His brow crinkled as if he didn’t understand the question.
“You broke up with Julia,” I said, still not moving from my place by the door. “Is that why you miss me? Because you’re alone now?”
He shook his head. “No. I missed you way before she and I ended things. Actually, Evie, I missed you within months of moving to be with her, but I knew you would never want me back. So, I tried to make it work with her, but, obviously I couldn’t.”
I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t lying to me. It was the same skill I’d used to figure out that he’d lied about cheating on me with her.
And he was also right. I wouldn’t have taken him back.
“I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say.
He stared at me, his gaze burning right through me, forcing me to keep my eyes locked on his. “Don’t you ever miss me, Evie?”
“I used to,” I admitted. “When you first left and for most of the first year you were gone.”
I tried to take my own life because I missed you, and our baby boy, and the life we should have had.
But he didn’t need to know that.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. This was everything I’d tried to avoid. It wasn’t as if we hadn’t talked around and around our break-up when it happened, so why go over it again when it was all so damn painful? We’d had our shot at making things work, and we’d failed.
“And then… you just stopped missing me?” he asked.
I shrugged, shaking my head. “What did you want? For me to never get over you? To spend every day of the rest of my life with regrets, punishing myself for everything that went wrong?”
He jumped up from the bed, rushing towards me because he knew instinctively that I was going to crumble from the weight of the memories pushing down on me. In that moment, I saw it all.
The look on his face the moment we were told our baby had died.
The feelings of devastation as I realised we would never get to watch our little boy grow up.
The nights we’d sobbed ourselves to sleep.
The days I’d spent doing nothing but feeling empty, sitting at home alone.
The arguments we’d had because we’d forgotten how to communicate.
The day he told me he was leaving.
My chest ached as if it were happening all over again. Jay took hold of my wrist and pulled me against him, wrapping his arms tightly around me, my head falling onto his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I hated that I felt like I was going to cry, because I’d had the best day. I’d got my tattoo, and I’d had fun with Ash, and I was having a good time at the party. But all of that started to get swept away, as a wave of loss crashed over me, wiping out everything I’d re-built for myself.
Jay gently stroked my hair as I tried to fight back my tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m such a selfish dick. I shouldn’t have come here.”
I wound my arms around him, the familiarity of him making me feel safe.
He’d been seeking the same thing as me. A way to put the pain behind him. Not the pain of losing our child; I knew that would never end. But the pain of us. Of our relationship and everything that had gone wrong. And while I was happier ignoring it, he’d
needed to face it. To face me.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“I know you don’t want to talk about the bad stuff, and we don’t have to if you don’t want to. Maybe just seeing you is enough.”