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Here was a man that made everything feel new.
Who once drank all the Tito’s in a bar.
Who put me on a pedestal and worshipped me.
And who now with his absence caused that pedestal to crack and break.
I was broken. On the floor.
Dragged through the mud.
Torn.
There was no hope.
How could I have been so stupid?
There was no us.
Only me.
And the dark night of despair.
Emilia & Evan
Part II
One
Emilia
Not that damn song again.
I swear, it’s haunting me. Following me everywhere I go.
Can’t a girl just wallow in her heartbreak in peace?
I knock back my shot of tequila and try to forget. A challenge that’s becoming nearly Herculean.
“Can I get another?” I gesture frantically for the bartender as soon as my glass hits the polished wood.
He’s right there, pouring my fourth—or is it fifth?—shot.
“Let me guess,” he says with a wink, “you don’t like flying?”
I nod my head, even though flying doesn’t bother me in the least, because it’s a lot easier to just go along with what he says rather than explain to him why I’m actually drinking myself into oblivion while I wait on my flight to Fiji.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m drowning my sorrows before I run away. Go ahead and judge. You wouldn’t be the first.
As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from Erin.
Are you sure you’re making the right decision?
I can practically hear the concern through the screen.
No, I’m not sure if I’m making the fucking right decision. But at this point, I can’t stick around the Bradford for another second.
I have to get away. Get some clarity. Figure out where things went so horribly wrong.
