Anxiously exiting the fertility center, I released a long, drawn-out breath, made a mental note to call my sister, and then drove to the flower shop.
I needed to see him.
Feel his arms around me and listen to him tell me we’d be okay, we’d figure it out together.
When I parked my car and got out, the swarm of butterflies took over. My heart rate jumped, equally excited and nervous to see him. Two days of no contact made me realize I needed Easton in my life.
Entering the flower shop, I looked around, hoping Easton would be close by. He wasn’t. The place was empty. Casually browsing around, I grabbed a bundle of spring flowers, taking note of the last time I had taken flowers to Ty’s grave. After I set it on the counter, I did my customary search for a sour apple lollipop and waited for Mrs. Wilkes to finish what she was doing and cash me out.
“Hello, Lilly. How are you, dear?” She greeted with a big smile and kindhearted voice.
“I’m good, thank you.” I wrung my hands together and asked, “Is Easton here by any chance? I should’ve called, but—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Here’s not here, dear. He went back to New York. Did he not tell you?” The look of confusion and the worry in her eyes made my jaw drop along with my heart.
I swallowed hard and slowly shook my head. “No. He didn’t.” New York? “Did he say when he might be back?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
He said he would be here waiting. How could he just up and leave?
“Did you see him at all before he left?”
“I did. I was a little confused at first when he came in, mumbling about how he just visited his grandmother’s grave and needed to take her some flowers.” She gave me a look I couldn’t quite understand. “Just by looking at him, I knew something was bothering him. Then he said he wasn’t feeling well and asked for the day off. Of course I agreed since he’s been working nonstop since he moved here. Bless his heart.” Her expression and tone changed, and that was when I really started to worry. “Later that afternoon, he came downstairs, bags in hand, looking quite upset—distraught even. Said he was going back to New York and had a flight to catch, so he’d call later to explain. He rushed out the door, and I haven’t heard from him since.” She paused, staring at me as if I held the answer to him rushing out. Maybe I did. “Lilly, is everything all right? He looked really upset. Did you two have an argument?”
Upset. Distraught. Argument. Was our discussion an argument? I played back the events of that morning and the words we had exchanged. Nothing stood out that would have given me any kind of warning or indication that he might be distraught. He looked calm when he left. If our conversation bothered him that much, he didn’t show it.
Did he come to the realization that this was just too much?
Aware that I was probably the cause for his abrupt departure, my heart twisted. There really was no other logical explanation. I tried to hide how hurt I was, but too much had happened too fast, and I was holding on to my composure by my fingertips.
“No. No, we didn’t have an argument. I don’t know what happened. Thank you, Mrs. Wilkes.” I took a step back, forgoing the flowers and the lollipop. “If you hear from him, could you please tell him to call me?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. I turned around and forced one foot in front of the other until I made it out the door.
Something was wrong; I could feel it. Intuition this strong would never lie. Easton didn’t seem like the type of guy to just up and leave. But he could have very well come to the conclusion that this was just too much for him to take on and knew I wouldn’t be able to handle him telling me.
“What have I done?” I mumbled, chastising myself.
Gone. Just like that.
Breathe, Lilly.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and was startled by a man with strong hands grabbing my upper arms, holding me upright. “Careful, Miss,” he grated, and I looked up into the stranger’s irritated eyes. Another round of guilt hit me for being self-absorbed and careless.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry.” The stranger huffed and shook his head before carrying on.
I made it to my car. Blasted the air conditioning and tried calling Easton. It went straight to voice mail. I tried again, and the same thing. I dialed four more times and all four calls went straight to voice mail.
That was when the panic set in.
If he left on Saturday, that meant he would be in New York already. So, there really was no reason for him not to pick up.
Unless he doesn’t want to.
Backtracking to the night I told him I didn’t call because I wasn’t sure if he’d be awake or not, he said he’d always pick up. Even if it was just to say good night.
Well, why the hell would he turn his phone off?
I crossed my fingers, pressed send again, and this time when his voice mail picked up, I left a message. “Easton, it’s Lilly. I hope everything is okay. I stopped by the flower shop and your aunt said that you had left—went back to New York. Please call me. I need to know you’re safe and that everything is okay. . .” I waited a few seconds then hung up.
