Episode 18: “Unfinished business.”
That next day, after I’d chosen the sandbox over rational reality, all the symptoms of a shitty night’s sleep were there, creeping into my bones and creating my own personal hell on earth.
Pounding headache. Uneasy stomach. Aching muscles.
I’d tossed and turned for most of the night, my body strung too tight with restless, anxious thoughts to ever reach a point where I’d drifted off into oblivion for a few, much-needed hours of rest.
If I’d slept an hour the night prior, it would’ve been nothing short of a miracle.
Once I’d managed to pull my tired ass out of bed, I trudged into the bathroom and faced the music.
The song? It was called “I Look Like Shit,” and it was sung by yours truly.
[snorts]
I did look like shit, by the way.
Swollen cheeks, messy hair, and circles under my eyes that were so deep and dark, I could’ve told people I’d gotten into a bar brawl the night before, and they would’ve believed me.
Not only did I look rough, I felt rough too.
I felt like an asshole for calling Allie and digging for information.
I felt like an idiot for letting my overthinking tendencies get the best of me.
The night prior, I’d reverted back ten years to the emotional capabilities of a teenage girl, and I’d handled it all poorly.
I don’t know why I hadn’t just talked to Ollie.
It was such a simple thing to do, you know?
[sighs]
Yet I’d responded like an adolescent and only made things one hundred times more complicated than they should have been.
Yes, he did lie to me about the whole past relationship thing, but whatever happened with him and Amelia, that was in his past.
You can’t hold someone’s past against them.
Hell, if he started digging into my past relationships and long-ass list of ex-boyfriends, he wouldn’t necessarily be reassured about me as a partner.
For a twenty-seven-year-old woman, I had more breakups than Carrie Bradshaw had boyfriends and shoes.
Statistically, my past didn’t reflect kindly on my prospects as a suitable girlfriend.
Seriously, you guys, if I plotted that shit out on a graph, there’d be a serious discrepancy between failures and successes. No soft plateaus, just severe cliffs that dove straight to the bottom.
[soft laugh]
Anyhoo, by the time I managed to have a cup of coffee and a shower, I’d reined in my inner fifteen-year-old girl and focused my energy on being, you know, a grown-ass woman who handled shit like an actual adult.
I turned my phone back on, tapped open my ongoing text conversation with Ollie, and four missed texts filled my eyes.
Dinner tonight?
Where are you, little fire?
I’m grabbing a bite to eat downstairs. Come down and see me.
I miss you. Call me back.
Yeah, those didn’t really feel like text messages a jerk would send, huh?
With a poke of my index finger to the screen, I called him.
“You’re alive,” he answered on the second ring. His voice was groggy with sleep, but I didn’t miss the hint of relief in his voice.
“I’m alive.”
“I was about to send out a search party last night, but lucky for me, I got the guy at the front desk to let me know you last went into your room around three and hadn’t come out since.”
“You little stalker.”
He laughed at that. “Hey, I was starting to get worried. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. What happened last night?”
“I, uh, well, I just kind of fell asleep,” I lied.
“So, basically, what you’re saying is that I wore you out the night before…”
“Don’t make this about your ego.”
“It’s always about my ego, little fire.”
I snorted. “Whatever.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I have a few interviews throughout the day, but I’m free this evening. Want to have dinner?” I asked, fully intent on sitting down with Ollie that night and outright asking him about Amelia and his past and why he lied.
I was determined not to fall into my usual methods of handling things, aka avoiding things.
“I have bloody meetings through dinner. But how about a drink after?”
Not going to lie, I was disappointed, but it would still work.
We could grab a drink, talk it out, and who knows, maybe, like, do that whole amazing sex thing again if it all went well…
“I think I can pencil you in.”
“You think?” He chuckled. “More like, you’d better.”
“So bossy,” I muttered. “You know the world doesn’t revolve around you and your ego.”
“My ego isn’t what’s calling the shots here.”
“Do tell what is.”
“I can’t explain over the phone, but I’ll show you later,” he said, and his words curled with possibilities. Hot and dirty kind of possibilities. “See you tonight.”
“Okay. See you tonight.”
We ended the call, and I probably should’ve felt okay with it all.
I should’ve simply been excited to see him, but uncertainty, the little bitch, had hopped back into the driver’s seat of my emotions.
[sighs]
I still had so many questions.
Even though I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who let the past get in the way of the future, I still had things I needed cleared up before I could feel one hundred percent okay again.
I’m sure you can understand…
So, I resigned myself to talking to him that night.
I told myself I wouldn’t shy away from it. I wouldn’t sweep it under the rug. I wouldn’t ignore it. I’d just outright ask him about Amelia and why he’d lied to me about that relationship.
I’d like to tell you guys I kept my word.
I’d like to tell you that I met Ollie for a drink that night and I’d been open and honest with him about my uncertainties.
I’d like to tell you a lot of things, but the fact remained, that night didn’t go as planned.
[sighs again]
It went the exact opposite of as planned, actually.
See, by the time it had reached six that evening, I was mentally drained from six hours’ worth of interviews and pretty much starving for something to eat.
Jordy had spotted me in the lobby when I’d been on my way up to my hotel room, and he convinced me to grab a bite to eat at a beachside restaurant a block up from the hotel.
It seemed like a great idea.
I was hungry.
Room service took a while.
Eating dinner by myself didn’t seem all that exciting.
And after, I’d meet up with Ollie for a drink.
Jordy and I ate dinner on the terrace, at a table that provided the most stunning view of the ocean, while still allowing easy access to the inside dining area.
It was perfect.
He ordered shrimp, and I chose the grilled tilapia.
And by the time the waiter had brought our meals, we’d fallen into our usual, easy conversation.
