Page 97 of Stolen Moments

July 22

Emery: I’m begging you, please talk to me. Give me a chance to explain.

July 26

Emery: ANSWER YOUR PHONE, DAMMIT!

July 31

Emery: I miss you.

August 5

Emery: Just talk to me, please. I need you.

August 13

Emery: Happy birthday xo

August 14

Emery: Goodbye.

Chapter thirty-three

Emery

August

I rub the burningsensation from my eyes as the words on the screen blur together. For the last hour, the same open spreadsheet on my computer has been staring back at me.

My phone buzzes and I reach for it, swiping it open.Nothing.I slam my phone down. Of course, it’s nothing. I’m going crazy, imagining the notification sounds and buzzing. It’s never him.

Mason hasn’t answered my calls or text messages in six weeks. I’ve spent every night since he walked away from me crying myself to sleep. I miss him so much that my body physically aches for him. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, hell, I can’t even watch my favorite show without thinking of him and crying.

Despair courses through me like ice, freezing me to my core. I’ve never experienced this level of loss after breaking up with someone.

Not a breakup. This is a savage ghosting.

Ugh, my inner Chris is annoying. Thinking about my brother reminds me of what a horrible sister I’ve become in the last few weeks. I’ve been ignoring his calls, preferring to text him with fabricated stories of being busy. For the first time in years, I skipped his last event in favor of wearing sweatpants and Mason’s shirt while curling up into a ball on the couch, watching Keanu Reeves kick ass while crying my heart out.

Tears fill my eyes as I drop my chin to my chest. I try to stave off the tears attempting to bubble up to the surface. I’m a mess.

The pain has only worsened since I called Mason and left a drunk message on his voicemail. After downing a bottle of wine by myself, I found the courage to call. Of course, it went straight to voicemail. My memory is a little foggy, but I remember the words “sorry”, “fake fiancé”, “I love you”, and “miss you”. It’s not exactly how I wanted to tell the man how I felt, but the alcohol in my system had me disclosing like a sinner on Sunday in the confessional.

I cringe at the memory. Not only at the call but the hangover too. I had a headache for days.Stupid wine.I’m never touching the stuff again.

Freaking voicemail. I bet he never even listened to it. He probably deleted it, along with all my texts. I wouldn’t be surprised if he blocked me. It would explain why all my messages go unread.

A week after the voicemail incident, with still no word, I officially threw in the towel. I can’t take the silent treatment anymore. It cuts deeper than if he had yelled and fought with me face to face.

I know I hurt him by lying, but I had hoped he would hear me out. Give me a chance to explain. Instead, he’s cut me out of his life without a second thought.

I might have stopped reaching out to him, but it’s done nothing to change how I jump at the sound of my phone or how I see his face everywhere I go. Reaching for my phone has become second nature since the beginning of our relationship. Good morning texts would greet me when I woke and good night messages would send me off to dream about him.

Now, there are no more texts, no more calls, no more Mason at all.

“Okay, enough is enough.” Scarlett slams a stack of files on my desk, snapping me out of my somber spiral into the darkness that lurks in my lonely heart.

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