I drop my head at her words. Without even realizing it, she’s decided. I didn’t need her words to tell me she wasn’t choosing me. I fight the burning in the back of my throat. They all said it. They knew this would be the outcome.
“She will always choose me.”Drew had said.
“You think she would want you over a lawyer?”Valerie had sneered.
Their words ran through my mind, making it painfully clear that they were right. The one woman I wanted more than anything in this entire world does not want me.
“I love you,” I say looking back at her. “But I’m done waiting.”
“Mitchell, please,” she begs and her sobs grew louder.
I fight against my instincts. Walking past her to my front door, I swing it open.
“Go home, Ella.”
“Just give me time, I...” she reaches for me, but I step away.
“Go.” I don’t raise my voice. No matter how hurt I am or how much it feels as if my lungs are slowly losing oxygen, I don’t dare take it out on her.
Ella sobs, clutching her chest. “I’m sorry,” she says one last time before turning and rushing out of the house. The moment the door closes behind her, I let it all wash over me.
“Fuck,” I roar up to the ceiling.
Clutching my head, I walk over to the couch and drop down. The first tear dropped from my eyes, and then the rest continued to flow. I’ve never felt heartbreak like this before.
The Girls
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ella
The soulful voice of Brandy sings about being brokenhearted through my Bluetooth speakers.
It’s been two days. Two of the longest days of my life. My sons haven’t spoken to me. They aren’t even replying to my texts. I called Mitch. I had no right, but I just needed to hear his voice. My call went to voicemail. The only person I’ve heard from in the last two days is Andrew. He keeps telling me to give the boys time. I’m not sure how much more time I can give them.
I’ve spent the last few days lying in bed, listening to breakup songs and crying. I swear this feels worse than the months after the divorce announcement. At least then I had Mitch in my corner.
The moment I think of him, the tears come anew. I reach behind me, looking for my phone to call him again. Without turning my head, I patted the space behind me blindly. Suddenly, the music cut out. I roll over onto my back to find my mama standing on the other side of my bed with my cellphone in her hand.
“Mama, what are you doing here?”
Her gaze rakes over my wrinkled nightshirt, my wild hair that hadn’t been tied down in days, and my puffy, bloodshot eyes.
Her features soften. “A little birdie told me my baby needed me.”
“Cameron called you?” I try not to let the pain settle in my chest of knowing my son would call his grandma, but not me.
“I won’t reveal my sources,” she says pulling the covers up so that she can sit on the comforter and not the fitted sheets. “But what I will say is my sources were very confused on a certain relationship you might be having with a certain neighbor.” She takes a seat on my bed, one knee bent with the other foot on the floor. “Ella Marie, what’s going on?”
The moment the question comes out, the tears fall. Everything that I have been holding in flows out of me like a broken dam.
“Mama, I love him,” I sob as I lay my head in her lap.
“Oh, baby.” She rubbed my matted hair. My entire body shakes with my sobs. “Go ahead and cry. Get it all out.”
My mother didn’t ask me questions. She didn’t want me to explain anything or try to give advice. Instead, she allowed me to cry as she calmly rubbed my scalp and hummed a tune. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually I dozed off to sleep.
When I awoke, the smell of fried food had my stomach growling. Being sad and depressed doesn’t really make way for an appetite. In the last few days, I’ve survived off tears and a pack of crackers.
