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Each of them comes up to me, shakes my hand, and offers their condolences. And with each commiseration, that wave of emotion in my body solidifies, until it feels like I’ve turned into the Stone which is my nickname. I grit my teeth, manage to say and do the right things, and get through it. I know Gio's making sure the food and drinks keep coming, but I don’t thank her for it. I want to. God, how I want to pull her into me and bury my face in the crook of her neck, and inhale and stop the walls from building up between us, but I can’t.
I keep the mask of polite interest on my face until, one by one, Grams’ friends begin to depart. The Ice King team follows. They turned up in suits, bringing the press to my door—something else my wife managed with great finesse.
Fuck, if I don’t admire her. Fuck, if it doesn’t convince me further—I can’t do without her. Fuck, if it doesn’t affirm she's too good for me.
Not that I share the decision I arrived at with my closest friends. I don’t need to, though. These men know.
Finn scowls. "You need to grieve. Holding it in is going to turn you into the man you were before she came along," Finn warns before he leaving.Thanks for nothing, asshole. It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.
JJ takes one look at me and wipes the smirk off his face. "Don’t do it," he warns. "Whatever it is, don’t make decisions when you’re in emotional distress."Good advice. A little too late, though.
Sinclair sets his jaw. "You’re grieving, but that doesn’t excuse making poor choices." I bare my teeth. He arches an eyebrow, then growls, "I hate having to pick up the pieces when my friends are hell bent on burning bridges to the lifeline they have." Then he spins around and leaves with Summer.
Michael doesn’t waste his breath on words. He points his forefinger and middle finger toward my eyes, then back at his.Yeah, yeah, like that scares me.I’ve made up my mind. And I’m doing it for the good of both of us.
Edward's the last to leave. Under the guise of hugging me, he squeezes my neck so tight that my vision blurs. "If you hurt her any more, I’ll fucking kill you."
Take a ticket and get in line, mofo. And the temporary hurt I’m gonna cause her is better than the lifetime of hurt she’s setting herself up for if she stays with me.
Tiny, though… That mutt is something else. He runs between me and my wife all evening. Back and forth, back and forth. As I put distance between us, he traverses it faster. He knows something's up. He's trying his best to keep us together. And if he stayed, he’d know what I'm about to do is unforgivable. That I deserve all the hate my friends and hers are going to pour on me. If he stayed, I’d lose my nerve.
Grams set up India for life in her will. She wants to go traveling and is leaving tonight. So, I push Tiny’s lead into Edward’s hands. "Will you dog-sit him? Just until Liam and Isla return?"
Edward looks at me strangely. I'm sure he's going to refuse, but then he nods and begins to lead Tiny away. The dog whines and pulls Ed toward Goldie. She pats his head and coos to him. Tiny brushes his head against her side very gently in goodbye, then the mutt turns and glares at me—no, I’m not kidding, he does. Then, he prowls over and bumps into me so hard, I almost fall over. It's a warning, I’ll have him to deal with him if I cause Goldie any further sadness.
It's only temporary, though. She deserves better. Someone who doesn’t come with so much baggage. Someone who’ll love her the way she should be loved. Someone who'll be there for her every step of the way. Someone who didn’t betray her. Yeah, she needs such a man.
But I'm not that man. She deserves so much better. She deserves someone who will treat her better than me. Someone better than me. It’s why I’m doing this—for her good. It’s why, when the last guest has left, and it's only my wife and me, and the remnants of the feast she laid out for them, I turn to her and say, "Thank you for your help this week. I won’t forget what you did for me. But I don’t need you anymore; you can leave.”
72
Three months later
Georgina’s To Do List
Wake up at 5 am, meditate for fifteen minutes.Not even going to pretend to try. I miss him. Why do I miss him? I shouldn’t miss him after what he did to me. But still, I miss him.
Go to the gym at 5 am - half an hour workout.=>I have no motivation to work out and it’s all his fault.
Healthy breakfast – oats? Croissant.Chocolate croissant. => I have no appetite, for the first time in my life. That’s good, right? So why doesn’t it feel that way? Why do I feel like someone put their fist down my throat and is squeezing my chest?
Get to the office by 8 am and get through all emails by 9 am. => I hate L.A. traffic. Hate it. What I wouldn’t’ give to get on the tube in London, which I hated while I was there. But everyone is polite and distant and gives me my space there. Here, I have to pretend to be in good spirts, and greet everyone, and bah! It’s not just London. I miss him. There, I said it. Again.
Avoid thinking about the Dick and his big dick. Avoid, avoid.
Lunch – started the grapefruit diet and I hate it.
No need to shave legs, and other parts. He’s not here. And no I didn’t do it for him. I totally DID do it for him.
Hello, Steely Dan. You are no compensation nor competition for the Dick. But if you’re all I have...
Read/ listen to 110 spicy books this year. 51 down, 49 to go => I give up. All the detailed scenes remind me of him.
Put this down for the satisfaction of crossing it off the list. There, happy? Not really.
73
Three months later
