Willow

 

I tried calling Conner four times, and sent him ten text messages, before I gave in and texted Steele.

Conner had hung up on me; hadn’t even apologized. At first, I was angry. How could he expect me not to be upset by another girl sitting on his lap, especially when said girl was his ex? Well, he’d assured me they’d never been exclusive, but still. She’d been his bed mate whenever he needed the warmth, and she was a cage bunny to top it off. Which meant she had very little self-respect. In my mind, anyhow. The point was, Simone wouldn’t give two shits if Conner had a girlfriend. But she also wasn’t the one in our relationship, which is why I didn’t hold her responsible. Conner should have had more respect for me than that.

I gave up on trying to get a hold of him once Steele texted me back and told me that he was fine. Conner was good, and had gone back to his hotel room. I tried not to imagine him going back to the room with her, and I had more pride in myself than to ask Steele about her.

I honestly didn’t think Conner would do that, but with a picture circulating the internet of her on my boyfriend’s lap, I couldn’t help but fear them hanging out. I mean, he was there. She was there. And I wasn’t there.

I hated picturing it. I hated picturing them in a club together, surrounded by people partying, and the alcohol flowing. I wiped a tear from my eye. I knew I’d only drive myself insane thinking about all the what ifs, if my mind kept wandering in that direction.

Since it was clear I wouldn’t be getting the answers I wanted, I gave up trying to force him to talk to me, and concentrated on work. Maybe putting my energy into something else would allow me the fortitude to not visualize the worst. Dana had given me certain freedoms with my next articles, since a few of the editors from her biggest clients had requested me specifically for future assignments.

It helped that the current project I was working on was the world according to women. Dana had some business out of town and had allowed me to choose my own topic. She said she’d shop it around once she was back in her office. For once, I was appreciative of her aloof personality. Luckily, I didn’t need much brain power to get a good hook going. I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on a topic that would take much energy, because emotionally, I was spent.

It had been a while since I had felt so off balance. I prided myself in being centered most of the time. It was one of the greatest gifts I’d been given during my stint at rehab. But I couldn’t help doubting myself, considering I had one fallout with the man I loved, and suddenly I felt like I didn’t know which way was up.

The whole thing seemed tragic somehow. I wasn’t sure how we’d gone from me wanting to stay at his house more often than my own, to us not even speaking.

Two days. One picture. And a whole lot of doubt.

I had no clue how to fix it all. I knew I wanted to, but at the same time, I was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. It worried me how he had reacted to our conflict. He just walked away at the first sign of trouble. I knew not everyone wanted to talk things out the way I did, but I was disappointed in the fact he didn’t try. He could have explained that he needed time, or he could have caught the first flight home because the woman he loved—or hated—was upset and needed him to explain why another woman was touching him. But he did none of those things. He’d done nothing. And that hurt more than anything.

 

***

 

“Hey, sweetie. I was a little surprised you called. I didn’t think I’d see you until next weekend.” My mom greeted me in her kitchen.

“You didn’t want to see me?” I teased.

“Of course I do! Get over here and give your mother a hug.”

I knew ahead of time, seeing my mom would make me feel better. Not that she could solve all of life’s problems, but a hug from her could get me through most things. I’d initially debated calling her because I knew she would worry, but letting her in on parts of my life just made me feel better. It had been a while since I’d felt so alone.

“What’s going on?”

I chuckled. “So, we’re just going to jump right to it, then?”

“You’re thinner than the last time I saw you, you have bags under your eyes, and you’re wearing your glasses rather than your contacts. These are all signs that lead me to believe you have not been taking care of yourself. And yes, as your mother, I demand to know why.” She smiled, as if she hadn’t just insulted me.

“Let me get some coffee first. This may take a while.”

Once we sat down, I spilled my guts to her like I was a fifteen-year-old girl who’d just gone through her first heartbreak. I was one hundred percent focused on giving her only the details, so that she could give me an unbiased opinion on how to handle it. That lasted for about five minutes. It didn’t take but one look from her for me to get completely honest.

