After You (Because of You 2)

Oof, ouch. God. Why is my brain so vengeful?

Rubbing my suddenly tight chest, I try to shake off Derek’s influence and all the hopes and dreams he brings with him. You can’t have that, Nikki. Focus on what you can have—what you do have.

I take a sip of coffee and refocus. Derek shouldn’t have even written on my to-do list, because he shouldn’t have been reading it, the damn snoop. At least he was a helpful snoop, but a snoop all the same.

The first thing I do is check my emails, like always. This time I have to check an additional email—my author email. One of the blogs posting teasers for Dreamcatcher wants to do an author interview to share on the blog this week. I open the attachment to check out the questions. It’s one less thing I’ll have to do later, so I go ahead and start responding.

When you’re not writing, what do you like to do? What are your other hobbies?

Other hobbies? I don’t have time for other hobbies. My fingers hover above the keys, my brow furrowing as I try to figure out how to respond to this. Of course since Nikki Reid hasn’t published a book in over a year, she would have time for hobbies.

I skip the question and go on to the next until my brain block goes away and I can come up with an answer, but it’s another hard one.

I absolutely fell in love with Janie and Eric in your Forever trilogy. What inspired you to write their story?

Skip.

I answer the next question, but when I get to the last one, it’s the hardest.

Any hints as to what we can expect from you after Dreamcatcher?

Maybe nothing? Can’t say that, since I have no idea whether or not I’ll write anything else. In case I’m randomly hit by another crush of inspiration a year from now, don’t want to close that door.

Damn, woman, can’t you give me easier questions? I know it wouldn’t be hard for a career author, but it’s too difficult for me. Instead of answering, I save the document and close the email. I’ll do this later. This interview wasn’t even on my to-do list today.

The woman handling my PR needs my next nine Instagram posts for Nikki Reid so she can take care of posting them for me. I throw those together and send them to her.

It’s nearly noon by the time I get to my publishing work. It’s some house between late night and early morning when I finally finish. The very last item on today’s docket is to clean off my desk. It’s been a while, and to say it’s a mess would an understatement.

As I get to the bottom of the disaster station, I pick up a stray sheet of notebook paper. The top of it reads “What makes a life worth living?” I remember this—it’s from that TED talk I made Henry watch with me. My eyes travel down the page. The lecture was focused on creative works, aimed at creative types. When I look at these notes, I have all the standard components of a well-lived life. I’m never bored or apathetic. I’m intellectually stimulated by my work. On paper, I have everything important. My business is successful, I get in the zone and write books that further stimulate me when I need a creative outlet. I own my own home, and while my social life may not be booming, that’s by choice. I’m not a people person, and I conquered loneliness a long time ago.

Then I let Derek back in, though. He infiltrated my isolation and if I’m being honest, now that he’s gone, in the quiet moments, I feel it again. As long as I keep myself busy, I can outrun it, though.

A thought occurs to me that strangely never occurred to me before. Maybe I was always only outrunning the loneliness. Maybe I thought I had conquered it, but only because I kept myself too busy to ever experience my own feelings.

My gaze drifts to my cell phone. I grab it, press the home button to open it, then hit my little green message icon. I stare at Derek’s name for a minute, then tap the message There are no new messages, but I scroll up, rereading him begging me not to do what I’m doing, not to push him away. Even though I read it already, my heart seizes and my eyes tear up on the message I’ll never be able to erase from my memory, even if someday I erase it from my phone.

“Tell me what you need from me, Nikki. You need me to move there? I will sell my house and move there. You need me to show you I’m committed to you? I would marry you tomorrow. I’m sorry I answered your fucking question wrong, Nikki, but my priority is you. I want a family with you, I want to make a life with YOU. No one else. You and Cassidy are all that matters, and she comes with me, so I just need you on board. Whatever I have to do to make that happen, I will. I just… I’m out of ideas. Please tell me what you need this time, and I will make it happen.”

I understand that desperation to make it work at all costs all too well. I used to feel that way about him, once upon a time.

Is it crazy that I miss that? I wish I could still be so reckless with my heart. I wish I still lived in a world where I could believe maybe Derek wouldn’t rip my heart to shreds if I let him have it again, but I can’t. I literally can’t give it to him, even if I want to. There’s a failsafe inside me now and he tripped the alarm. Every wall I’ve ever built, every wall he busted down, they erected themselves all over again, thicker and higher than ever, as soon as he couldn’t tell me he wouldn’t let Kayla beat me again. Even if I could have found the courage to let myself have him again, I can’t now. Not knowing that.

Maybe in another life I can catch him before he makes the mistake that destroys any chance we have of happiness together.

Maybe in another life he’ll be faster, and I won’t be able to outrun him.

Not this life, though.

Not this one.

---

Even without Derek a part of it, life goes on.

He doesn’t text, or call, or show up on my doorstep again. It’s probably wrong of me to feel vindicated since he tried so hard this time, but a little voice inside my head tells me, “You were right to protect yourself. He swore he would never give up on you, but look—he did.”

It’s not something I’m proud of, but my brain can be a real bitch sometimes.