God I Hate that Man

Great. He blows all of this shit up then runs away and leaves me to deal with the fallout.

“Ashley,” I call, taking a step towards her.

“Don’t come any closer, Finn,” she commands in a low voice. “And don’t even fucking think about touching me.”

“You don’t understand,” I start.

“I understand perfectly well,” she snaps, cutting me off before I can even begin to explain. “You weren’t sure the money was enough of a reason for me to go through with this, so you played with my feelings, and made me believe there was something between us. You’re a complete and utter bastard Finn Jagger, and I hate you. I absolutely hate you.” She turns and runs.

I start to chase after her, but she’s got a good head start. I really didn’t see the running coming and she’s already almost all the way across the room before I enter. I step around a waiter who tries to give me a glass of champagne, and by the time I get around him, she’s gone.

I think maybe it’s for the best. If I try to talk to her now, we’ll only end up fighting. I decide to give her time to get home and cool down and then I’ll go to her when I get home and we’ll talk. We desperately need to talk.

I leave ten minutes after Ashley leaves the party. It’s as long as I can bear to wait. I feel sick every time I think of the way she looked at me when she thought I was just playing with her. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t give a shit about the wedding. If we cancel it, we cancel it. But I need Ashley. I need her right by my side every day and every night. And I’m ready to tell her that.

I walk through the apartment and look in my bedroom, even though I know Ashley won’t be in there. She’ll have gone back to the guest bedroom to lick her wounds there. I move down the hallway to the guest bedroom and knock on the door.

Silence.

“Ashley, we need to talk.”

Still silence.

“Ok, I’m coming in.”

I wait a moment and then I take a deep breath and push the door open.

She’s not there. The wardrobe doors are open and two of the drawers in the chest of drawers are open. And they’re all empty.

Ashley has gone and the only thing remaining that tells me she was ever really here is the Lee Childs book she borrowed. It sits on the center of the duvet, mocking me as my heart breaks.

20

Finn

I’ve spent the whole weekend calling Ashley, leaving voicemails for her when she refuses to answer the calls. I’ve been sending her text messages and emails, all of which she has chosen to ignore. I have to see her, have to speak to her. Even if she still tells me to go to hell, at least I’ll know I tried, and she’ll know I wasn’t using her.

At no time did I do that.

For all of Saturday and Sunday, I keep hoping she’ll show up, and every time my phone rings, I answer it on the first ring letting myself hope it will be her, but she never shows up and none of the calls are from her.

I go into the office both days, which has become unusual for me over the last few weeks because now I finally have something to live for outside of the office.

I barely slept over the weekend, working until well after midnight and coming back to the office before six am. The apartment is just too quiet without her. Even at the office, a place that’s always been my sanctuary, somewhere I can just forget all of my problems. To switch off, and just throw myself into my work, I’m suffering. I’m doing what needs to be done, but I feel like I’m just going through the motions, just doing things on autopilot.

No matter where I am or what I’m doing, all I can think about is Ashley.

I keep thinking of her arms and legs wrapped around me, her body glistening with sweat as I rock her world. I hear her moaning my name as she comes. Her face, like an angel above me. I can’t believe I was blind enough to think she wasn’t attractive when I first met her. She’s easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.

When I’m not thinking about sex and Ashley’s body, I’m thinking about her musical laughter, about the passion in her eyes when she talks about her charity and the way she throws herself into the path of danger at the drop of a hat if one of her kids needs her. The way she goes above and beyond for them.

Even in the few hours of restless sleep I have over the weekend, I don’t have any reprieve from the mental torment of her. I dream of her constantly. In it, we are always having sex. Great sex. I tell her I love her and she says she loves me too. Then she laughs, a sound that echoes back to me a thousand times. Then I wake up and remember it was only a dream and the reality is… she hates me.