Page 89 of Playing the Player

36

Sasha

Conor told me he loved me. He said the three words with so much emotion and so much conviction and it broke my heart in two.

And it wasn’t until then that I realized the truth. I love him too.

I should have told him. God, I wanted to tell him. But if I’d said it, if I admitted how I really felt, I don’t think I would have been able to let him leave. I would have begged him to stay, and then I’d be asking him to wait for someone who isn’t ready. That isn’t fair to him.

So I let him go. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I just wish he would have let me explain.

I don’t know why I told him everything between us was all fake. I don’t know why I couldn’t admit to him that this was the most real thing I have ever experienced. And now I’ve thrown it all away. I hurt him, and I hate myself for that.

Maybe I should call him, tell him that I do love him, tell him that this isn’t about not wanting him, but that it’s about needing to find myself before I can be with him. But what if that makes it harder? What if that hurts him more?

No.

I have to do what I should have done months ago. I have to fix my life. The sooner I can do that, the sooner I can go back to him. Would he even take me back?

The look on his face when I told him none of this was real will be seared into my brain for life. Every time that look flashes into my head, my chest aches all over again. I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again. I created this mess and now I have to live with that.

I’ve been laying in bed for two days, crying whenever my brain gives itself five seconds of silence. But now I need to get up. It’s time to get my shit together.

At least that confrontation with Max is over. I didn’t realize how much weight was laying on my chest until I told him exactly how I felt. The shackles around my ankles feel a little less constricting now and I think it was one step closer to finally healing. I can check that off my list.

Next, work. I have enough money in my savings that I could live comfortably for a few months. Do I risk quitting my job now? The question has been bouncing around in my head for weeks now and still, I have no idea. What if my book is shit and doesn’t sell? I’ll be left with no money and no job. But working at that God awful law firm leaves me feeling a little less alive every time I leave at the end of the day and I don’t even have the energy to do anything else. Damn it! I’ll come back to that one.

No impulse decisions allowed!

The next item on the list is easier. It’s time to cut every remaining tie to the life I had with Max. I honestly don’t think any of them would notice. They were more friends of Max’s than my own. How sad is that?

The only ones I really need to contact are Alex and Rose, but that’s only because I got their wedding invitation in the mail a few weeks ago and it has been sitting on my kitchen counter ever since. I can’t just ignore it. I need to let them know that I won’t be there. Do I need to give a reason? What would I even say?

Hey, I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to make it to your wedding because you’re both dicks. Hope you have a good day!

I don’t think that’ll cut it. I bring up Rose’s contact on my phone and type out a message.

Me: Hey Rose. I just wanted to let you

know that I won’t be able to attend

your wedding.

Me: I hope you and Alex have a

lovely day and have the best life together!

They won’t last five years and I can bet my right tit on that. Three dots appear on my screen. Disappear. Appear again. Disappear. They flash for a few minutes before disappearing completely. Thirty minutes pass and still nothing. At least now I know that our friendship never really meant anything to her. Whatever. Block.

Holy shit. I’m feeling lighter by the second. I’m gonna be floating when I check all these items off my list.

I had turned my phone off, focusing all my attention on my writing. If I want to get this done, I need no interruptions and if my phone is sitting in front of me, all I will want to do is grab it and doom scroll.

Now though, I have written everything that I can for today and can happily doom scroll without feeling an ounce of guilt.

I heat up some leftover chorizo pasta from yesterday and settle onto the couch, turning my phone back on. When my screen comes to life, so does all the notifications I had missed since this afternoon. My phone won’t stop buzzing and the need to turn it off again is strong but Olivia’s name flashing up on my screen over and over again makes me pause. Panic floods me when I see over fifty missed calls and texts from her and Josh. Dinner forgotten, I call her back.

My heart races to dangerous levels as I wait for her to answer. Has something happened to her? To Josh? Is Isabella okay? What if it’s Conor? Fuck, fuck, fuck.