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JEREMY
"Come on, Jeremy. It's been two weeks, and you're still moping? You fell in love too soon, my friend." Damien takes another long sip of his whiskey as he leans closer, clapping my shoulder and shaking me a little.
I’m at the bar doing what I've been doing for the past two weeks–erasing my thoughts. The bar's dim light cast a subdued glow, but it does little to ease the heavy weight on my chest. I absentmindedly trace the condensation on my glass, each drop of water feeling like a reminder of Chloe’s absence. It's been two weeks, and she won’t return any of my calls or messages. I tried showing up at her place, but every time there’s no answer at the door either.
It’s like she disappeared into thin air. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve followed Ella, thinking she may lead me to Chloe, but so far, it’s turned up nothing.
My grip on the glass tightens. I wouldn’t be surprised–nor would I care–if it breaks. Chloe can’t run from me, not after stealing my heart. Even if I have to turn the world upside down, I will find her.
I take a sip of my drink, the bitterness of the drink mirroring the rejection lingering in my thoughts. I shrug Damien’s hand off my shoulders. "I’m not in the mood for your gloating, okay?"
Damien chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "Who’s gloating? I’m just glad you’re finally accepting the truth: you’re in love with her. I honestly didn’t know you had it in you."
A wave of pain washes over me. "You don't understand, Damien. It's not just about falling in love. It's about how she made me feel like everything else didn’t matter when I was with her. And now she's left without a word. Hell, for all I know, she’s lying in a ditch somewhere."
Damien signals the waiter for another drink. "That’s obviously not the case because your daughter would be losing her mind. Ella has to know she’s safe, so don’t let that kind of thing eat at you."
"Thanks. Because that just means she really did just walk out of my life for some reason," I mutter before draining my glass. The bartender swoops in with another one.
"Look, I get it. You thought she was the one when you never even thought you needed that. But you can't let this consume you. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that, my friend. Is it too soon to say welcome back?" He grins, patting my back.
I focus on the amber liquid, the reflection of my desolation staring back at me. "I don’t care about the abundance of fish. The fact that she made me believe in something more and now it's all gone makes me furious. There’s no coming back from this."
Damien leans back, a touch of seriousness in his tone. "I just didn’t expect her to be that type. Just goes to show you really can’t trust women, can you? But hey, you'll get through this. Don't let one person define your happiness. You were whole before her, and you'll be whole after."
Anger so intense, like something I have never felt before, ripples through me.
"That’s the problem. Iwaswhole until she stumbled into my life and made a mess of everything. Right now, all I can think about is the way she smiled, the way she made me feel alive. I don’t know, it's like she took a part of me with her."
Damien is silent, wearing a contemplative look as he swirls the ice cubes in his glass. "What if something happened? Not something life-threatening, but something that made her leave without a word?"
I glance at him, a mix of skepticism and hope in my eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing." He shrugs as if he’s still piecing together a puzzle in his mind. "But maybe she got caught up in something like family issues or an old friend showed up who needed her. Who knows? Sometimes people have their reasons, and it's not always about you."
I don’t say anything. Do I let myself hope that he’s right? Or should I just keep that hard layer of ice that’s forming around my wounded heart? I sip my drink, but the burning that usually wraps its warm fingers into my chest fails to work.
Damien's words hang in the air, and I consider the possibility. Could there be a reason beyond a simple change of heart? The uncertainty gnaws at me, but it doesn’t do anything to dissolve my anger.
"But," Damien continues, "you can't wait forever. If she had a good reason, maybe she'll reach out eventually. In the meantime, you've got to focus on yourself. Don't let this consume you."
"That’s easier said than done. She practically lives in my head. I dream of her every night. It’s like she bewitched me."
Damien laughs, but this time there is a hint of sympathy in the sound. Still, there’s only so much support a guy like him can give. He takes another swig, sets his glass down, and announces, "You’re going to survive. Now deal with it."
"I hopeyou’ve brought good news," I say, leaning back in my office chair and gesturing for my visitor to sit down across from me. I can’t help but look at the empty desk on the other side of the glass wall. I must glance at it a hundred times a day but it never fails to punch me in the gut.
"Good news for you," the man says, pulling a file folder out of a ragged-looking briefcase. "Not such good news for the person who’s hiding from you."
"She’s not hiding from me, Malcolm. We’ve been over that. What have you got?"
The private investigator hands over the contents of the folder. "It’s all there. Photos at her new address and her new job, pictures of her with your daughter. A photo of her walking a dog, though that doesn’t seem to be her animal. It was only the one time, and she hasn’t bought any dog food or pet supplies, so probably just doing a favor for someone in her building. She’s kept her same phone number and hasn’t deleted any of her social media accounts, so probably just ghosting you."
"Oh, just ghosting? Is that all it is?" I ask sarcastically, realizing just how casually Chloe could throw me aside. The PI shifts in his seat uncomfortably.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean that it’s not a problem or anything," he stammers, but I wave off his apology.
"Any other companions in her life? Besides the dog, that is," I ask, but Malcolm shakes his head.
