The only thing worse than being ripped apart is not being able to fall asleep and forget about it for a few hours. When I’m an emotional wreck, I can’t fall asleep. Not only does it mean that there’s almost no end to the torture, but it also means that I’ll be tired and groggy when I go to work, and my mind won’t stop running over everything that’s happened.

By Tuesday night, I’m a complete mess. I look like shit, I have dark circles under my eyes, and I haven’t shaven since Monday morning. I snap at anyone trying to contact me, and they’ve started avoiding me at work.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It’s all about Skylar, of course. And Paul. I can’t get over my brother and the woman I love playing me like I’m a fool. Did they think I wouldn’t eventually find out? Of course, it’s taken me long enough. There’s just so much to wrap my head around.

After everything has settled, my mind starts running through all the conversations: what Paul said, what Skylar said, what I said.

I’m starting to regret my words. I was so angry I couldn’t think straight, and in my fury, I said things to Skylar that I really shouldn’t have. I’m not going to call her to apologize, though. She lied to me. Not only did she withhold from me that my brother is gay, she married the guy when she was going to date me. And this shit about her being online in sex videos? Fuck, I don’t even know how to deal with that.

We had so much together. I think about every time we’ve had sex. In her office at the bakery. In Paul’s house. In my place, repeatedly. In Colorado. Everything we’ve done was so amazing, so erotic.

And now? How many other men have seen her naked? How many other people have jacked off watching her doing… whatever?

God, I can’t even think about it. I feel betrayed. I feel like she took something sacred, something personal, and threw it out there for the world to see.

I think that this was before I met her. I know that it’s got nothing to do with the sex I’ve had with her, but it makes it feel like my most intimate moments have been thrown out there, anyway.

I can’t get over it.

I was ready to tell Paul he was lying and he was talking through his ass. I was ready to tell him I didn’t think she’d ever sink that low. But then he mentioned her butterfly tattoo, and Paul is gay and way too proper to be around naked women just because he’s harmless.

I roll over in bed and stuff my head underneath my pillow. God, if only I could drown out the thoughts. My room is almost completely dark. I can only make out the outlines of the furniture. Because my eyes have nothing to do, my brain flashes on Skylar’s face, her long auburn hair that’s slightly wavy if she dries it naturally, her smooth skin, her dark blue eyes that follow me around the room.

Fuck! The only thing worse than losing her is losing her because she’s not who I thought she was.

I can’t lie still anymore. I can’t have these thoughts in my mind on repeat. I will go crazy. I sit up, switch on the bedside lamp, and look around. When I look at the clock, it’s four in the morning. She’ll be waking up now, getting ready to be at the bakery at five. It’s Wednesday morning.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. I don’t care what she’s doing right now. I need a distraction.

What Paul said pops into my mind. Little underscore Minx. Her webcam name.

I get up and find my laptop, powering it up. If I can see what she did, see how bad it was, maybe it will be easier to get over her. Maybe, if I realize that she really isn’t the one for me, I will be able to get on with my life.

I open the web browser and type “Little_Minx” into the search bar.

The first results aren’t her. I have to sift through a couple of videos before I find her, but Paul was right. That butterfly is unmistakable.

It makes me feel better that she’s not popping up right away. There’s a lot of porn that does the rounds on the net, and she said it was a long time ago.

I click on one of her videos and wait for it to buffer. I don’t know what I’m feeling. Part of me is furious. Part of me is nervous about what I will find. Part of me is broken.

When the video starts, her face isn’t in it. It’s only from her neck downward. Her hair is tied up so I can’t even see that. She starts off with sexy lingerie and music, moving to the beat in a sultry way.

If I didn’t know her body as well as I do, it could be anyone. When she turns, the butterfly is visible, and it’s undoubtedly hers, but other than that, I can’t even tell that it’s her.

The video is hot, though. I have to admit to that. I’m getting hard watching it. But Skylar has always had something about her that makes me want her, something that makes her one of the most desirable people I’ve ever met.

