Page 99 of She Was Made for Me

How can it still bethishard, even after a month? I know how heartbreak works—this isn’t my first rodeo. Admittedly, I’ve never fallen as hard for anyone as I have for Violet, but it’s always followed a predictable pattern. By this stage, things are supposed to be getting easier. You’re supposed to realize it was for the best, and life is supposed to start feeling good again.

Why isn’t that happening? Why does it feel like with each passing day I’m falling apart even more? I’ve been in this dark place before, but this time it’s worse. The person who helped me through it last time is gone from my life, and I have no one to blame but myself.

The pizza guy arrives with my food, and I take the box and set it on the coffee table without opening it. I don’t know why I bothered. I’m not hungry.

Outside, the sky cracks open and rain falls in thick, heavy sheets.

Fucking perfect.

I sink onto the sofa, head in my hands, and something digs into my lower back. Twisting to look, I fumble between the couch cushions and pull out a small book. It’s the one about Brooklyn Heights that Violet bought for me, because she saw it and thought I’d like it. The last time I read it was when we were here for the holiday weekend together. It must have got shoved between the cushions while we were having sex.

No, that wasn’t just sex. That was when I couldn’t hold my feelings in any longer, when I finally confessed I’d fallen in love with her, and she admitted she felt the same.

Fuck.

Misery grips my heart as I run my hands across the smooth cover, imagining her in the bookstore, thinking of me. I flick absently through the book, wishing I hadn’t found it. It’s yet another reminder of everything I’ve lost.

I’m about to set the book down when something catches my eye—an inscription on the inside cover that I hadn’t noticed before. It’s in Violet’s loopy scrawl, and it says:

You were right. Some things are worth fighting for. Vi xx

My breath catches in my throat as I reread her words. I know she’s referring to the house and the fact that I fought for a historical restoration instead of modernizing the building, but in this moment my heart reads more than that. It reads it like a sign from Vi, asking me to fight for her. For us.

I stare at Violet’s words, clarity striking me like the lightning flashing across the lake outside. I fought with everything I had for the house, but didn’t fight for her at all. I simply let her go. She was afraid to tell Rich, but I didn’t even try to talk to her about it, and after all that, he knows anyway. I didn’t fight for her; I didn’t fight for my friendship with Rich. I let myself give up and walk away. Hell, part of me was even relieved when Violet said she couldn’t go through with it. Because here’s what I couldn’t admit to myself; that sense of panic I’d felt when I woke that morning wasn’t only about keeping our relationship from Rich, it was about the idea of turning my entire life upside down, moving to New York, starting a new business… The thought of such a huge step felt overwhelming. When Violet let me off the hook, it was all too easy to accept, to choose not to fight for something that scared me so much.

Well, I’m tired of taking the easy road, of backing down from things that feel hard. It’s time to go after what matters to me, and that’s Violet.

I spring from the couch with renewed energy, snatching my keys off the counter and striding out to my truck without a second thought. I need to talk to Rich face to face. I need to apologize for how it went down, to tell him I’m in love with his daughter and that I think we’re meant to be together. That I’ll do whatever it takes to be with her, even if that means losing him, even if that means moving my life to the West Coast.

It’s a risk, but if the past month has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t live without Violet.

40

Violet

Iclose the door to my office with a soft thud, glancing at the time as I settle in at my desk. It’s been a long day, and I’m not nearly done yet. I should order some dinner, but I’m not hungry. Over the past month my appetite has vanished. The only good thing is I’ve lost the few extra pounds I was carrying around, plus a couple more. My coworkers think I’m on some kind of health kick, but the truth is a lot less glamorous.

I’m sad.

I don’twantto feel this way. It makes no sense. I’ve got the job I’ve wanted for years. I’m making a lot more money. Scott and the rest of the team are great. Sure, I’m working longer hours than I’d like, but a few months ago I was used to that. In fact, I reveled in it.

All in all, I should be thrilled. It’s like my life has finally come together but I can’t enjoy it.

I’ve never missed someone as much as I miss Kyle. Every day, I pick up my phone to text him and stop myself. It’s hard to believe that in two short months my entire life was upended so much that it now seems wrong when he’snotthere. My bed has never felt so empty. My nights have never felt so lonely. And my heart…

My heart has never felt so tender and bruised.

And the worst part is that I did this to myself. He was ready to tell Dad, and I’m the one who chose not to. I’m the one who chose to move here and take this job, to give up on Kyle.

I lean back in my chair with a deep sigh. Work keeps me busy, and that’s good, but my heart isn’t in it. I’ve even developed this unpleasant little habit of crying in the bathroom in the afternoons. Sometimes it’s the only way I can get through the day. I didn’t get the chance today because we were super busy, and now the sadness has built up inside me to the point that it feels like I’m about to burst.

Just a few more hours, I tell myself.

My phone buzzes with a text from Mom, checking in. Dad called not long after I arrived back in Silicon Valley, but I was swamped at work, and, admittedly, wanting to avoid him. I sent him and Mom a text saying I loved them very much, but I needed some space to focus on settling back into work, and promised to call them soon. They respected my request, but I guess a month without a call from me is pushing it.

Then there’s Sadie, who calls most days to check on me. I take her calls, and try to be as perky as possible, but I don’t know how much she believes me. If only she was here so we could sit on her sofa and talk about life. I wish she was dragging me out to a bookstore with her, making me take time away from work to go for coffee. I miss her so much.

I stare at my phone, then reluctantly press call on FaceTime. Maybe seeing Mom and Dad will cheer me up. In fact, I realize as I push my mouth into a smile to greet them, avoiding them for the past month has probably contributed to my shitty mood. This will make me feel better.

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