I told her how I had entrusted Conner with my deepest secret, and that he’d confided in me as well. I told her how much I cared for him, and that I truly loved him. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how I felt about him, because I knew. But admitting my feelings to someone who wasn’t in our circle liberated me somewhat. Saying the words out loud to my closest family member made the relationship real.

“So, you haven’t seen him since he returned from Las Vegas?”

“Nope.” I’d considered running to his house a thousand times over the past two days, demanding he talk to me, but something always stopped me.

“Willow, if you love him like you claim, you need to talk to him. You need to fix this.”

“He won’t talk to me. I’ve tried.”

“Have you any idea what caused him to snap? What caused him to hang up on you? That was abrupt, and he never explained what his ex was doing there?” Mom had her hands clasped together and her legs crossed. She looked as if she were interviewing someone to clean her house.

I fought back laughter at the thought, and answered her. “I’ve had time to think about this. I believe I may have jumped to a conclusion and he took offense to it.”

“What conclusion?”

“I accused him of being drunk. That was when he hung up on me.”

Her eyes softened, and pity grew in her features. At that moment, I wasn’t feeling as confident as I had been just minutes before. “You said he had issues with alcohol?” I nodded. “And you assumed he was relapsing without him confirming it?” She leaned her head to the side.

“It seemed like he was.” I grimaced. “His voice was shaky, and did you forget the part about him being in a club with his ex on his lap? He would have had to have been drunk. Nothing else makes sense. He wouldn’t have allowed that, if he’d been sober.”

“Maybe he would. Maybe something happened right before that picture was taken. Baby girl, you know better than anyone what it feels like to be unfairly judged. It’s the main reason you don’t live at home anymore. You said so yourself.” She sighed.

Her words stung. She was right. I’d jumped to conclusions where his addiction was concerned, and I was sure, on top of all the other things he was thinking, regret at telling me his secrets was at the top. I knew what it was like once people knew about the bad decisions I’d made. It was like, no matter what I accomplished in life, they’d always remember that one time I tried to kill myself. And I’d done the same thing to Conner.

“I think I really messed up, Mom.” Tears formed behind my eyes at the revelation. “I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.”

“He will. If he loves you like you love him, he will. You just have to make him understand that your fear came from a real place. The same place he fears every time he turns his back on drinking. That dreadful place, the one that knows what can really happen if either of you give into the one thing that can ruin your life.”

I wiped my tears away and hugged her. It was then a thought occurred to me; I had something Conner didn’t have. Support. My mother had been there for me from the beginning. His had not. He made his mistakes, and she left him. Unlike my mother, she’d chosen her own feelings over his. She selfishly decided to take her disappointment and turn it into resentment, instead of lifting her son up so high that his foundation would take a hurricane to bust. No wonder he’d been swept away.

And here I was, acting like his mother had. I’d jumped to conclusions based on how I felt, never once taking into consideration that I was dealing with someone who, like me, had been bent, broken, and flawed; and that maybe, just listening to what he had to say would have benefited both of us.

I drove to his house, determined for him to hear me out. Even if he didn’t forgive me, I knew I owed him an apology. Whether or not he was flirting with an ex-girlfriend, or if he’d been wasted beyond measure, I had assumed the worst about a situation I knew nothing about. I hadn’t trusted him, and that was the bottom line.

I wasn’t sure what that said about me. I’d thought the whole time we were connecting, talking, and spending time together, that I was slowly learning to believe him—to believe in him. But maybe, as much as I wanted to be there mentally, I wasn’t. Maybe my experiences would never allow me to feel enough security to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I felt defeated pulling into his driveway. His truck was parked outside the garage, so I parked behind him. Sitting in my car for a few minutes, I attempted to pull myself together. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him when I knocked on the door. But I moved without thinking any further, and within seconds, he opened the door and stood back, silently inviting me inside.

We didn’t exchange pleasantries. In fact, an awkward silence fell around us as I took a seat on his couch. He followed suit, sitting at the opposite end, facing me. His disposition worried me. He was tense, cold. My showing up had set him on edge. He wasn’t calm or confident. He was distant; a million miles away, even though I could have reached out and touched him. My certainty faltered.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected. In my mind, I guess I’d figured that once I explained what I’d felt when I saw the picture, he would understand why I would have made the assumption he was drunk. But as he sat there, staring at me like he’d never met me before, I wasn’t sure I needed to elaborate anymore. I wasn’t sure there was anything left to fight for.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry.”