“So, you’re heading back to New York before the event in France?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Yep. Gonna hang out there for a few weeks, spend some time with my family, work at the office, that sort of thing.”
“All work and no play,” he teased. “I feel like you’re going to need a vacation from your vacation.”
“Hey,” I retorted and pointed my fork toward him. “I do recall spending the day hiking toward a waterfall with you not too long ago.”
“That was, like, months ago.”
“It wasn’t that long ago.” I rolled my eyes. “Hell, my muscles are still recovering from it.”
He grinned. “It was a pretty gnarly hike.”
“Uh, it took us four hours, Jordy. And that was just the time it took to get to the damn waterfall!” I exclaimed, and he just laughed.
“In my defense, the guy at the front desk said it only took a few hours.”
“A few hours?” I snorted. “We left at eight in the morning and didn’t get back until eight that night. I mean, the waterfall was a dream, but for the love of God, there should be an easier way to get there.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t wear heels.”
“Shut up,” I retorted through an annoyed laugh. “I don’t always wear heels.”
He quirked a brow and leaned over the side of the table to glance down at my currently nude-pump-covered feet. “You sure about that?”
“We’re at dinner,” I refuted. “Heels at dinner is normal.”
“To be honest, I’m shocked you actually own a pair of tennis shoes,” he said with a smirk, and I raised my middle finger to flip him off.
“All right, you bastard. That’s enough ragging on Lucky for the night.”
Jordy just grinned and popped a shrimp into his mouth.
The waiter stopped by our table, and I lifted my eyes from my plate. But instead of meeting his eyes, I got sidetracked.
Right in the center of the restaurant, sitting at the bar, was Ollie.
My eyes brightened at the sight of him, and my nerves tingled with that all-too-familiar excitement he always seemed to bring out in me.
I nearly hopped to my feet to greet him, but just as I lifted my cloth napkin from my lap, I froze when a recognizable, beautiful blonde walked up toward him.
When she placed a gentle hand to his shoulder, he turned, and instantly, his face lit up with a smile when he locked eyes with her.
Without hesitation, he stood to embrace in her a tight hug.
Who was she?
Well, it was Amelia.
[sighs]
Yes, that’s right, Amelia Erickson, his ex-fiancée.
When he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and pulled out the chair beside his to help her into the seat, my heart all but fell out of my chest and onto my plate.
I imagined it bloody and battered and pumping pathetically on top of my half-eaten tilapia.
He’d told me he couldn’t meet for dinner.
He’d told me he had a business meeting.
Apparently, our definitions of business meeting weren’t the same.
I felt ill at the sight of it all.
“You okay?” Jordy asked, and I averted my gaze from Ollie and Amelia and met his crystal-clear blue eyes.
“Uh, yeah,” I muttered and realized I’d pretty much just gone mute for the past five minutes. The waiter had come and gone, and I sat with my napkin suspended in midair like I was about to wave the white flag or chuck it at someone’s head.
Both options felt appropriate in that moment.
“You sure?” he asked again and searched my eyes.
Was I sure? Hell no.
I wasn’t sure about anything besides the undeniable urge to flee.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
And I just couldn’t bring myself to confront Ollie or even clue Jordy in to what was going on, for that matter.
I’d played the part of the girl who gets fucked over one too many times, so reviving my starring role wasn’t exactly tempting, if you know what I mean.
I swallowed hard around the ball of discomfort that was one centimeter away from blocking my airway entirely and straight up lied to Jordy. “I’m fine,” I said. “I just felt a little nauseous there for a minute.”
[sighs]
Nauseous? More like, I was now having PTSD-style memories of my ex-boyfriend Josh and the way I’d found out that he was cheating on me.
Actually, it was pretty damn similar, to be honest.
I’d left work early, spotted him at a restaurant with another woman, and when I’d followed them like a stalker to the Hilton downtown and watched them walk inside, hand in fucking hand, it hadn’t taken long for me to put the obvious pieces of the puzzle into place.
[short pause]
Obviously, those memories did absolutely nothing for me in the current situation.
They only spurred more anxiety, more dread, more emotion.
And I could only imagine how awful and uncomfortable I looked to Jordy.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to go ahead and get the check.”
That was my nonchalant version of “Yes, I need to get the fuck out of here.”
He grabbed our waiter’s attention immediately, and a few minutes after that, I had the rest of my fish boxed up in a to-go container and was standing up from my chair.
All the while, I kept glancing inside the restaurant to find Ollie and Amelia still sitting beside each other at the bar.
I convinced Jordy to leave the restaurant via the beach exit, giving some lame excuse about wanting to inhale the fresh air coming in from the water.
And he unknowingly enabled my avoidance tactic. Instead of walking through the restaurant and out onto the street, we walked down the back stairs and onto the sand.
By the time I reached my hotel room, I sent Ollie a text telling him I needed a rain check on the drink, that I wasn’t feeling too well after eating dinner with Jordy and was just going to call it a night.
And he responded back right away with Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can stop by your room after I finish up with this business dinner.
Business dinner? The only business he had was un-fucking-finished business with his ex-fiancée.
I sent him one last text before I put my phone on silent for the night. Nope. I’m good, thanks.
Was I good? Hell to the no.
I was angry.
I was upset.
And most of all, I just felt bone-achingly sad.
It was the fact that he’d pushed me to feel that awful, intense emotion that really messed with my head the most.
I know there are probably one thousand things you would have done differently if you were in my shoes.
For one, you probably would’ve asked him about Amelia after the interview.
And two, when you saw him in the restaurant with her, you probably would’ve walked up and made yourself known.
[groans]
Yeah, I know I made some mistakes with the way I handled the whole damn thing. But the pain of it all was too real, and my need for self-preservation was too strong.
So, what did I do? I buried my head in the sand. Again.