My head feels like it’s clouded in a fog as I get ready for work. Even putting on one of my favorite work outfits—a pretty gray lace sundress—doesn’t do a damn thing to lift this cloud of confusion and heartache that’s fallen over me since I left Beau’s apartment weeks ago. After brushing my long, wavy, brown locks, I flip my head forward and pull it all up on top of my head into some semblance of a messy bun. I can’t bring myself to go to much effort, considering my current state of mind. But I did dab some concealer underneath my eyes and applied a few coats of mascara. Waterproof, usually my arch nemesis, has now become my trusted companion. After putting my brush and makeup bag away, I head to the kitchen to snatch my phone off the charger and bag off the counter. Sliding my feet into my black heels while swinging my bag over my shoulder, I lock the door behind me and start the five-minute walk to work.
I keep my head low, not in the mood for the overly friendly people of our small town this morning. Walking briskly, I continue until I see the familiar crossing approaching; my destination is located just two doors down on the other side.
Working as a receptionist for Thompson & James wasn’t exactly my dream job after going to college and earning a degree in business. But with options being kind of limited in Ivy Falls—population 5,602—it’s where I ended up. And despite my two bickering bosses, I actually kind of love it.
“… the hell did you think would happen when you fall asleep and stay asleep all night on the couch like some kind of unmovable boulder?” Wilma’s telltale screech welcomes me as I enter the door and walk toward my desk. Putting my bag in the drawer and my phone on my desk, I’m then smack bang in the middle of another one of their arguments. And I mean right in the middle. My desk sits between their two offices. Which, incidentally, the doors to said offices are only about fifteen to twenty feet apart from one another. Yep. They’re practically face to freaking face.
“That I’d maybe, juuuust maybe, finally have a peaceful night’s sleep for the first time in the past thirty years. Thanks to your goddamn snoring, woman.” Ken barrels out before tilting his head slightly my way with a cheery, “Good morning, Olive.” To which I return as well as shooting one Wilma’s way. Totally used to all the crazy that comes with my job.
“Besides”—he turns his attention back to his wife—“if you had done me the courtesy of waking me up so I could get off that damn contraption you call a couch, perhaps it wouldn’t feel like some kind of elephant marched all over my back at some point throughout the night,” he finishes with a raised brow in Wilma’s direction, looking smug.
Ha. I can’t help but find their ridiculousness kind of hilarious even during what feels like one of the toughest times of my adult life. I duck my head and boot up my computer while I start going through the files that need to be dealt with today. If anything, I need this distraction. Even if I feel like I want to retreat home, back to my beloved couch, and hide under my favorite blanket for the next, oh, I dunno, seven months?
Wilma’s still chuckling at her husband’s response when I look up at the computer and check today’s appointments. “Wake you up? You say it like that’s even possible! Once you’re out, you’re out. Ain’t nothing anyone can do about that, and you know it. So quit whining like some prepubescent teen whose balls still haven’t dropped and get back to sorting that court order for the Robinson’s. They’ll be here at 9:15, right, dear?” She turns her tilted head my way while her husband grumbles something under his breath.
I nod while replying, “Yep. Confirmed yesterday afternoon.”
Wilma tilts her head and leans over some more, probing me with that intense gaze of hers. Seriously, it’s a wonder neither of them ever fall out of their freaking chairs. “Dear, are you okay? You look a little pale. Did you forget to eat breakfast again?”
I actually didn’t forget. Despite the queasiness—which I’m not entirely sure if it’s from the baby or the father—I’m now eating for two. Even if my stomach is in knots almost every hour of the day.
“Nope. Toast and a banana. I’m fine, really, Wilma. Just been feeling a bit off the past few days.” I try to smile but send what I’m sure is more of a grimace in her direction.
She hums before slowly righting herself in her chair and hopefully, getting back to work.
Feeling relieved she didn’t persist, I get back to aimlessly checking appointments and thankfully losing myself in other menial tasks.
