This time I know it’s final.
Last time I had questions. I needed answers and closure.
This time I know all the facts, and closure is the only option.
As much as we love each other, love isn’t enough.
He can’t change who he is and I can’t accept what he is.
It’s one hell of a situation to be in; one where there is no winner, and the worst part about it is that I know he’ll be suffering, too.
Only he’ll be suffering alone, because I know he won’t have told anyone what happened between us. I smile sadly as I realise that I know him better than anyone.
He’ll be at the gym, or in a bar.
My mind takes me to a dark place, and I have to wonder… has he sought solace in another woman’s arms yet?
I get a visual of him making love to another woman and I scrunch my eyes shut to block it out. My poor heart hurts.
“Ben,” I whisper as my eyes fill with tears.
I’ve cried so many tears that I don’t know how I have any body fluids left.
I know we just got back together, but seeing as I’ve loved Ben for five years
the heartache doesn’t seem to equal the time we spent together.
It’s official… this is the worst kind of breakup. It would have been much easier if he played up on me, or told me he didn’t want me anymore.
At least then I could be angry. I could be furious that he treated me so badly, and I could go out and drink and have fun as payback. Hell has no fury like a woman scorned and all that.
But I know he’s alone in his apartment. Even if he is with another woman, he would still be alone because she won’t know him. She won’t know anything about him.
She won’t know how to make his pancakes just right, or that when he goes silent it’s because something is bothering him. She won’t know the way he looks at you when he loves you, even though he can’t tell you with words. I know for sure that she won’t know how to love him as much as I do… because it’s impossible. Nobody will ever know that.
The tears run down into my ears, and my companion is back. That painful lump in my throat comes and stays when I cry. I’m so rundown I got tonsillitis. It was so bad that I’ve had to go on a course of antibiotics to clear the infection. This whole month has been a disaster.
“Oh, Ben,” I whisper sadly. I know more than anyone how hard he’s had it, and yet… I just can’t get past this.
How can I? How could anyone?
Knock, knock, knock.
I blow out a breath and put my head back onto the lounge.
Just leave me alone already.
Tash and Abbie are hovering way too much. Joshua even told them to leave me alone this morning. He can see that I just want to be left alone. I know they mean well, but honestly.
I drag myself up and open the door, to find Brock standing there. “You look like shit,” he mutters dryly.
I look at him, deadpan. “You came all the way over here to state the obvious?”
He holds up a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream and smiles cheekily. “I brought supplies.”
“Yeah, because a hangover is just what I need.” I gesture for him to come in. He walks to the kitchen, grabs two glasses, and fills them with ice and the mocha fluid.
I sit back down on the lounge and he passes me my drink. I take a sip as he falls into place beside me.
“Hmm, yum.” I frown as I stare at the glass. “I haven’t had this for ages.”
“I thought I would repay the favour.”
“How so?”
“Don’t you remember? Bailey’s heart healer, you called it.”
I frown, not understanding.
“Alison Landers?”
I put my hand over my chest and chuckle. “Oh, my God. I haven’t heard that name in years.”
“Yeah, that bitch slayed me.” Brock sighs with a shake of his head.
He holds his glass up and I clink mine with his, and I laugh. “You dodged a bullet—she was a total bitch.”
“Hot bitch with a smoking vagina, though.”
I giggle. “True.” I sip my drink. “Hey, thanks.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “This is thoughtful of you.”
“Anything for my favourite PA.”
“Like you had so many other applicants for the position.”
He smiles, and we watch the television in silence for a moment.
“I’m glad you left him,” he states as his eyes stay fixed on the television.
I glance over to him and sip my drink. “What brought on this change of heart?”
He shrugs. “He’s a weak prick.”
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “He is not. Don’t speak about him like that,” I snap.
I can talk bad about him, but nobody else had dare say a bad word.