Only One Chance (Only One 2) - Page 70
I cry for the man who I fell in love with but never got a chance to tell him.Chapter 30Miller“Get the fuck out of here,” I hiss at her. My heart shatters in my chest, the pain more than I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to hurt her as much as she hurt me. I want to roar out at anyone who gets in my way. My hands shake with the nerves that run through me.
I’m the husband. The three words that ended it all. Three totally different words than what I was going to tell her this weekend. I stood there, stunned. My heart beats so hard in my chest, and my mouth is dry. My head’s spinning, not sure I understood. This man is her husband. The woman who I’ve fallen in love with is married.
I slam the door behind me, my back collapsing on it. Seeing her there looking more beautiful than she has ever before. The tears streaming down her face while she said he was her ex-husband. My stomach lurches at the thought of her married to someone. The lone tear escaping from my eyes. I listen as the car door shuts, and I listen to her drive away. Driving away from me, away from us.
Walking straight to the liquor cabinet, I grab the bottle of scotch. Unscrewing the cap, I don’t even bother with a glass. I take three long gulps. The burning of my throat spreads to my chest and then to my stomach. I put the bottle down and close my eyes, but it just makes it that much worse. All I can see is her face, her beautiful fucking face with tears running down the same cheeks I kissed four days ago. The same cheek I rub with my thumb when she sits next to me, and I want to touch her.
I open my eyes again, and this time, I drink another three gulps. The burning is much less this time than the last. Grabbing the bottle, I make my way over to the window and walk outside. The sound of the pool fills the yard. I look up at the sky, wondering how this day started so good but ended up the worst day of my life.
Closing my eyes again doesn’t help because all I can do is play the last month over and over again. The quiet nights with just the two of us. The nights spent out laughing at everything and nothing. Her face when she sleeps. Her face when she is happy. I drink more of the scotch, trying to erase all the memories. Trying to erase her from my heart.
Walking back inside, I don’t even bother going to my bedroom, knowing it’ll be worse in the place where it still smells like her. Instead, I sit on the couch with the lights off. In the darkness, I drink until my eyes can’t stay open. I look down at the almost empty bottle and try getting up to get another one. But I fall back onto the couch, and the bottle slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor. I hear the shatter, but all I can do is lie down on my back. My hand’s on my chest, resting over my pounding heart, and I wonder how it can beat when it’s broken. “Why?” I ask the white ceiling that is now spinning. “Why?” No one answers me as my eyes slide shut.
Nothing helps when my eyes close in a drunken stupor, and nothing helps when I hear her laughter in my head. Nothing helps when I hear her moan my name. Nothing helps when I hear her sob out as if she is right next to me. My eyes shoot open to find I’m still in the darkness. I’m still in my own living hell.
I roll to my side, and as soon as my feet hit the floor, I hear the sound of crunching glass. “Fuck.” I get up, not sure if I can actually walk. I stumble on the way to the closet that holds the vacuum, and only when I can’t pull it out do I give up. Instead, I go over to grab another bottle of scotch, and this time, I walk on the other side of the couch. My phone beeps from my pocket, and I take it out and see I have missed calls. My eyes only focus on the word gorgeous.
My finger rolls over the name, and I open it and block her number. My stomach roils, and I think I’m going to be sick. I close off the phone and then open it again only to see the picture of us staring at the camera laughing. The pain in my heart is so strong that I look down to see if I have blood seeping out of my chest.
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