The husband and wife duo inherited the business from both of their fathers who were friends as well as business partners. Wilma and Ken then decided sometime after that it “made sense” to get married, seeing as the two saw each other daily and owned the law firm together. They’re also too stubborn to call it quits. But if you ask me, I like to think they both got married for the usual reason a couple does. And that they still put up with each other, bickering and all, maybe proves that. It might be just as comfortable to them as watching a good movie and snuggling on the couch is for other couples. The work phone rings, jarring me from where those thoughts were heading.
Thank God for that.
I manage to make it through most of the day relatively unscathed. Except for one incident when a client brought their four-year-old daughter with them to their appointment. Cue thoughts of the baby, Zeke, this craziness that’s seemed to have taken hold of him, and my life—followed by a quick dash to the bathroom to mop up a few escaped tears.
After saying goodbye to Wilma and Ken, I step outside to skies slowly turning overcast as dark gray clouds roll in. As I walk home, every thought starts to run through my mind like a plugged hose that’s been waiting to spew its contents, and I’m soon transported back to a time when I never thought I’d ever have to question his promise of forever …
The skies open and drench us in wave after wave of raindrops. It’s coming down so hard I can barely see where I’m going. I’d trip and fall—there’s no question about it—if it weren’t for the hand holding steadfast to mine. “We’ll hide out over there for a while and wait it out.” I don’t bother answering, being that I can’t see whatever it is he’s talking about anyway. To be honest, I’m too busy clinging to his hand and hoping we don’t run into a car or any other objects likely to inflict pain. Not even a minute later, we’re under cover, and I use my free hand to wipe the water from my face. Only to pause when my other hand is released from Zeke’s, and then both of his large, warm hands are brushing water from my cheeks, eyes, and smoothing the hair back that’s escaped from my ponytail.
I open my eyes, not even realizing I’d closed them, to see him staring intensely at me. His square jaw shadowed in sandy blond hair since his last shave. God, I love him with facial hair. I love him, period. But that facial hair? My stomach flutters, just remembering two nights ago when I felt its coarseness between my thighs. I shiver, and it has nothing to do with my soaked cheerleading uniform. Zeke notices, though, and wraps me in his arms. His cheek rests easily, softly on top of my head as we both just breathe one another in and listen to the patter of the rainfall.
I’ve never felt this content. This safe. This loved. This all-knowing feeling that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be with exactly who I’m supposed to be with. Sometimes, I feel the need to pinch myself as a reminder this is real. That he’s actually mine.
As if reading my thoughts, Zeke lifts his head from my hair as he leans back a bit. I look up in time for his hand to cup my chin and his lips to land on mine. It’s sweet, soft, and unbearably short. Then again, nothing is ever enough when it comes to him. He’s turned me into an insatiable monster. A smirk pulls at those delicious lips—the bottom one a little plumper than the top one—as if reading my thoughts once again.
“What?” I breathe. He chuckles under his breath and then looks down at my soaked cheerleading outfit.
A frown now mars those striking features. “Fucking hell, Liv.” He glances around. As if he can see through the sheets of rain still falling outside our little world underneath the rotunda.
“Jesus, you have no idea how fucking glad I am that no one is around right now,” he says while scrubbing a hand down his jaw. He returns that heated gaze to me, which then moves straight down to my chest. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I look down too, to find that the white and blue uniform is doing absolutely nothing to hide my rock-hard nipples. Oh, my God. I mean he’s seen me naked a handful of times now, but I still look away, feeling my face start to flame.
“Liv, don’t.” He tips my chin back his way. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen on a normal day. But today …” He swallows again, shaking his head while still pinning those hazel eyes directly on my greens. “Shit. Right now, someone needs to lock me up and throw away the damn key before I have my way with you in a very public place.” He finishes on a deep breath. I laugh, which only makes him groan and look like he’s ready to pounce.
“Easy, tiger. Let’s sit for a while, yeah?” I smile and grab his hand to pull him over to the middle of the rotunda, where he proceeds to sit on the concrete and pull me onto his lap. Face to face. O-kay. So much for behaving. But he simply runs his hands up and down my goose-pimpled arms before asking something that throws me slightly off balance.
“When did you first know you loved me?”
