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“You’re breaking up with me?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes. ”
Her words are tinged in ice, her backbone ramrod straight. Defiance pours out of her eyes, daring me to argue with her.
Fuck that… I’m arguing.
“Want to clue me in on why we are over? Because as far as I remember, this morning you were crawling into my bed, telling me you loved me. ” My words are just as icy as hers, my anger building fiercely inside.
“Does it matter?” she asks with aggression.
“Fuck yeah, it matters,” I snarl at her. “You break up with the person you supposedly love, you better have a f**king good reason. ”
Her eyes dart away from mine, once again sad and uncertain. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something going on inside of her that is fueling this ridiculousness. If I can figure out what it is, grab ahold and pull it out of her, I can salvage this fiasco.
Taking a step toward her, I soften my voice, “Gabs… please tell me what’s wrong. We can fix it. ”
It’s still there… for just a brief moment, the look of uncertainty and sorrow, but then it’s gone—vanished. When her eyes meet mine again, I know it’s gone for good. In its place is resolve and determination, such as I’ve never seen on her face before, and dread overwhelms me.
“You slept with Sasha last night,” she throws at me, and it’s a blind side I didn’t see coming, hitting me so powerfully I physically jerk backward.
“Are you f**king nuts?” I bellow, outraged that she would even make such an accusation.
“No,” she says quietly. “Sasha told me. She was waiting for me outside by my truck when I left you this morning. ”
My mind starts spinning, frantically searching for clues as to what the hell is going on, and how in the world I landed in this mess. It hits me hard… the way Sasha was acting today. Refusing to meet my eyes, mumbling responses. She acted as if she couldn’t get out of here fast enough today when she and John were leaving.
“Son of a f**king bitch,” I yell, clasping my hands on top of my head and looking in vain up to my ceiling in a silent plea for some type of help from God above.
Dropping my hands, I spin to Gabby and pin her with a hard stare. “And you believed it?”
“Yes,” she says, her hands now clasped and wringing together.
“You f**king believed it?” I shout, taking a step toward her.
She takes a step back but tilts her chin up at me. “Yes. ”
Fury such as I have never felt flows like lava through my veins. Some of that rage is for Sasha, for being spiteful enough to outright lie to Gabby and jeopardize my relationship. But most of that anger is reserved for Gabby, because she should have never believed it of me. She should have trusted me and, moreover, she should have come to me the minute Sasha filled her head with those lies.
Turning away from Gabby, because looking at her right now is not causing my rage to subside, I start to pace back and forth, racking my brain for a solution to this madness.
Stopping suddenly, I turn to her. “It’s a lie. ”
“Maybe,” she says, her hands wringing hard against one another. “But it’s given me enough doubt that I can’t continue on with you. ”
I stare at her in disbelief. “I don’t believe this. I really can’t f**king believe this. You’ve known me your entire life. You gave your body to me… you gave your f**king heart to me. And you believe Sasha over me?”
“She sounded convincing,” she says lamely.
“And I don’t sound f**king convincing?” I roar, thumping a fist against my chest. “Do I not sound like I’m telling you the truth?”
She flinches and I instantly regret yelling at her, but I’m spinning so fast out of control that I can’t rein it in. Then she practically drives me to my knees when she says, “It’s my experience that the man who protests the loudest is usually hiding the most. ”
My jaw hangs open as I look at her. The woman that I thought that loved me… she’s gone. Vanished.
In her place is someone I don’t recognize. Because the Gabby Ward that I love, the one I’ve known most of my life, would never believe a practical stranger over someone she loved. It’s not possible.
I take a step back and fall onto the couch, hopelessness coursing through me. I’m beaten down, no way to defend myself, no way to reach through her thick skull.
“You’re wrong about this, Gabs,” I whisper, looking up at her with pleading in my eyes.
She stares at me a moment, sorrow filling her gaze. “I’m not. ”
Leaning my head back against the couch, I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. I open my mind up and beg for something to come to me… for an idea on what to do next.
I’m empty. Completely, f**king empty.
“I talked to Keith this morning,” she says, and the statement is so out of place in the context of our conversation, I know I must have heard wrong.
Lifting my head up, I narrow my eyes at her. “You talked to Keith?”
“Yes. I’m sure you know, but there’s a pro event in Fiji at the end of next week. He’s booked you a ticket. You’re flying out of Raleigh in two days. ”
I stare at her, my eyes searching her face hard to try to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. “Why the f**k would I go to Fiji?” is the only thing I can think to say.
“Because there’s no reason for you to stay here anymore,” she says simply.
“You’re here,” I tell her to point out the obvious. “Why would I go when you’re here?”
“Because we’re no more. ”
“Maybe I’ll work to change your mind. Maybe I’ll f**king drag Sasha’s ass back here, and we’ll confront this lie head on. ”
A brief flash of panic flitters across her face, but then I think I must have imagined it because steely resolve sets in stone once again. “You can do that if you want, but I won’t be here. ”
“Why not?” I ask with dread.
