It’s been over a week since I last spoke to Jack. No contact whatsoever. It’s been pure agony. This was way harder than I ever imagined. It was easy when we were apart before. I was used to it. Out of sight, out of mind. We were defined by my hatred and resentment of him. Now that we openly stated our love for each other, it’s way worse.

Wanting and longing for him was difficult, but I didn’t have a clue what I was missing. Now that we know each other’s feelings and how explosive we are, it kills me. Not being together feels cruel. Every day I get up hating and loving him all at the same time. It sucks.

My day begins the same. I wake up thinking of him and how he’s encompassed my life, every tiny space of it. He had to go and tell me he loved me. My mind, body, and soul are now all Jack all the time. Every direction I take leads me back to him.

I get my ass out of bed. It’s a big day here. We are heading into the city to dress shop for the ball. I’m not in the mood to deal with this bullshit, but Sam keeps me moving. At least someone can be happy with all that hearts and flowers shit.

“God, I sound jaded. Snap out of it.”

“Jaded about what?” Sam asks as she steps into my room. Her eyes are wide with curiosity. My mood is not geared up for a heart to heart.

“Dress shopping. I’m wondering how I’m going to fit these hips and ass into a tight little red dress.” It’s apparent that wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. If she thought I was going to mention Jack, she will have to wait a little longer. I’m not ready to go there yet. A little longer of my self-imposed martyrdom and I’ll be ready to talk.

“Seriously? Oh, please! Your body is perfect. You look hot in anything.” She takes my pillow off the bed and whacks me. I try to slide away but she knocks me solid not once, but twice. My reflexes are operating in slow motion. My whole body is.

Fuck, I miss him. I hate this sinking depression. It’s of my own doing. Apparently, I needed time and space. My idiocy continues to plague me. Truthfully, it appears that I haven’t learned a thing about myself. I thought being alone would be good for me but it just made things worse. Whoever thought up the whole idea of being alone makes you a better person undoubtedly was never successful in love.

Being alone sucks ass.

* * *

It’s been a long and exhausting day. Trying to act all rainbows and unicorns drains everything out of you. It was nice getting out of the house and doing something else. I have to admit there were a few moments I didn’t think of him, but they were few and far between.

We all worked hard to get the finishing touches for the ball. It’s going to be amazing. I wanted to go with a classic 1950’s style Moroccan theme. The barn will be transformed into a romantic escape. White silk organza hanging from the wood beams, tropical flowers, soft white lights twinkling, a large dance floor with an orchestra, and of course cascading chandeliers. My vision was inspired from old school love stories like in the movies. Hey, if I can’t have my own, I may as well let someone else.

Lying back on my bed, I notice a note on my pillow. It’s addressed simply, but I know who it’s from.

Jenny Bean.

He can’t let that nickname go, but I can’t be mad at him for it. It’s him. It’s us.

My hands tremble as I stare at the small envelope in my hands. No contact with him has been so friggin’ hard. I’ve been managing with both avoidance and borderline obsessiveness. It’s an all-in or all-out extreme. This note is a slap in the face.

Standing up, I place it on my dresser and sit back on my bed. I stare and wonder what could be in it. It haunts me with worst case scenarios. He’s moved on, he doesn’t love me, we were a mistake…

It’s weird how not knowing is almost better. The absence of information is easier than dealing with any more painful realities. Isn’t there some saying like that? Being oblivious is better than having the truth, at least that’s how I feel right now.

I have no idea how long I’ve stared at the letter when I finally decide to open it. This is my future and it will set our course for what happens next. It’s scary to know that one person has power like that over you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. You are just along for the ride, hoping they don’t want to get off without you.