I didn’t want you to leave without it. Not, I don’t want you to leave.
He’s done.
I swallow the biggest lump in my throat, trying to hold it together in front of him. “Thank you,” I say, my voice a mere whisper . . . choked.
He takes another step back and as if my heart is attached to a string being dragged by his foot, it follows along.
“Sure. If I missed anything, I’ll, uh, mail it.”
I shake my head, trying to plaster on a fake smile, but it comes out weak and ineffective. “No need.” I stare down into the bag, seeing a shampoo bottle, my body lotion . . . and a shirt. He could have thrown this out. He could have done anything with it, other than bring it here where I got my hopes up. Where I thought his presence meant forgiveness. “If I, uh,” I swallow hard again, “haven’t noticed it’s missing in a few weeks . . . probably don’t need it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He scratches the top of his head and takes one more step back. “I should go.”
My teeth chatter, my lips tremble and before he can leave, I call out, “Wait, Jason.” A stray tear falls onto my cheek and I quickly swipe it away as I try to gather myself. When he looks at me, I take a deep breath and say, “I want you to know—”
Shaking his head, he says, “Let’s not say anything, okay?” I suck in a breath. Right. Say nothing.
Devoid of emotion, he turns his back toward me and walks out of the office door . . . but not before knocking on the doorframe as what? A final parting goodbye?
Then he leaves.
Just like that.
Out of my world.
I collapse into a chair and bury my head into my hands as anguish trickles up my spine, sending a wave of heat and humiliation through my veins.
Burning embarrassment and regret consume me.
Shame and self-hatred eat me alive.
And as I sob into my hands, I realize the one thing I cared about the most in this world, just walked out of my door without a care that I’ll be moving away from him.
It’s over.
“Are you sure you want to drive this to California yourself?” Emory asks, looking at my small moving truck. I only packed the things that mattered to me. Furniture was donated. No need to be reminded of all the surfaces Jason and I had fun on.
“Yes.” I nod, eyes burning from all the tears I’ve shed over the past few days while finishing my packing. It seemed Jason’s impromptu visit not only unleashed a dam of emotions, but it burned a hole deep inside me, one that I don’t think will ever be repaired.
Foolish me. I can say I tried. I can also say his passion when things are great translates to exuberance, which turns to desolation when things are bad . . . and that I did that to him. And maybe, he gave me some of his passion, his experience of emotions, because I haven’t stopped aching within.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “It will give me some nice alone time to think.”
Emory bites her bottom lip and says, “I’m worried about you, Dottie.”
“Don’t be.” I give her the best smile I can muster. “I’ll be fine.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Am I?
I wipe at my eyes and feel wetness on my fingers. Clearing my throat, I say, “Sad that I won’t see this baby grow inside of you.” I glance over her shoulder, at the entrance to her building for any familiar figures.
I said goodbye to Lindsay at her place, then drove to Knox and Emory’s to have one final goodbye. Did I wish I’d see Jason and a miracle would occur and he’d tell me not to go? Tell me to stay because he loves me? Yep. That would be me. The desperate fool.
“I’ll send you so many pictures,” Emory says, pulling me into a hug. Knox stands silently behind her, hands in his pockets, staring at the sidewalk. He hasn’t said much since they came down from their apartment, but I guess he wouldn’t since I hurt his friend.
When we pull away, I glance at the entrance again, willing for him to pop out of the doors.
I then turn my attention to Knox and say, “I’m sorry about everything.”
He shakes his head. “No need to apologize, Dottie. We’re cool.” He doesn’t hug me, he doesn’t even look at me, and I’m not sure if he’s angry at me, at the situation, or at his friend.
I look toward the doors, hope falling with every second that passes. I want to delay this parting, wait outside all day, just to see him one more time in person, to hear his voice, take in his fresh smell, to—
“Sweetie.” Emory takes my hand and forces me to look her in the eyes. “He’s not here.”
“Oh, I wasn’t—”
“He’s in the Bahamas. He left a couple days ago.” Emory nibbles on her lip and looks like she’s about to cry.
Once again, disappointment plummets through me and smashes to the ground.
“Oh,” I say as more tears fall from my eyes. “Okay, yeah, sure.” I suck in a deep breath as snot starts to drip from my nose. Very unladylike, I dab at it with my long-sleeved T-shirt. “I wasn’t you know, looking for him or anything.”
“Dottie, your eyes were glued to the door,” Emory points out wearily.
“I know.” I nod and wipe at my eyes again. “I was just being foolish.” On a deep breath, I say, “Okay, I need to get a move on. Thank you for everything.” I give them both a chaste hug and then step toward my truck. “Send me lots of pictures. Love you guys.”
I hurtle myself into my truck and fasten my seatbelt. With my hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, I take one more deep breath and then give them a parting wave right before starting the truck.
It’s time to start a new chapter, even if it feels like this one is unfinished. Even if this one means I’ll be very, very alone.
Chapter Ninety-Six
JASON
Knox: I can’t believe you let her fucking leave.
I stare at the text and then set my phone to the side.
I can’t believe I let her leave either but the moment I stepped into her office, with the intention of possibly making things right between us, something stopped me. I don’t know what it was but seeing her standing there—in the office where she threw me out—it brought back memories of how she deceived me. And I froze.
I fucking froze.
Natalie walks over with a pineapple drink for both of us and sits in her lounge chair. I should be enjoying our gorgeous surroundings and the hot sun beating down on my naked chest. Should. Be.
Taking the drink from her, I resume staring out at the crystal blue ocean and say, “When is Ansel getting here?”
“About that.” Natalie leans back on her lounger and says, “We’re separated.”
“What?” I ask, shooting up from my lounge chair to stare at my sister.
When we rescheduled this trip, Natalie told me Ansel was coming later, I didn’t think he wasn’t coming at all.
“What do you mean you’re separated? For how long?”
“Six months,” she answers, avoiding eye contact.
“Six months?” I shout. “You’ve been separated from your husband for six months and you’re just telling me now? What the fuck, Natalie? Do Mom and Dad know? Joseph?”