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“Okay.”
I stand there a moment longer, and then I take one last look at her, drinking her in, memorizing all the things that are already etched deep into me and I turn and walk away.
I turn my back on the only woman I could ever want.
On everything.
It’s hard to function beyond work. For two weeks I refuse calls from everyone, haven’t wanted to see them. I got served divorce papers from Brian of all people.
Divorce. Fuck, that word leaves my mouth bitter, my chest heavy, and the need to smash something almost impossible to ignore.
Losing the baby isn’t enough, now I have to lose her.
I thought… I sigh and pour another bourbon. Screw the honey Jack, I’ve moved on to something with more bite, burn, and oblivion per glass. So far though it hasn’t worked. I might pass out, but the hangovers have the added pain of memories coming back. Fresh, jagged, and ready to slice into my flesh.
Work is the only thing keeping me tethered. It’ll pass, I tell myself. The thing is, I don’t know if it will. Brandi snuck up on me, stole my heart and then crushed it in her perfect little hand.
Lies… Truth… I’ve spent every single hour of every day trying to figure out what was real or fake for our entire relationship. But it doesn’t matter. She told me she didn’t love me. And she fucking looked at me like she didn’t want me. Worse, like I reminded her of every single terrible thing that ever happened in her life.
And I can’t blame her.
She was pregnant with our baby, and I fucked up.
I put too much stress on her.
She lost our baby, because of me.
This is worse, far worse than Jessica. With her, looking back, I see all the warnings, the pieces of us that never fit. It would have burned out.
Brandi… Shit, I can’t keep thinking about her, it hurts too much. I toss back my drink and pour another.
I’m talking to myself, but I don’t care. “It wouldn’t have burned out. We were beginning, flying at the kind of altitude that goes on forever.”
I laugh because what else is there to do? Cry? I’m writing fucking Hallmark bargain basement cards from the reject pile for a woman who doesn’t want me.
My life’s a mess and I don’t even care. All I care about is her. A small voice tells me to quit wallowing, but I ignore it. Ignore the voice of reason I don’t need. I haven’t called my mom or dad. I haven’t even spoken to Tyler.
And Jessica?
Forget it.
The text I got the night we lost the baby still pisses me off, and all I wanted to do was warn her away from Brandi and tell her to keep the fuck from my life, our lives, or I’d slap a restraining order on her so fast her head would spin.
Ty? That’s a different problem.
All he said back was he’d be there when I was ready. Take all the time Brandi and I need to heal.
All the time.
What about turning it back? What about that? And I’m not talking about him and Jessica. I’m talking about the breakup with Brandi that lacked everything. Apart from conviction. That? It had that in spades.
My doorbell starts to buzz and I throw back my drink. If it’s Brian or someone from work, I’m slamming the door in their face.
I stomp over and open it and for a moment I just stare.
“What do you want?” I say to Jessica who’s done her hair like Brandi’s. It’s creepy and wrong. She’s even put foundation on which is a shade darker than her pale skin.
She smiles at me. “Travis.”
