by J. Saman
“That’s it, right? Work over me.”
“That’s so goddamn unfair coming from you, but you’re right. Our work is our main focus and somewhere along the way, we’ve lost sight of each other. Of our relationship.”
“I haven’t,” I whisper, my voice heavy with tears and heartbreak. “I haven’t lost sight of you. Sure, I work my ass off, but I try to call you every day. I send you texts whenever I have a free minute. I come out to visit you even when I’m months behind on my production schedule. It’s you, Jameson, who has lost sight. But honestly, I don’t think you care enough to make the effort anymore.”
“That’s not true. I care so much about you. You’re the love of my life. The woman I want to marry and spend my life with. But I can’t give you what you need from me right now. I can’t. I’ve tried and all I do is disappoint you.”
Then why are you doing this?
I fall silent, unsure what to say next. Unable to ask the next series of questions. Unable to listen to his answers.
“I think I just need a break, baby. One small step back. Some time to figure all my shit out without the added pressure of trying to get out to California.” Without the added pressure of being with me, is really what you’re saying. “We’ll still talk. We’ll still be a part of each other’s lives. Just not what we are now. It’s not forever. In a few months, when you move here or things slow down for me, we’ll try again. This isn’t over. Or maybe if we stay together and slow down. I don’t know.”
I shake my head, knowing that will never happen. Knowing that this is an end and not a pause. Knowing that he’s deluding himself if he genuinely thinks anything different. I knew this would happen eventually. It’s what I always feared. It’s what had me sitting on that bench outside the business building in terrified tears. He promised me forever. I want to tell him he was a fucking liar, but words suddenly fail me.
“I can’t lose you completely,” he says and I just died. His words just killed me. Or maybe it was that one word. Completely. Meaning he can handle losing most of me. Or he doesn’t want to be the asshole who just breaks this off over the phone with the girl he’s been with for nearly two years. Jameson is the perpetual good guy. The dependable, reliable one. The one who tries to be everything for everyone. And I’m the woman who tears that all apart for him.
“I can’t keep you partially,” I tell him, mustering up every last piece of strength before it leaves me completely. “I can’t play the game where I love you, try to be in your life and not be with you. So, you need to make the call, Jameson. You have to be the one, because I can’t.”
“I wish you understood what this was like for me.”
“I do. That’s the problem with this. I understand what’s going on with your life. With your work. It’s so much for you and having to come here or find time to talk to me is only adding to your daily pressure. Just be a man and tell me the truth. Tell me what you want.”
I don’t give up when things get tough, I think but don’t say. I’m not about to beg him to be with me when he doesn’t want to. When he so clearly wants to end it.
“It’s just a break, Lee. It’s not forever.”
I end the call. I can’t hear anymore. I can’t hear him say anything else. Like goodbye. I’ll die for sure if I hear that. He doesn’t even call back. Not after five minutes or ten. I haven’t moved. I’ve been sitting here on my kitchen floor, staring at my phone, begging for his name to light it up. I unlock my phone, scroll through until I find the number and then I hit it. It rings a total of twice before he picks up. “I need you to come over. Bring Cass.”
Ethan clears his throat and then says, “We’re on our way.” Ethan is reliable. Cass, too. They’re here with me when I need them. All Jameson had to do was come. Even for twenty-four hours. I get, it’s not ideal and this was probably inevitable, but still. I can’t take it.
“Thank you.”
I disconnect the call, drop my phone to the floor and fall apart completely. Fuck you, life. Fuck you, distance and time. Fuck you, love. I hate you. I hate every single piece of you. I regret giving you power over me.
I shake my head at that. It’s easy to regret something wonderful when it hurts like this. When the pain and longing feel like they’re splitting you in two. Severing your heart from the rest of your body before smashing it to pieces with a wrecking ball. It’s easy to look back and hate the perfection you had. To loathe its former existence because the now might just be the worst thing you’ve ever felt. Do I regret these last five months of trying to make it work? No. Because hope was seeing me through, but now hope is gone.
Chapter 18
Jameson
* * *
My head presses into the exposed brick wall of my apartment, the abrasive unrelenting jagged edges digging into me do nothing to assuage my tormented thoughts. I hate everything. Seriously. That’s not even an exaggeration.
“I finished the contract,” Travers says from where he sits at my kitchen table, typing away on his computer. “I sent it to our lawyer to look over, but I think it’s good.”
“Awesome,” I deadpan.
“I don’t see why you’re not more excited about this,” Cane says, tossing a racquet ball off my wall before he catches it, only to repeat the motion. Thwap. Catch. Thwap. Catch. “This is the moment, dude. The one we’ve been after. The one where we officially acknowledge that we kick ass.”
I don’t respond. I should be happy. I should be over the goddamn moon. My father made me a senior partner in his firm today. He also said that he’s planning on retiring in another six months and that he’d like to start merging his company with mine as part of the transition. When he retires, he’s naming me as his successor. Translation? All of my father’s clients will become ours in addition to the ones we already have. As in, we’ll be a publicly traded company with a business net worth in the billions.
