Page 9 of All The Broken Pieces: Vol. 1

Chapter 9

The night blurs into every other night. Just as every day goes on without end bleeding into the next with little differentiation. The hole in my chest consumes me. Grief swallowed everything and spit out my bones. All I can do is keep breathing and get to the next day. At some point it should get easier, but not now. Not tonight.

Emotions are sloshing in my chest like a kid carrying a fish tank. They splash out and ruin everything I touch. I have no idea why Vi puts up with me. She’s handling it better than me, but she didn’t lose her husband.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. Assuming Zach was cheating is horrible, but he was doing something. My senses knew it then and I know it now. Digging around in his past won’t help me move forward, so I don’t. Instead, I think about the happy times. It’s the only way the pressure on my chest eases. I can breathe if I remember him. His beautiful smile. The dimple on his cheek. The way his cheeks felt between my palms when I kissed his lips. The roughness of the stubble lining his jaw. The dark hair that fell into those blue eyes. The way his lips tugged up at the corners ever so slightly when he teased me. The vacant gaze and plastic pleasantries towards the end. The way we sat in the same room and silence swallowed us whole. That trip was supposed to help us reconnect. Work got between us. Life knocked us down. I thought he’d still be here. Instead, I’m alone wondering if he was an asshole. Wondering if I knew him at all.

“Ahhhh,” I grumble in the back of my throat, letting the sound rip out like a wounded animal. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I say it to no one. Sighing, I glance into the long mirror on the wall opposite the bed. It’s tilted against the wall, reflecting me. Here. Alone. “I need to get a dog and stop talking to myself.”

The night passes slowly. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything all at once. Every part of my soul was stripped bare. This raw feeling consumes me to the point that I don’t trust my instincts anymore.

The crisp white sheets cling to my skin in the balmy night. I twist and turn, and finally doze off thinking about Zach. My mind moves in slow circles until it lands gently on a pleasant memory—our honeymoon in Paris. Our love lock, placed on a bridge. Newlyweds and completely in love, we spent every moment tangled together. The way he looked at me made me feel alive. His gaze lit my body on fire. I was pliant in his arms as he traced every inch of me with his fingers and then covered me in kisses. The lacey lingerie and the posh room at the Ritz with a chandelier hanging over a fluffy bed with a white coverlet. We never left the room. I can still feel the way he moved against me. I still see his eyes, feel the warmth of his breath as he pressed his lips to my skin again and again, showering me in affection. My body curved into his. It was like he was made for me. The way we intertwined, slick with sweat and breathing hard, was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. Then, after we were spent, he wrapped his sculpted arms around me.

His finger traces the curls clinging to my cheek. His voice is deep, still filled with desire. “My beautiful wife.”

He rolls the word around in his mouth and kisses my temple. My body curves against his, my bare hips nestled against his as he trails his lips over my neck. After he slides his tongue along the outside curve of my ear, he rests his hand on my breast.

Sated and sleepy, he whispers, “My wife, my Greek goddess. I love you Abbey.”

With those strong hands on my body and the way he watched me back then, I felt like a goodness when I was with him. It was impossible not to in those early years. Men like that are in fairytales. I had one and I lost him. If I’m being honest with myself, I lost him long before I buried him in the ground.