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No. I’m not. I’m dying inside.“Don’t pretend to care. I’ve seen your true colors.”
“Anne, please. Let me explain,” he said.
“Tell it to someone who cares, because I don’t. Now leave me alone, Andrew. I have nothing to say to you.” That wasn’t true. There was so much I wanted to say, but if I did, it’d be like opening the floodgates and I knew the tears would begin to fall. No way in hell was I giving him the satisfaction of hearing me cry.
None of this was real. It was a fantasy that I fell into because I wanted it. I know my reality. And Andrew isn’t in it.
I went to my bed, careful not to step in any of the broken glass, and buried my head in the pillow. His sweet, musky scent still lingered on my linens. It was torment. Everything here was going to remind me of Andrew. I could now relate to what Aunt Trixi was feeling. I didn’t want to spend another moment at this cabin, either.
Quietly I sobbed, but I swear the sound of my heart breaking was louder than the crashing mirror.
When I finally got back up and left my room, the cabin was quiet. Andrew was gone. I had gotten what I wanted, yet somehow it hurt more.
How can someone make me feel so good, so alive, so happy, and then ruin it all in the blink of an eye?
I knew how. Because I had fallen in love with him. And as they say, “Love hurts.” But I don’t believe them for a second about a broken heart healing. Whoever ‘they’ are.
Normally I’d call Aunt Trixi and cry on her shoulder, but she was going through enough right now. She doesn’t need to know anything about this. Ever.
As I walked through the living room, I spied the pink thong still sitting on the couch. I picked it up and threw it in the trash. They might have been my favorite pair once upon a time, but now, I never wanted to see the color pink again.