When the video ends, I search for a date. When I find it, it’s dated ten years ago. This was when she was still studying, at the beginning of her adult life. We all make mistakes and bad choices, right?

I’m starting to wonder if I was too hard on her. I know I’ve said terrible things that I deeply regret now. I made her believe I thought she was a slut, that her intentions with me were only to get back at Paul. But I was also unfair when I told her I believed it wasn’t for the money.

I understand how hard it can be out there when you don’t have a trust fund like we did. I can just imagine how hard it must be to pay your own way through college.

Paul made it sound like she was a porn star, like she did it because she wanted to. I was stupid enough to believe my brother, even though he’d lied to me and everyone else about his love for Skylar and his sexuality. Paul was a black-and-white person, and he could be very malicious if he wanted to be. If he was bitter about me knowing about his being gay, I can imagine why he would want to throw Skylar under the bus.

Anything to draw attention away for him. And it worked, didn’t it? Since he’d told me, I hadn’t thought about him once.

I also understand why Skylar married him. Again, it wasn’t the best choice, but the idea that he would keep her secret is something I can understand.

I just wish she would have told me. Would I have told her if the roles were reversed?

Probably not.

I don’t know what to think, but I know I made a mistake. I kicked her out in a horrible way. I did to her what Paul had done. I said terrible things. I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have done. And I want to make it right.

I don’t know if we’ll be together. I know where we’ll go from here. What I do know is that I need to get her back.

First, I need to get some sleep. But before that, I search for the site admin and type a message. If there’s anything I can do, it’s throw around my weight because I have money and knowledge. And in this world, it’s all I need.

After I send the message, I switch off the light and lie down. I close my eyes and finally fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel better. I’m tired as fuck, but I feel better. I know what I need to do now.

I shower, shave, and get ready for work. When I arrive, I take care of a meeting. My employees are walking on egg shells around me, but they seem relieved that I didn’t shout at anyone by the time the meeting is over.

I walk to my office and close myself in. When I dial Skylar’s number, my stomach rolls. I’m nervous to talk to her. I have to apologize to her. I need to find a way to make it up to her.

Her phone rings a few times before it rolls over to voicemail. I try twice more, just in case she’s not with her phone.

When she still doesn’t answer, I resolve to go to the shop at lunch.

On my lunch break, I go to the bakery. It’s the one place where I know she’ll go.

When I walk up to Flour Girl, it’s quiet. The doors are shut, and the “Sorry, we’re closed” sign hangs in the door.

I frown. This isn’t right. Wednesday is a popular day for Skylar, and she’s been doing so well lately. She didn’t want to close for the weekend in Colorado. Why is she shut now?

I try her number again. Again, I’m forwarded to her voicemail.

When I don’t know what else to do, I phone Paul.

“Do you know where Skylar is?” I ask when he answers.

“Why would I know that?” he asks in a bored voice.

“Don’t be a dick, Paul,” I say. “It’s important.”

Paul sighs. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t heard from her. We don’t exactly talk anymore, not since I kicked her out.”

I’m starting to panic. I kicked her out, and now she disappeared. The shop is closed, and she’s not answering her phone. How the hell am I supposed to find her?

I dial the number on the shop window. I hear the phone ring inside the bakery. I knew that it would happen, but I had to try.

There’s no way I can find her. I don’t know her parents or where they live, and I’ve never met any of her friends. The only contact I had with her before was Paul. And now I have nothing.

I might have lost her completely, and it’s all my fault.

There’s nothing I can do to find her. LA is a big place, and I can hardly go around the streets searching for her. All I can do is go back to the office and make sure the rest of my world doesn’t fall apart because something in my personal life has gone wrong.

I don’t want to go to the office, though. I want to find Skylar. I want to tell her that I was wrong and that I’m sorry. I want to tell her that I love her. I want to ask her for a second chance.

Dammit!

I don’t know where I’m going to find her. When she married my brother, it hurt like hell, but I could still see her. I was furious, but I got over that. All of that, as bad as it felt back then, was better than this because I could still talk to her, hug her, and laugh with her.

What if I lose her forever? What if she never comes back?