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Okay, not really. I was trying not to self-combust in fear of somehow seeing him on my Instagram feed.
As I scrolled through my feed, I caved and looked up his profile. I wanted to see it for curiosity purposes.
I leaned my elbows against the granite tabletop.
There he was, Jacob_Cane145.
My heart thundered in my chest as I scrolled down his profile. All traces of me had been erased. The trip that we took to Bali only eight months ago. All of Valentine's posts he had made of me. Even in his highlights titled ‘home??’ the man had removed me from there too.
My heart squeezed a little.
I had removed him from my social media, but his doing it felt so permanent because Jacob didn’t remove anything from his social media. He always said it was like his digital diary. He wanted people to see his life story.
I had always thought it was a dumb notion, but now it felt like he had erased me from his diary. I was no longer a part of his life, and I had been axed from him.
Six years of loving each other. All the tears and laughs. All the memories and unfulfilled plans.
We were going to take a trip to Paris next year. I had even mapped out an entire itinerary. For so long, I had envisioned him as a permanent fixture in my life that the idea of not having him here tore at something in my heart.
It was no longer a plan for two but a project for one.
Why had I not been enough? Why could he not have just stayed?
The sting built behind my eyes, and I had to blink away the unshed tears. He didn’t deserve my tears; no man deserved them.
For too long, I had allowed myself to compromise my hopes and dreams for someone else. I had allowed myself to take a back seat to accommodate others and make them feel seen and wanted. All the while, I neglected the most important person—me.
I was so deep in thought that I did not notice the significant presence behind me until I whirled around, wanting to check on my breakfast, and rammed into his very naked chest.
“Jesus,” I pressed a hand over my heart and peered at him. “Announce yourself next time. You can’t just sneak up on me.”
“I called your name three times, but you didn’t answer me.” He stared into my eyes with those haunting eyes of his. “Are you hard of hearing?”
“What?” I choked on my saliva. “Is that any way to thank someone who let you use their water to clean off your BO?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “BO?”
“Yes, as in Body Odor. You know, smelly pits. The stuff that comes out when you sweat a lot and don’t use deodorant.”
“I didn’t have BO.”
“Fun fact, most people can’t smell their own BO.”
He blinked at me for a moment. He looked both confused and annoyed.
The tension intensified. Then, suddenly my brain did that mushy thing.
“Would you like some breakfast?” I cleared my throat, trying to look anywhere but his eyes. My gaze drifted lower, and my, oh my.
Then, I took him in entirely in all his half-naked glory. The man was fresh out of the shower and had no shirt on, which meant his very chiseled chest was on full display—all for my sex-deprived eyes to drink in.
That day I ran into him and Xander in the café; he wore a tight-fitting shirt. I knew that he was fit, but nothing like this.
The heavens themselves perfectly chiseled his chest. Some people were just blessed, and it was completely and utterly unfair.
One thing I did notice was the scar that rang vertically down the side of his torso. My eyes were transfixed on it. It looked like a wound of some sort.
Nathaniel had been in the military for five years and had done tours in some of the harshest places on the face of the earth. It only made sense that he came away with a few battle scars.
