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And then I decided to not say anything unless Willow brought it up, which she didn’t.
That’s probably only because I threw her off when I professed my love, which was my desired intention.
But, man, did I get it wrong.
Though I do love Willow, like so intensely that it fucking hurts.
But now she’s done with me.
Can I blame her?
No.
After all, I did lie.
I don’t deserve her trust.
Ripping the sheets off the bed Lydia was in—ugh!—I roll them into a ball and trudge down to the patio out back, where I throw the whole damn mess into the firepit.
I work on starting a fire, which doesn’t take too long, and then I run into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the refrigerator. After what just went down, I sure can use one.
When I return, the sheets are beginning to burn. I add more kindling and some fire starter logs and soon the flames are raging. Black smoke billows up ominously into the sky.
Maybe Willow will see the smoke and become concerned that my house is on fire.
I laugh. “Nah, at this point, she’d let me burn.”
Plopping down in one of the chairs in front of the fire, I crack open the can of beer.
Even though it’s a craft lager, and a variety I usually enjoy, tonight it tastes bitter and wrong.
Still, I drink it.
I watch as the flames crackle and burn, the sheets disappearing to nothing but ash, like my time with Willow.
Talk about crashing and burning. I’m clearly a total failure when it comes to relationships.
“That’s why I don’t do them,” I say out loud. “I tried to tell her that.”
I clearly should have stuck to my position.
But I have to admit my failed relationships in the past were different from this one. When they were over, I let them go. With Willow, I still want to beinthis relationship we built.
Crushing my beer can, I hold it aloft and declare, “That’s why I’m not going to give up and lose her.”
No, I’m going to do whatever it takes to win her back.
Because when you love someone with all your heart and soul, that’s what you fucking do.
Willow
Once I’m out of Arden’s house and away from his property, I take my sandals off and run down the road, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don’t even care that the gravel is tearing up the soles of my feet. They’ll heal, but I may not. Yeah, that pain is nothing compared to the feeling of my heart being ripped out of my chest.
When I reach my house and slam the door shut behind me, I crumple to the floor and sob along with the wailing of the police sirens now coming down the road to escort that awful Lydia chick out of Arden’s house.
Damn, this pain is worse than what I ever knew with Liam. I thought I loved that guy, but my feelings for Arden are so much stronger.
Still, it doesn’t matter in either case—one is a cheat, and the other is a liar.