I needed to know we were okay.
By the time night rolled around, he still hadn’t called back, and I had images of the unimaginable reasons creeping in uninvited. Did he get into an accident and was lying unconscious in some hospital bed fighting for his life? Holed up in a jail cell and had already used his one phone call? Out at some bar getting shit-faced drunk, trying to forget he ever met me? But when I thought about how much he missed his family and friends, the hardest question I had to ask myself forced its way through: Did he finally come to his senses and go back to her?
He said he didn’t want her.
That they wanted different things in life.
But wasn’t that what people did? They went back to what was comfortable? What was easy? He may not have loved her, but he had spent four years with her. Plus, it wasn’t a secret that she still wanted him.
“Please don’t give up on me.”
Maybe I should have made him my priority.
That last thought was like a punch in the stomach. I forced down a wave of bile as my thoughts filled with self-loathing, wanting nothing more than to go back and change things. Did Easton think or feel he wasn’t a priority to me, because he surely did mean a whole lot.
It’s okay to admit you love him.
“Where do I go from here?” I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, drowning in my thoughts and a bottle of wine. Tyler’s letters and all the information Dr. Hardy had given me were laid out before me. Another four days had passed since the appointment and still no word.
“Easton, where are you?” It had been four days since my appointment, six days since I’d talked to him, and his absence was ripping open all the wounds he’d helped to heal.
I put the bottle to my lips while my eyes traveled the room and thoughts of Easton and the night he spent here filled my mind. The things he did to pleasure my body, the sincerity in his words, his touch, and the feelings he pulled from deep in me were almost too much. I was almost convinced he was real, someone I could share my life with. Someone who gave me a tiny sliver of hope back.
Refusing to throw in the towel, I grabbed my phone and dialed Easton’s number for what felt like the hundredth time. When I got his voice mail, I didn’t say much but a sad and simple, “Please call me.”
The silence stung.
His absence hurt.
How could he have disappeared without a word? The least he could have done was tell me he changed his mind, he made a mistake, and wasn’t ready for more. That would have been the manly thing to do. That is what I thought he would have done. Not this. So, why was he putting so much distance between us?
Sitting there in the dark with my back-and-forth thoughts, I allowed the different emotions to play out. Sadness, anger, and irritation, but it was the confusion—for multiple reasons that I had a hard time working through. I asked myself if I was even being fair. Easton didn’t owe me anything, let alone an explanation, and that was what hurt.
I took another long gulp and set the bottle beside me.
With a load of information in plain sight, I didn’t know where to turn. Tyler’s words silently speaking to me, reminding me of a choice I had no idea how to make. I grabbed one of the therapist’s pamphlets and brought it up to my face, squinting as the words became fuzzy. Would it even be worth the time and effort to meet with one of these doctors? What could any one of them possibly say that would bring me closer to a decision?
I set the information down, picked up the bottle, and took a long drink. The heat from the alcohol mixed with my wrangling emotions provoked the maddened feelings. I was no better off with a floor full of information than before the visit with Dr. Hardy, on top of it all, Easton was gone.
One minute, I hated him for leaving without a word, and the next, I hated Tyler for leaving me with too many words. I alternated between hating them both for the same reason before finally settling on hating myself. Maybe I was destined to be alone. A woman with a damaged heart surely couldn’t love again, right?
Frustrated, I grabbed the bottle, pressed it to my lips, and let my head fall back. Was it naïve to think there was a chance he’d still want me after I’d been so torn over this choice? I mean, who would want a woman who was incapable of letting go of her dead husband? Who would want that baggage? Sure, he said he would be my shoulder to cry on and that he would be there for me, but did I really expect that to last? I guess I had. Otherwise, this wouldn’t hurt so damn bad.
Maybe I should take that as a hint and leave well enough alone. Wasn’t that what I had barked to Tyler when reading his words?
Well, if Easton wanted to be left alone, his silence spoke loud and clear. I had enough heartache to last me three lifetimes just with burying my husband.
I had enough.