His silence stretched on. I watched his head barely nod, but other than that, he didn’t respond. Out of guilt, I continued.

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I know that now. I’ve thought about how I would have felt, if you would have done that to me, and…I’m sorry, Conner. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t know why I thought it.”

“You said it because you believed it.”

“Maybe I did.” I shrugged. “But now I understand that even if I did believe it, I should have trusted you. I should have trusted you to confide in me—to do the right thing.”

His gaze dropped. He seemed extremely focused on a piece of loose thread in the leather of the sofa. Our conversation stalled. I watched him turn the thread over his index finger again and again, while I waited on him to respond.

“Why did you believe it? What have I done to give you the impression the first thing I’d do when I got out of town was cheat on you, then get wasted?”

I shook my head hating that we were here. Only weeks ago, I thought my life couldn’t get any better. I thought all my insecurities were in the past, and that I finally had peace with myself. That I was able to have a real relationship with someone who could love me the way I wanted. The way I needed.

“I don’t know. It was almost impulse. I swear, I’ve gone back to the moment my phone rang a million times, and every single time, all I can remember is that it hurt so bad. I felt betrayed, and the only thing that made sense was that you had to have been intoxicated. That there was no way you would have allowed another girl to be that close to you if you were of sound mind.”

He blew out a frustrated breath and rose from the couch. I watched him pace back and forth, considering his next words. It worried me that he had to think so hard on what to say.

“I didn’t know she was there. After the fight, we all went to a club to celebrate. She showed up with some other girls. She was wasted and fell on me. It took everything I had not to knock her ass to the floor. She was in my lap for a total of five seconds, but I guess that’s all it took for a picture to commemorate the moment.” He growled, obviously still frustrated by the incident.

And I believed him. I wanted so badly to tell him, but I felt like he would take offense to it. I didn’t think he would be grateful that I believed him now, so I stayed quiet and allowed him to continue.

“You hurt me too, you know. All I wanted was to hear your voice. To have you anchor me when I felt out of sorts, because I was in an environment I didn’t want to be in. I only went to the after party for Steele. I wanted to support him, but just like every other time I go to places like that, I felt like crawling out of my skin once I got there.”

“I’m so sorry.” I stood.

“I’ve never given someone so much power over me. No one has ever had the ability to hurt me the way you do, because I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

“I feel the same way about you. I swear, if I could make you understand that my questioning you had more to do with me than it did you, I would. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess old habits are hard to break, even when you think you’ve fought through the toughest part of them. I thought I had left those insecurities behind, but at the first sign of trouble, I went right back to them. And I know I can’t take it back.”

I grabbed his hand and brought it to my mouth. I kissed his palm and held it over my lips while breathing him in. “I promise, I will never doubt you again. Please, accept my apology and know that I will do everything in my power to replace your disappointment with assurance in me—in our relationship. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

His lips caught mine in surprise. Moving with fervor, his hands shot up my shirt, hot and needy. I helped him remove my jeans and panties while he walked me back to his bedroom. Need overtook every inch of my body and soul. Need for us to reconnect. Need for him to forgive me. I wanted him to understand that I’d learned something in the process as well. I’d only ever known the superficial parts to love. Lust. Being able to co-exist; trusting them to hold down a job.

I’d never loved someone the way I loved him, where we’d made it to the nucleus—to the deepest part of the relationship. The part where we both understood that we were our own person without the other, but choosing to live as one. I got that now. I got the intricate parts of how love could last, and I wanted it with him. I wanted it forever.

I put every ounce of passion and emotion I had in my body toward every kiss we shared. Neither of us came up for air; we breathed for each other. Hands, sighs, grunts, and nips furiously overtook, and neither of us fought it. We gave in, gladly.

Conner didn’t speak or even respond to my apology. He never spilled his guts, telling me how much he loved me or needed me. He did show me though.

Three times.