From the moment I saw you, I instinctively want to answer, but knowing I never could, I simply respond with, “When did you?” He laughs, knowing exactly what I’m playing at. But he humors me as he answers. “I think I’ve always known. But the day it really hit home was when you turned those grass green eyes of yours my way and demanded, ‘Would you just kiss me already?’” he mocks in what I’m guessing is his attempt at my voice and then grins. I do, too, as I recall the first time he took me out, several months ago, to the movies and ice cream afterward. It may sound cheesy as hell, but I honestly don’t think I’ll forget that night for as long as I live. He had walked me home and just stood there, staring at me. I was losing my shit with nerves. I mean I knew he liked me. I knew it, but I needed that kiss more than anything. I’d been waiting for it since I was fourteen years old; when I first laid eyes on Zeke Walters and instantly starting crushing on him. Justin Timberlake who? It was that bad. I loved the crap outta J.T. At the time, I felt like I’d be happy if I just got that one kiss. Just one kiss from the boy I’d loved from afar for years. And when I’d finally snapped at him—desperately—it was humiliating.
Time seemed to stop as he grabbed my face with both hands and finally touched those lips to mine. Slowly. Searching. Learning each curve and crevice until it felt like they were made to do exactly that with only each other. I knew then that I’d never, ever be okay with just one kiss. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry.
“I knew at that exact moment that I’d love you forever, Olive.” He leans in to let our lips touch softly as he murmurs against them, “Always.”
I almost miss a step while climbing the three steps of my front porch. Grabbing the railing, I use my free hand to wipe at the tears that have unknowingly escaped. Is this what it’s going to be like for the next however long? Until he gets his shit together, wakes up, and comes back? Because it seems ridiculous to think that he won’t ever come home.
Would I even take him back?
Especially after all he said or, rather, didn’t say weeks ago? It isn’t like any part of this is solely my fault. But it damn well feels like it. I shake my head while wiping at more tears. They’re all stupid questions, given how I’m feeling right now. I’d be furious. It might take me some time, but of course, I want him back. I feel like a vital part of me is missing. At this point, I’d settle for him admitting to going partially insane and giving me a good five … okay, maybe ten-minute grovel. I never once thought I’d need him to do that. To be honest, over the entirety of our relationship, he’s never had to grovel because I’ve always been putty in his hands. He’s also never had reason to do so. Until now, that is.
Doesn’t want kids? That’s fine. We did everything we could to avoid that. I took my pill religiously. But shit happens. A lot of men don’t want kids, but I just stupidly always thought that was something they’d get over with time. Accept it for the gift it is and happily move forward into their new lives. I mentally add naïve to my list of middle names because I guess Zeke’s reservations went deeper than I, or anyone else thought. I take few deep breaths, trying to get these rioting emotions under control.
Tissues. I need to get inside and get to one of my dozen boxes of tissues scattered all over the house. I force myself to let go of the railing that I’d unknowingly been holding on to for dear life and make my way up the last step to the door. Unlocking it and turning the lock closed behind me, I’m immediately hit with a weird feeling tingling up my spine. Placing my bag and keys down, I walk toward the kitchen to discover the reason—a key and a note sitting on the kitchen counter. I know who it belongs—or belonged—to before I even read the messy scrawl. The note only says two words. Just two words that send my mind and heart racing.
Covering my mouth to keep in the sob begging to break free, I start chanting, “No, no, no, no,” while practically running to what was our bedroom. Our bathroom. The living room. Ripping open closets, drawers, and cabinets; only to find every trace of him, besides the pictures of us throughout various points of the house, gone.
Just gone. As in not coming back.
Oh God, this is really it.
What has he done?
My back hits the wall in the hallway outside the bedroom, and I sink down to the floor. Denial and disbelief leave my body, causing me to shake violently. There’s no room for them now. It all needs out, and I surrender as rivers of the most agonizing heartbreak I’ve ever experienced fall from my face to the floorboards. Tiny puddles form to tell me what I should’ve already known. What I should’ve stopped protecting my heart from. And that’s that love can light up your life and wrap you in its protective arms. Whisper sweet nothings in your ear at night. Make you smile when all you want to do is remain angry. But it all can be snatched away in an instant. Just because someone says forever doesn’t mean you should ever truly believe them.
Love lies. And love leaves.
I’m on my own.
It’s really over.