella, I miss you. I love you. And I’m assuming you’re safe. If you went off the grid, I’m sure I would have heard from Andi or Peyton by now. I know this is hard, I know it’s completely fucked up, and I know there is a lot we need to talk about. I’ll be here when you’re ready … whether that’s next week, next month, or next year. You were made for me, and I refuse to think otherwise. The best relationships have speed bumps, and this is one of ours. I know this is only temporary. I’ll talk to you soon, until then, I’ll promise to think about you every day.”
I only allowed myself one listen. Anything more than that, and I was just asking for a manic episode.
Hearing him tell me how much he loved me, and that he would wait for me as long as I needed, it broke me inside. It didn’t feel right for him to wait around for me to get my shit together. But it also didn’t feel right to live a life without him. He was the only person I’d ever felt truly loved by. With every night that I listened to his words, my heart got closer to snapping right down the center.
How long would this feeling last? How long would I put myself through this before I decided to talk to him about everything?
If I broke down and texted him back, called him, or met up with him, I’d give in. I’d fall into his arms and ask him to heal me. But being with him meant accepting Jax back into my life too, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be prepared for that.
I’d worked so hard to heal. To become a version of myself that I was proud of. I worked tirelessly for the last couple of years to create a version of myself that I could be happy about in the future.
Accepting a life with my ex-boyfriend in it felt like ten steps backward and three years of self-work down the drain.
Was love really worth risking it all for?
Fortunately for me,I’d been doing my job for so many years that at this point it was pure muscle memory running through my veins. Every call I hopped on, my mind knew exactly what to say—even in the moments I didn’t feel fully present. Same went for the e-mails flooding my inbox.
I was a robot.
In-person meetings were being pushed, something I’d never done. And for weeks, Jayson had been on my ass for ignoring his calls.
Talking about my problems was not my forte. I’d rather hole up in my penthouse with a bottle of bourbon and sulk. I was realizing that at the ripe age of forty, I’d never actually known what it felt like to be heartbroken. In my past, I’d get over it and find someone new. I never got attached easily.
But Avery wasn’t just any girl. When she walked into my life, it wasn’t hard to realize that if she walked away from me, I’d be nothing without her.
My phone rang all day, buzzing with insistent notifications. When each one came through and were in factnotAvery,whoever was on the other end of the phone didn’t fucking matter.
