FOR TEN DAYS, I’d been living in fucking hell. Tessa was everywhere in my life and it was destroying me.
I’d been paying for a suite at the Mondrian for her for the last nine of those days. Every night before I fell asleep I promised myself the following day I would move her out of my house and into the hotel, and every day I didn’t follow through. I’m not even sure why. We were barely speaking and I avoided her like the plague, so it wasn’t because things were going well.
I was fucking miserable without her and every part of me fought against pushing her away, but it was the only responsible thing to do. I’d taken to driving around after rehearsal for hours and hours in order to avoid going home. I’d drive through the canyon to the beach listening to real pick-me-up songs like Coldplay’s “The Scientist,” Pearl Jam’s “Black,” U2’s “With or Without You,” and Matchbox 20’s “Back to Good.” I was about two seconds from going Goth, painting my nails black and singing songs about agony. At this point, I wanted to kick my own morose ass because it was so damn depressing.
My sister’s wedding to Spencer had been ridiculously difficult. It should have been a happy day, and certainly it was one that just two months ago hadn’t been an option since I’d been an only child. I was happy for Delilah, overjoyed to have discovered two sisters who had already set up residence in my heart, but I could barely access the joy anymore because all of my happiness was buried deep under layers of misery over what had happened with Tessa.
There wasn’t a minute since the night that I’d realized I was just a song on Tessa’s life CD I hadn’t desperately missed her. Every moment of our time together was locked in my head and it played out on a damn loop in my mind. I remembered everything, right down to the exquisite taste of her.
After I’d done the wedding songs for the happy couples and my Gram asked me to sing a love song that reminded me of Tessa, I’d played the song I’d been listening to over and over for the last ten days in between each of the rest of the other depressing songs I’d been listening to. Damien Rice’s ‘Cannonball’ expressed almost everything I was feeling, and I’d sung it from the heart.
Watching Tessa cry while I was singing made me want to break things. If the venue hadn’t been a wedding, I’d have smashed the fuck out of my guitar and then peeled out to go get piss drunk. Instead, I’d seen the song through to the bitter end, but afterward I was past done. I was taking Tess back to my house and telling her to pack her shit, no matter what. Enough was enough. I shouldn’t have even bothered to bring her to the wedding, and her crocodile tears pissed me off. She looked like I was stabbing her in the heart, but she was the one who didn’t want our relationship to be anything, not me, so fuck her.
If I had half a fucking brain, I’d have listened to Tyson the second he’d picked up on the fact something was wrong and had confronted me about it.
“No bitch is worth feeling like shit for, Flynn. If she’s making you feel like shit, she’s gotta go. Open the door and throw her stupid ass out. It’s not like there’s a shortage of available chicks around you can fuck at the drop of a hat. Pull the fucking monster out of your pants and get back to drilling and killing. Stop pining over a selfish bitch who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground. Love is for pussies. You got sucked in by a stupid bi…”
I’d picked him up and slammed him against a wall so fast, even I was surprised.
“Stop calling her a bitch, Tyson, or so help me, I’m going to beat you to death.”
Tyson wasn’t a scrawny guy, and if he’d wanted to, he could have given me just as good as I would have given him. Instead, he’d raised his hands in surrender.
“Okay dude, if it’s what you want, I won’t talk about her. Straight up—it’s a temporary reprieve. If you aren’t back to normal by the time the tour starts, all bets are off. I’m not signing off on the girl making you a miserable prick touring with us. This bullshit is not going to fly.”
I should have taken his words to heart and put her out. Instead I was stuck with her in my house for another night of torture.
I made excuses to my family about why we had to leave, pretending Tessa was suffering from a debilitating migraine. Gram wasn’t fooled, and I don’t believe my father was either, but they didn’t stop me.
Tessa was in the foyer waiting for me, and I grunted, “Out of here” as I stomped past her.
She struggled to keep up as I hauled ass to the car, but I didn’t offer to help her. I didn’t open the passenger door for her, either. A lifetime of ingrained manners sailed out of the window in a matter of seconds as I decided I just wanted to get as far away from her as humanly possible.
She barely, and I do mean barely, had herself in the car before I was peeling out of the driveway. Just knowing she was next to me, close enough to touch, close enough to smell, close enough to hear her breathing, infuriated me. I turned up the radio to ear splitting levels and drove like a demon to get back to my house as quickly as possible. I was done, and I needed her out of my life.
We got back to my house quickly, and after turning the car off and slamming my door as I exited, I tore into the house as I tried to get myself under control. I had my back to the kitchen door leading to the garage, taking deep breaths and getting my “It’s been nice, but you’ve got a suite at the Mondrian to move into so let’s make that happen ASAP” speech in order. I’d just about gotten it as good as it was going to get when I heard a crash behind me. Turning, I found Tessa on her hands and knees in between the door from the garage to the kitchen, the contents of her purse rolling around on the floor.
Instinct had me across the room to her in seconds, bending down to help her off the floor. It was clear she’d tripped coming through the door, and she needed some first aid for her scraped palms and a gash on her knee. She’d gone down hard on the hideous poured concrete floors, and I knew it had to have hurt like a bitch.
It made me feel like shit I hadn’t been enough of a gentleman to see her back into the house, because the sky-high heels she was wearing had to be difficult to navigate in. I opened my mouth to tell her I would help her up the stairs to where the first aid kit was, but the words died in my throat when I saw she was sobbing. She hadn’t fallen because of the fucking shoes; she’d fallen because she couldn’t see through her tears.
My heart hurt beneath the ice I’d encased it in, but I pushed down those feelings with every bit of self-preservation I had left. I realized it would be quicker to carry her up the stairs, so I lifted her up and did so. After I settled her on the bed, I went into the bathroom and got some antiseptic wipes and a Band-Aid for her knee. My hands shook the entire time I treated her wounds, but since she had her eyes closed, she didn’t notice.
“It’s all done, you should be fine,” I said. It came out gruff and unfriendly, but I didn’t really focus too much on it because I knew I needed to get the fuck away from her before my control snapped.
Deciding I needed to get out of the bedroom, I hauled ass to the door. I was too fucking weak to throw her out and I hoped maybe I’d ball up in the morning to lay down the law. As my hand grasped the doorknob, Tessa spoke.
“Wait.”
Grinding my teeth, I pivoted quickly and stood staring at her.
“What?”
She stared at me for a moment without a word, before blurting out, “This is it, isn’t it? We’re done. It’s obvious you want me to leave.”
She’d backed me into a corner, and it was time to shit or get off the pot. Pure anger took over, and words flew out of my mouth.
“Yeah, we’re done. I’ve rented you a suite at the Mondrian to stay in until the tour starts. I’ll have a car pick you up in the morning around ten. You can be ready by then, yes?”
Absolute calm had descended over her while I spoke, and she didn’t so much as flinch. Any hope I’d had that she’d tell me she didn’t want us to be over faded away.
Looking away from me, she nodded her head. “I can be ready by then.”
Glaring at the back of her head, I snapped, “Good. The sooner this is over, the better. Your timing is perfect because now I’ll be single for the tour. Unfortunately for you, there aren’t as many opportunities for women to pick up guys on the road so it will be harder for you, but if you need to let off steam, some of our roadies are available. They’ve always done well with the groupies we turn down.”
I exited the room without another word, slamming the door behind me.