He was even open to altering the name of the company to reflect both.
But instead of feeling like I’ve won, all I can think about is how I lost. How I threw away the girl, because I got a little overwhelmed. How I was angry at her for being angry at me. For not understanding my shit better and agreeing to just take a small step back. I wasn’t ending it. I really wasn’t. That was the last thing I wanted. But that’s exactly how she took it.
And really, I can’t blame her. I know it’s how it sounded. But I just…shit, I couldn’t think of anything else to do. All I was doing was hurting her and that was like a perpetual knife to the gut. I thought if I we went back to a place without expectations and demands on our time, like we had before, then maybe we’d get through it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so goddamn hard.
Day by day. That’s all I wanted. Isn’t that what I said to her? I honestly couldn’t remember when she hung up. I was too damn indignant. To stubbornly prideful. Too fucking stupid.
“Just fly out to California already,” Cane says, his tone indifferent and careless, like the words he’s saying don’t have consequences that reach deeper than he knows. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl back to her. Tell her you were an idiot for breaking up with her, beg her for forgiveness and move on with your goddamn life. Seriously. You’ve been a moping, wreck of a man for the last six months. It’s getting hard to watch.”
“Back off,” Trav says, not pulling his eyes away from the screen.
“No,” Cane says, catching the ball and holding on to it as he glares daggers into Travers in a way that makes me think they’ve had this conversation a time or two before. “Someone needs to finally say it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to be a clamgina when you do.”
“Clamgina?”
“Yep,” Trav says, twisting in his chair to face Cane with a big grin. He’s trying to make me smile. He’s trying to cheer me up. Little does he know there is no light in my dark tunnel. If this is what depression or self-loathing—or a combination of both—feels like, then they can also go fuck themselves.
“That’s p
retty freaking nasty, bro,” Cane says before he tosses the ball back against my wall. Thwap. Catch. Thwap. Catch.
Travers shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t help it if that’s exactly what you’re being.” Then he spins to me. “But the man does have a point. In all honesty, I’m shocked you’ve lasted this long.”
“She doesn’t want me anymore.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Right. Because she’s suddenly fallen out of love with you.”
“She changed her number.” I look down at my hands, unable to watch as they exchange glances. Lyric did change her number. I texted her a few months later and she never texted back and when I called, I got that automated recording thing that notifies dickheads like myself that the girl they’re obsessed with changed her goddamn number on them. That the person you’re trying to reach no longer wants anything to do with you.
“So, you’re just going to be a pussy and eat that? She was pissed at you. Rightfully so, I might add.”
I don’t even bother to glare. He’s right.
“Go to California. It’s Friday and you don’t have to work tomorrow. For once. Just go.”
It’s not like that thought hasn’t lived in my brain every day for the last six months. And really, at this point, what do I have to lose? “All right. Fuck it. I’m going. Book me a flight while I pack a bag,” I say to Travers, who’s still on the computer.
“On it, boss. And for the record, you owe us.”
I flip them off and run into my bedroom to pack a bag. It’s not late yet, I might be able to catch a ten-p.m. flight. I fly out the door not even ten minutes later. I’m impatient and restless the entire ride to the airport and that’s only amplified when I get to the airport and have to wait through security, especially since my flight time is close.
But I make it just as they’re calling final boarding. I take my aisle seat, relieved that it’s not a middle, and settle in for the long flight. I try Lyric again. I get the same recording informing me that the previous owner of this number has changed it. I sigh, leaning back into my small uncomfortable seat.
Goddammit, Lee. At least I know where you live.
That I know hasn’t changed. She’d never leave her father’s Malibu house. She loves it there. And I haven’t ever seen it. Not once. Every single time I was supposed to fly out to see her, I canceled. I put work, everything, before her. She stuck by me. Continued to love and support me. And what did I do to repay her for that unconditional love? I fucking told her I needed a break.
A sick knot of regret twists in my stomach. What a bastard I was. How arrogant to think that she’d just keep taking the shit I was shoveling at her. That she’d always be there for me when I wasn’t there for her. I don’t blame her for changing her number. I don’t blame her for cutting me out of her life. And honestly, if she doesn’t want to see me after all this time, six goddamn months, I won’t blame her for that either.
How could I have been so callous with someone so precious?
I realize in this moment that I might have truly blown it. It wasn’t something I allowed myself to think before. I always believed we’d find our way back to each other, but now, sitting here on this plane with my heart in my hands, I wonder if I’m too late.
I somehow manage to fall asleep on the plane after I plugged in my earbuds and listened to the new Cyber’s Law album that she produced. It stayed at number one for six weeks and has been in the top ten for twelve. I was so unbelievably proud when it came out at number one. And when I called her to congratulate her, to tell her that I think she’s the most incredible woman in the world, well, that’s when I found out that she had changed her number.
