Page 111 of Sand in My Boots

I told him I’d wait, but these five days have been plain torture. My work’s suffering because I can’t bring myself to care about romance—even of the fictional variety—when my love life’s in shambles. I can’t even read about happily ever afters.

I’ve only showered once since he left. Trying to prove to myself I was a big girl, I used his towel. I got over the fact it wasn’t “clean,” but it brought a slew of tears because it smelled too much like him. The only person I wanted to share my “victory” with was him, but since I’m not sure of the “rules” during this time, I refrained.

He sent exactly one text—Safely home. I cried then, too. It’s pretty much what I do these days. Elisa has had to pick me up off the floor a few times.

The most ironic thing about all of this is I don’t regret my decision four years ago. I wouldn’t change the fact I fronted the money for him. Even to end up in this place. He deserves it. Even if he thinks he doesn’t or can’t get past it. Whispering Tide makes him happy, and he’s damn good at his job. Why would I want anything more for him? Well, except to be a part of his life there. To see him every day after work. To go to sleep and wake up next to him every day. To make good use of his balcony. Most importantly, to be with him. He makes me happy. He makes me feel complete. He makes me feel loved. In a different way than my family. He makes me feel cherished.

I hope he figures this out soon. The not knowing is killing me.

“Honey, I’m home.” Elisa’s spirited voice rings out in the otherwise quiet of my condo. Her laugh at her own joke makes its way to my bedroom before she does. She appears at the doorway, and when she sees me, she clucks her tongue. “Babe, you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Possibly the day before?”

I look down, totally forgetting what I’m wearing. She’s right about them being from yesterday, but it’s possible they’re from the day I actually showered. Holey leggings and an oversized T-shirt, both of which probably stink.

“I’ve changed my underwear.” Well, not the complete truth. I took off the ones from the other day, but never replaced them with new ones.

She enters the room, bouncing on the bed next to me. “I’m not saying you stink, but have you thought about showering again?”

“I have, but then I convinced myself I didn’t need to. I’m not going anywhere and I’m comfy. These are my wallowing clothes. Leave me be to wallow.”

“Did you do any work today? Eat anything? Brush your teeth?”

“Kinda. Had a cookie. Yes. I managed to do that.”

“What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” She settles against the headboard, her feet crossing at the ankles.

“Wallowing.”

“Text him yet?”

She thinks I should. In her mind, having no “rules” means I should text Cameron. See how he is, but don’t ask him where he’s at. She was adamant about that part.

“No. Leaving the ball in his court.”

“Talked to big brother?”

“He texted me yesterday to see how I was. He has to know, but he didn’t dig for information. Nor did he give any, before you ask that question.” It’s on the tip of her tongue.

“You can’t wallow forever.”

“Says who?”

“Why would you want to?”

I push up to half-sitting. “Because I miss him. And I want him back. I want to tell him this is stupid. But I can’t tell him that because I don’t want him to think I think he’s stupid. Just this stupid behavior. Why does he have to be such a man about this? He’s already taken the gift and is enjoying the hell out of it. Grow some balls, admit you don’t have to have the most money, and move on. Does that sound so hard?”

“No.”

It’s not Elisa who answers. Cameron stands at the doorway to my room.

Without thinking about how I look, I jump off the bed. “How are you here?”

“A little invention called an airplane.”

“Don’t be funny.”

“You like me funny.”

Dammit, I do.