“Because I accepted that job in Raleigh. I start next week. ”
Utter hopelessness washes through me, and suddenly I feel tired to my very bones. My voice is low, quiet… ironically calm. “This is really happening, isn’t it? We’re really over?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I stare at her, letting my eyes roam her face. The face I’ve seen a million times… in laughter, in sorrow, in pleasure. Now… it’s looking at me impassively, her eyes cold and distant. I stare at her hard, letting that look burn into me, willing it to replace all those other images. She tries to hold my gaze but eventually it’s too much for her, and her eyes slide down to the carpet.
I wait for her to look back up at me. For her to tell me that this whole f**ked-up scenario is some terrible joke gone awry.
But she doesn’t.
“Get out,” I tell her softly, watching her eyes fly back up to me.
She just stands there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I’m not sure what her hesitation is, because she’s flayed me down to my soul. The longer she stares at me, the hotter the acid burns in my veins.
“Get. The Fuck. Out,” I repeat, and the menace in my voice shocks her back to reality. She spins away and runs to the door, throwing it open and hurling herself outside. When I hear the door slam shut, I close my eyes once again and try to figure out what all I need to do to get ready to leave for Fiji.
25
My phone rings, bringing me out of my stupor. I roll over in my bed and pick it up, seeing the word “Casey” on the screen. I want to ignore it, but I can’t. Casey’s worried sick about me, and it pains me to be the cause of that.
“Hey Casey,” I say softly as I connect the call.
“You’re still lying in bed, aren’t you?” she demands.
“Yes,” I tell her, because I’m in exactly the same spot I was yesterday when she called me. Today’s the day Hunter’s flight left for Fiji and the knowledge has me so mire
d in despair and darkness, I can only manage to pull myself up to go to the bathroom before tumbling back down into the comfort of my bed.
After I broke up with Hunter two days ago, I immediately went home, put on my pajamas, and crawled into bed. I told Savannah that I didn’t want to be disturbed, and I locked my bedroom door.
Within less than an hour, Casey showed up and was banging to gain entrance. I ignored her, even as I could hear her sit down on the floor outside my bedroom and talk to me. She told me that Hunter had called her, told her that he was leaving, and that we had broken up. She was freaked… I get that. But I ignored her and, after about half an hour, she left. I rolled over and went to sleep, not waking up until the next morning.
Then the calls started. Repetitively. Casey was the worst, calling me at least every fifteen minutes. My mom called. Hunter’s mom called. Alyssa called. Even Brody called once, but only that one time. I was shocked as hell when Sasha even called, but I ignored that too. Savannah knocked on my door a few times, offering to bring me food, but I politely declined.
Finally, last night, I answered Casey’s call, mainly because I knew I was worrying the hell out of everyone, and I didn’t want to do that. Her first words were, “Oh honey… tell me everything,” and then I started sobbing.
I couldn’t talk for almost five minutes, so Casey filled me in on what she knew, which was next to nothing. Hunter had apparently called her and told her that we had broken up, but not the reason why, and that he was going to Fiji. My heart ached mostly, that we were over and he was leaving, but there was a tiny part of me that was happy that he was taking his shot to get back on the tour.
When I calmed down enough, I basically told Casey the same thing, that for reasons I didn’t want to discuss right now, that Hunter and I were indeed over. I did not tell her about my lie to make Hunter leave, nor did I tell her that I lied to him about me taking the job in Raleigh. I figured I would handle that duplicity at a later time, when my brain was more alert and not mired in depression.
Casey then cooed and soothed me over the phone, assuring me that it would be all right. But I knew it would never be all right again. My heart was broken, and there was nothing that would ever put it back together again.
“How are you feeling today?” she asks, jarring me back to the present.
Sighing, I say, “Like shit. ”
Laughing, she says, “Well, the only way to get past that is to come hang out with your bestie today. ”
“No way,” I tell her adamantly. “I’m lying in bed and refusing to brush my teeth. My goal is to let a fur carpet start to grow. ”
“That’s gross, Gabby, and completely unacceptable. If you don’t get showered, get your teeth brushed, and get your ass down to Last Call in one hour, I’m coming to get you. And don’t think that a locked bedroom door will keep me out. I could have had that lock picked the other day in about five minutes flat, but I was respecting your need to grieve. ”
“I’m still grieving,” I grumble.
“That may be so, but you’re going to stop that process as of today. ”
“No,” I pout. “I’m not coming. ”
“One hour,” she says ominously, and then disconnects the call. I stare at the phone, blinking, and disbelieving she just hung up on me. My first reaction is to thumb my nose at her, roll back over, and go to sleep, but then my stomach rumbles and I realize it’s been almost two days since I’ve eaten. Then my heart rumbles, and I realize that maybe what I really need is to get stinking drunk to help ease the ache that has been lodged in my chest since I broke up with Hunter.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and then pull myself up off the bed. I decide I need to get on with my life, and the first step is to indeed go hang out with my bestie and get rip-roaring drunk, so I can toast the end of my relationship with Hunter.
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