I land at around one in the morning California time, which means it feels like it’s four for me. I rent a car and drive to her house, which takes me almost another hour. And by the time I find her modern-style house in the private neighborhood I have no business being in, and park my car on the street, it’s beyond late. And the house is completely dark.
Shutting off the engine so I don’t draw attention to myself, I roll down the windows and listen to the sounds of the ocean that’s on the other side of her house. I have no idea what homes go for in a neighborhood like this, but I know its mega millions. I’m about to get out and go see if I can find my way down to the beach without getting the cops called on me, when a sleek black car pulls into the small driveway, parking right in front of the double garage.
A tall, somewhat built guy with features I’m unable to make out in the darkness gets out first before he runs around to the passenger side. He opens the door and then I watch with rapt attention as he leans in and helps Lyric out of the car. They stand there for a moment, speaking, then he wraps his arms around her as she tucks her head into his chest.
I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can only watch as this man holds Lyric. My Lyric. They pull apart and he maintains one arm around her, tucking her into his side as they walk up to her front door. Together. He doesn’t release her, even as she’s opening the door. She flips on some lights, bathing them both in a warm glow that gives me the perfect angle to see them. His hair is light brown and short. His clothes—a navy button-down and dark slacks—look expensive.
Lyric is smiling up at him. But it’s more than a smile. It’s the smile she gives the people she cares about. The people who mean something to her. They speak more words that I cannot hear and then I watch as she laughs at something he’s saying. He leans in and kisses her, whether it’s her cheek or her lips, from here, I can’t tell. She nods her head and then the door shuts.
Two minutes later, the light in one of the upstairs bedrooms clicks on and I can’t look anymore. I can’t watch when that light shuts off and he’s alone with her in the dark. I can’t watch, knowing that he’s with her and I’m not. That he’s fucking my girl. That it’s him in there instead of me. Jealousy roars through me, monstrously ugly and dangerously violent. My fists clench and my eyes water and I’m going to be sick.
How could she do this? How could she have moved on so fast? I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since she came into my life and yet, not even a half a year apart, and she’s already with someone else. Because that’s how that moment looked. He wasn’t some new guy that she picked up at a bar. He held her tenderly. He touched her sweetly. He motherfucking made her laugh and she gazed up at him like he’s her everything.
My fists pound into the steering wheel over and over and over.
In all the ways I envisioned coming here to her, seeking her out and making her mine once more, I never once pictured her with another man. Never. I feel like I just went fifty rounds with a prize fighter. I feel like nothing will ever be right again. How can it be when she’s not with me? I did this. This is all on me.
I didn’t just let her slip through my fingers, I pushed her away.
I get out of the car, slamming the door behind me and not even caring if the police come. I walk up to her driveaway and I stare up at the dark house. It’s all glass balconies and sharp lines. I’m half tempted to scale up to one of the balconies. I don’t hear any sounds coming from the house. It’s dead quiet, but there is no comfort out here for me tonight.
“Lee,” I whisper, feeling like a fool as the sound slips past my lips. I should get back into that car and go. Nothing can come from me slinking around her house like a creepy stalker. The sound of waves crashing on the shore pulls me along the narrow side of her house. The neighbor’s house is only a few feet away and I do my best to stay close to Lyric’s as my sneakers crunch into the soft smooth sand.
It’s dark as hell out here. There are very few lights coming from the other houses and the beach and ocean are black. I don’t dare go any further than the raised pillar that holds the back of her house up and out of the sand. The February wind is cool, but not unpleasant. California is so very different from New York.
Then it hits me. Hard and fast like a racecar crashing into the wall of the track. Nothing has changed. I still live in New York and Lyr
ic still lives in California. Even if she weren’t upstairs with that douchebag, what would I have to say to her? Hey, let’s give this long-distance crap another shot since it didn’t work out so well the first or second time? Sure, I sorta kinda have more time now. I’m no longer going to be working two full-time jobs now that they’re turning into one, but it would still mean regular cross-country treks. It would still mean missed phone calls and forgotten texts.
It would still mean that Lyric and I are not together.
Do I want that for her? Can I even ask something like that when I was so horrible at it before? I hate that she’s with someone else. Hate it to the depths of my soul, but I don’t want her to be alone. I don’t want her to be unhappy. And right now, I don’t have anything new or special to offer her. I could leave my job. I could try and find something out here. I could do that. I’ve even looked a few times. But it won’t be near what I have going on in New York.
Do I care about that? Yes and no.
She’s found someone new, I remind myself.
I sigh, deep, long and loud, staring out into the abyss that is as black and bleak as my soul. I’m going to let her go. I’m going to let her be happy and have it all, and I’ll go home to New York and try to tell myself that this is for the best. That this pain and regret won’t eat me alive from the inside out. That it won’t become a permanent fixture in what now feels like an empty meaningless existence. That I’ll also meet someone else eventually and move on with my life.
I tell myself that over and over again as dawn slowly creeps across the sky and lights up the dark blue water. And before Lyric and her…guy have a chance to wake up and catch me here, I force myself to leave. To walk away from the only woman I could ever imagine loving.