Don’t get me wrong, her steps toward independence are exactly what she deserves. I’m happy she’s piecing her life back together.
Ineverwanted her to be a caged bird.
I’m in love with her, though. I want to be along for this part of her journey and I’m being iced out ever since she got the green light from her neurologist to start working again, with conditions, of course.
So yeah, I’m proud but also panicked of becoming irrelevant in Hope’s colorful world.
Left in the dust.
Yesterday she told me Zane’s wife, Fiona, offered her a gig as a host at her fine-dining restaurant, Gus. It’s perfect, really. She’ll earn some money in the soothing atmosphere of a high-endestablishment and won’t be subjected to The Mission’s sensory overload as a bartender.
Tonight’s her first shift.
An hour later, as Hope’s about to head out, looking gorgeous in a black, fitted dress, I muster up a weak, “You look beautiful. Good luck tonight.”
God. My attempt at normalcy is so forced. Even to my ears.
She pauses. “Thanks, Alek. I… Do you think I’ll be okay? It’s only a couple hours to start.”
Hope wrings her hands, clearly anxious. I hate she doubts herself.
“Absolutely.” I paste on a smile. “You’re gonna be great. Fiona is lucky to have you.”
Her grateful smile permeates her entire being and she visibly relaxes.
It occurs to me the distance between us is as much my doing as hers.
“I’ll see you later?” She sounds almost hopeful as she reaches for the door.
My heart lightens a bit. “Yeah, see you later. Sure you don’t need a ride?”
“No, my Uber’s here.”
After Hope’s gone, the silence in the apartment is deafening. I can’t imagine living without her ever again.
I’m half-expecting her to tell me she’s moving out. The past few mornings, I’ve woken up to find she’s turned fully away from me. She rejected me last night when I offered to go down on her, claiming she was still on her period.
I don’t want to make anything bigger than it already is, but there’s no evidence of discarded feminine products in the bathroom. I can’t help but think she doesn’t want to have sex with me again.
A week ago, she couldn’t get enough and neither could I. The best part of my day was when I’d burrow my cock into her delicious, sweet heat and we’d both achieve nirvana every single time.
Now, I’m painfully hard and I have no choice but to jack myself off at the memory of our last time together when she sucked me off as I ate her out at the same time. Another first for me.
I make a mess and clean myself up. Find myself on the verge of tears.
I’m losing her. There’s no question in my mind. Hope’s pulling away to help lessen the blow.
Needing someone to talk to, I dial my dad and let it all spill out.
“Alek,” Dad finally interrupts my rant. “You’ve got to remember, healing happens in layers. Hope needs to return to her own definition of normal. Whether you’re her friend or her significant other, your job is to always be her anchor, not her chain.”
“What if she moves on? Realizes she doesn’t want to be with me?”
There’s a long pause before my dad speaks. “Son, relationships aren’t static. They’re tested, stretched, reshaped. You’re in your own head. She’s your first love. If you survive this? You’re set for the long haul.”
“If we don’t?” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers, trying not to cry.
His voice is soothing. “I’ll help you pick up the pieces and move on.”
