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Sometimes, we need them because, in the end, our love will come out stronger and forever will mean just that…
Forever.
Twenty-Six
Andy
The journal sits on the coffee table in front of me inside my hotel suite.
I stare at it for minutes on end, jumping back and forth as to whether or not I open it to begin reading.
They are Jessa’s thoughts.
Thoughts I maynotwant to hear.
The last few weeks tested me in ways I never imagined possible. The mental and physical endurance came with challenges, and, of course, my weaknesses were brought to the surface. To sit back to give the woman I love and want to spend the rest of my life with, time so she can help her husband grieve over the loss of his mother almost drove me to the brink of insanity.
There were times when the days became dark, and all I saw was pitch black. My mind conjured up thoughts in which she’s fallen back in love with her husband, wanting to give it a second chance.
And in the pits of those dark moments, his hands wandered all over her naked body. Touching her in ways no one else can but me.
To add fuel to the burning fire, my nightmares persisted.
My father is back again, dying in front of my very eyes. My mother’s screams are heard in the background, and my father’s dead body is being placed in a corpse bag. It was one sleepless night after another, combined with sleeping pills that did nothing. The only thing able to keep my mind focused and clear was the gym.
The workouts began at three in the morning, sometimes lasting until seven. I ran the streets of Madrid before the city even woke up. I did everything I could to numb the constant pain.
Then, Noah insisted I head to London for another photoshoot, making temptation harder to resist until she showed up to hand me this journal.
With a bare hand, she was missing her wedding ring.
My hands reach out to run my fingers along the leather-grained cover. The texture is soft, and unknowingly, my lips press together thoughtfully as I imagine Jessa’s delicate finger tracing the very same spot.
Slowly, I turn the page with a deep breath to begin reading the words…
There’s always one summer that defines who you are. For some, it’s a childhood moment, and for others, the teenage years.
For me, it was my first solo trip to Manhattan to see my best friend.
The memory plays like an old-time movie—Jessa standing at my door wearing the Rolling Stones t-shirt she stole off me with ripped jeans exposing all her legs. I recall the joke I made, asking her what happened to them since it looked like someone was scissor happy, only for her to push me out of the way and head straight to my kitchen for alcohol.
My eyes move back toward the page, continuing to read her words as I find myself getting comfortable on the lounge, like catching up with an old friend as no time has passed.
The hour passed, my emotions taken on a wild ride with twists and turns I never expected. There were times when I laughed at the memories and others where my stomach was ill at the thoughts of her husband.
Night falls across the room, forcing me to turn on the lamp to read the final pages.
And even though your heart can beat a billion times during the course of your life, if the man you’re irrevocably in love with doesn’t beat to the same melody, the pain will only lead to one thing.
A broken heart.
The next page is blank, and the story she tells is far from finished. I hold onto the journal, then quickly check the time. It’s after eleven, almost midnight.
But I know sleep is impossible.
Not when I need to know how this ends.
* * *
