My fault. This is my fault. Yet, jealousy rears its monstrous head, ripping through my sanity. Who are these women? Did something happen? Did he have enough of me?
My heart refuses to believe that, while my mind tries to piece the jumbled puzzle into a clear image. We didn’t have a fight, per se, but this is how he’s going to behave? Partying, drinking, and putting himself in these types of situations.
It feels like I am losing my best friend and the man I love all at once.
Tears spill down my face as I lift my feet onto the edge of the chair, hugging my legs. The vacation was a tectonic shift in our relationship. We could never return to how things were. That’s impossible, just like us.
Heartbreak. I thought I had gone through it twice, but in comparison, those breakups felt more like a prelude to what I am experiencing now.
Three days have passedby with a snap of the finger. Ian hasn’t sought me out, and I’ve been relieved one second and upset the other.
I insisted we needed a break, some distance, but I am barely holding on. I’ve typed hundreds of texts to him only to delete them. I pressed call, only to hang up before the first ring rang through even more.
It’s Sunday night. Propped against the window, I scan the entrance of the building. I don’t even know why I torture myself like this. By tomorrow, I need to pull myself together and give my best to the shop.
My best friend calls and I answer with a sigh.
“He’s still not back?” she asks softly.
“No,” I scoff. “That must have been a hell of a party. I guess I’m forgettable compared to the two models.” Jealousy prevails, and I don’t care about showing it.
He could have called, said something. We’re still friends, right? Can I really be friends with someone I love this much? We blurred the lines for good.
“Maybe this was the wake-up call I needed,” I grumble.
“Lilly, shut up. Did you call him?”
“No.”
She sighs. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I’m fine.” I am stuck on a very unhealthy program, watching for his return and perusing every gossip site. I don’t need any distractions. Someone check my mental state.
“I’m here for you, bestie. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Kat.”
I end the call, hurling my phone onto the couch, needing a break from stalking him online.
The moon is high in the sky, but clouds cast a shadow on the dimly illuminated street.
When I see the Uber stop at the curb, my comatose heart leaps in my chest. I watch him stepping out of the car, his eyes trailing up the building. He can’t see me, but I feel his stare searching for me. I pull the curtains, breathing a long exhale.
He’s home, he’s safe. Good.
I can calm down and return to pretending Ian doesn’t consume my every thought and own every heartbeat.
I pace to exorcise every bit of restlessness.Rein yourself in. Temptation will ruin everything. The words of my father clamor into my head. I don’t want to be a cause of misery for Ian, or why his mind is not in the game.
A knock sounds, and I startle, my back hitting the wall.
His gruff voice seeps through. “I know you’re there.”
I can’t make my mouth open. Maybe if I don’t answer, he’ll go away.
“I have the spare key to yours.”
I forgot about that part. Untangling ourselves from our friendship is harder than if we’d been in a relationship.
