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And with that, I hung up, flinging the phone on my bed. Wrenching my engagement ring off my finger, I threw it across the room, not even caring what happened to it. It could fly out the window for all I cared.
I collapsed on the bed, the sobs instantly overtaking me, the anguish in my heart so raw, so painful.
And the worst part was I had known this would happen. Something inside me had known it all along. The instant he'd first called me and mentioned her, there was something in his voice, something in his tone that had warned me of this very thing.
God damn it. What was it about me that my fiancé had actually cheated on me?
What was wrong with me? Was I not enough?
All the broken dreams surrounded me, taunting me, as I cried my shattered heart out. Dreams of a house with Devon. Dreams of our children running around.
We were going to begin trying immediately on our honeymoon. I wanted to start a family. I was ready to be a mom.
For some reason, I felt like being a parent myself might help me resolve the guilt around my dad. Like maybe I'd understand more once I was a mom.
Everything was ruined now.
I should have gone with him to New York. I should never have let him go alone.
We had not withstood the distance. We had not withstood the test of time. We'd barely lasted a few months of our long-distance relationship.
I'd made the mistake of my life, letting him go like that. But I'd wanted to stay here, not wanting to leave my grandparents, not wanting to leave my home.
And Devon had said he'd be back. He'd promised me. He'd promised me.
With that thought, I cried even more. How many tears could one person have?
I could hear my phone ringing and ringing and ringing. But I didn't get it. I didn't care what anyone had to say right now. I was in too deep. I had nothing to say to anyone, nothing anyone wanted to hear.
Despair curling around me, I wallowed down into it, pulling the covers over me, burrowing into my bed, never planning to get up, wanting to sleep forever.
***
I must have passed out from sheer exhaustion, sheer pain. From a distance, I became aware of a knocking sound. A knocking that wouldn't stop.
Then a voice calling my name. Shouting my name.
Josh. It was Josh at my front door.
But I couldn't get up to answer. I hunkered down even more under my comforter, wishing I could disappear, wishing the world would disappear.
What was the point?
My two pieces of grief converged—the break-up and the loss of my dad—making me sob again, the hot air under the covers suffocating me. Not that I cared.
"Jessica?" The voice was closer, sounding like it was inside now. "Where the hell are you?"
Josh must have used his spare key. But I didn't want to see him. I couldn't let him see me. I was a wreck. I was at the lowest of the lows.
Holding my breath, I didn't move a muscle as I lay there, hoping that my body would blend in under the messy covers.
God, please don't let him find me.
I heard his footsteps come into the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut, reminding me of playing hide and seek with my dad when I was little, how I believed if I closed my own eyes, he wouldn't be able to find me.
Oh, fuck, that hurt. It hurt so much.
A sob escaped me. Damn it.
