BROKEN PIECES
January 19th
“Do you mind if I cut out early?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the bag I’m putting back on the shelf in the studio.
Though things with Eric are still a bit less organic than I’d like for them to be, they’ve been better. His mood and temperament have been more predictable for the most part, and I haven’t felt like my mere presence upsets him. But something’s been bothering him today.
We spent our afternoon photographing a little girl for her first birthday, which made me fall in love with this job even more. Watching her smash her cake and seeing the pure joy she was experiencing made me feel lighter. It’s been a very long time since I’ve smiled and laughed that much, but Eric seemed edgy and distracted. At first, I thought maybe he didn’t like working with small children, but I’d caught a soft smile on his face more than once as he gazed at the little girl.
When I don’t get an answer, I turn to find him standing right behind me, his brow creased in concern.
“Is everything okay?” He studies my face as if it holds the answer.
His worry for me is overwhelming and a little suspicious. It makes me wonder if he’s suddenly treating me with kid gloves because of what he saw at the bar. My guard was down that night, and he’d seen the crack in my armor. The last thing I want is for him, or anyone, to treat me like I’m broken.
“Yep.” I shoot him a bright smile. “Everything’s great. Now that I have some money saved, I can get a place of my own. So, I made some appointments to check out a couple places around town.”
“Alone?” His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, and I’m not sure whether I want to roll my eyes or laugh.
“Well, yeah,” I shrug.
Does he seriously think I’m so damaged I need someone holding my hand for everything? I’ve been handling shit on my own for a long time—way before I left Christopher.
“I have the afternoon free. I’m going with you.” His tone is flat, an edge of finality to it, as if I have no choice in the matter. Without looking to me for confirmation, he turns on his heel.
“That’s not necessary,” I huff, following behind him. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“I want to be sure you find a nice, safe place,” he interjects, like he hadn’t even heard me speaking. “Besides, they’ll want you to verify your employment, and I can speed up the process by taking care of that while I’m with you.”
He comes to a stop as we reach the front desk, turning to face me again. The warm, caring smile on his face melts the icy wall trying to keep him out, and I sigh. Out the corner of my eye, I see Roxy smirk, soaking in every second of our interaction. She’s been relentless with the questions and insinuations. This is only going to add fuel to the fire.
“I suppose you do have a point there.” Narrowing my eyes, I feign annoyance.
He slaps the front desk in excitement and winks at me. “Of course I do. Afterwards, we can stop to get a bite to eat. It’ll be nice to spend some time with you outside of work.”
My stomach flutters and my body stiffens as his attention moves to Roxy, my own eyes snapping over to her. Her lips curl, then spread wide across her face, but she doesn’t say a word. Not that she needs to. I know exactly what she’s thinking because it’s the same thing I’m thinking and the reason I’m finding it so difficult to take in air.
This feels like more than merely ensuring a good working relationship—even more than building a friendship again—but I’d let myself believe in the possibility of more with Eric in the past, and I couldn’t do that to myself again.
“Congratulations on your new place,” Eric beams, holding up his beer in salute.
My heart stutters as I return his smile. Lifting my wine, I clink it with his bottle. “Thank you.” Averting my eyes to my glass, I bring it back to my lips, taking a bigger gulp than necessary as I try to drown out my unwanted thoughts and feelings about him.
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry they didn’t have anything available sooner for you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Shaking my head, my gaze finds him again as I place my drink back on the table, rubbing my fingers over the stem. He’d gone out of his way to help me today, and the fact that he feels the need to apologize for anything is absurd. His behavior is so confusing, but that’s always been Eric’s MO. Just as it’s always been mine to allow him to get too close. “That gives me some time to get my things back here. It actually worked out perfectly.”
“Right,” he mumbles, a disconnect in his eyes as he shifts his gaze away from me.
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, and I chew on my bottom lip as I fidget in my chair, my eyes skirting around the restaurant in search of our waitress. Check please! My anxiety grows until even the sounds of the bustling restaurant seem to become quieter—other people’s laughter and conversations hushed, clatter of dishes and banging of pans faded, leaving only the sound of my rapidly beating heart. When my eyes land on Eric again, his stare is fixed on me, and my face heats.
“What?” I croak.
“Were you happy there, with him?”
Collapsing against the back of my chair, I let out a puff of air, feeling as if I’d literally been hit out of nowhere by his question. My forehead creases as I consider how to answer, and I shrug.
“I don’t know, Eric. Happy can be a relative term. I wasn’t miserable the way I had been here.”
He clenches his jaw, then sighs, and guilt knots in my stomach. I don’t want him to think he didn’t matter, especially when nothing could be further from the truth. Explaining that would mean giving him a better explanation for the choices I made, though—and that isn’t something I can do.
“Did he treat you well? Were you taken care of the way you should have been?” he probes, his unrelenting glare filled with overwhelming emotion.
A heaviness settles on my chest as I struggle to get air past the huge lump in my throat, my wet eyes burning as I fight to pry them from the hold he has on them. These are questions no one ever asked me over the seven years I was married to Christopher—questions I hadn’t even asked myself—and I don’t know how to answer them.
Pulling my shaky hands in my lap, I pinch the inside of my left thigh to banish my bubbling emotions, then clear my throat as I sit straighter in my seat.
“I think perhaps he did the best he could with what he had to work with,” I answer honestly. “He got more than he bargained for with me. I came with a lot of baggage.”
His eyes close briefly, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deep. “So, that’s a no,” he grits out. “Don’t make excuses for his behavior, Julianna.” His use of my actual name instead of Jules causes me to wince slightly, like a child being reprimanded by their parent. “He should have treated you like the treasure you are. Instead of helping you carry that baggage, he added to the weight of it.”
His words are filled with conviction, his eyes reflecting the honesty behind his statement, but he doesn’t know the truth. It would be easier to blame Chris and make him the bad guy, but I was at fault too. I’d never given my heart to him. I’d been distant and disconnected, going through the motions of a life with him without actually living it.
Shaking my head, I bite the inside of my cheek and cast my eyes down.
“That isn’t fair. There are things you don’t understand—things you don’t know about me. I’m a lot more shattered than I pretend to be.”
“We all have broken pieces, Jules.” When my eyes lift, his lips curve into a warm smile. “He should have been the one putting those fragments back together and making you whole again. You deserve that. You’re worthy of that kind of love, broken parts and all.”
His words strip me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed to the harmful elements of my emotions, and I wrap my arms around my midsection to brace myself. My overloaded mind scrambles for a response as I focus on the woodgrain of the table.
Damn Eric and his ability to make me feel this way—cared for, protected, safe.
It isn’t real…is it?
The waitress steps back up to the table, startling me and breaking the spell of the moment. By the time she’s walking away with the payment and we’re getting up to leave, my shields are firmly back in place.