Page 32 of Lost in Love

Ya know, I stopped trusting Nick after he pissed in a cup, put ice in it with sugar and told me it was lemonade when I was seven.

Sighing, I drop a wrench in the tray next to my toolbox. The sound pings throughout the shop but goes unheard in competition to the air tools. Nick notices though, his smile fading. “What are you doing, Nick?””

He’s immediately on the defense. “What are you talking about?”

“You knowexactlywhat I’m talking about.” I gesture toward Ava who’s now surrounded by the vape crew drooling over her and her long-ass legs. “You’re married.”

Nick shoves his hands into his pockets. “That’s none of your fucking business, Noah.” And then he pushes past me, knocking his shoulder into mine as he leaves.

None of my fucking business? Nick’s never been one to share his feelings.

I want to say so much more to him, but I don’t. I let it go because, after no sleep, I don’t have the energy to fight with him today. I look to Ava and then Nick as he walks out of the shop, and I can’t believe he’d do that to Xianna after all these years.

One of the other guys in the shop walks up to me and leans against my toolbox, his eyes on Nick in the showroom now with Ava. “Do you think he hired her for her looks?”

I look over at the kid. “I don’t fucking know. What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be changing the oil on that Honda over there?”

The kid shrugs. “I guess so.” He guesses so? See what I mean about today’s youth? It’s awful.

“Just go do it.” I don’t even know his name, but I think, judging by the name tag on his shirt, it might start with an M, but there’s a wrinkle in it so I can’t make out the rest.

Laughter draws my attention to the showroom. It’s Ava standing with Nick, smiling at him with her hand on his shoulder and his around her waist.

Listen, I can totally relate to feeling like the spark is fading, or hell, even wanting that newness of the first few months of dating. But unless you’re, let’s say a porn star, eventually, the newness wears off and you’re left with why you stepped out in the first place. It has nothing to do with the other person. It’s on you and your shit. At least, that’s what I believe, but who the fuck wants to listen to me. Clearly, by the way Nick refuses to make eye contact with me the rest of the day, he doesn’t share this theory.

Then I think about Xianna and how she must feel. Knowing Nick, she probably doesn’t even know anything about this woman, or any of the others, and I know my brother well enough to know there’s certainly been others. The way he treats women is disgusting.

Naturally, it gets me thinking about Kelly and how I keep pushing her away. I may not be cheating on her, but emotionally, I’m not there for her in the ways I know she needs me. I know this, but I do nothing to stop it. Especially last night, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with seeing Mara’s doctor. I thought if we moved this far away from Austin, the reminder of what we lost would slowly fade away. But grieving, and more importantly, grieving the loss of a child doesn’t work that way.

I can tell myself I can give her what she needs, but it doesn’t work that way in real life. In the movies, sure, but real life, shit’s complicated.

Eleven

Needing a Friend

(Grieving isn’t for the faint.)

I don’t wantto move. I want to wallow in my misery and cry myself into a chocolate coma. As much as that sounds reassuring, I’ve done it before, and all that got me was five extra pounds I swear went to each butt cheek. That and acne.

I get out of bed that morning because I have children who depend on me, and I know I can’t just play the grieving game and stay in bed. I want to, and I’m so freaking tired, I’m hoping Fin and Sevi are down for a nap later because I need it.

While I’m waiting in the drive-through line at Starbucks for a much-needed coffee, I open up my notebook. Journal needs to know some things, and I have to get them off my chest.

Journal,last night. What a fucking night. Is there a time when you have to finally say enough is enough and we’re just torturing ourselves? I don’t think there is, but I fear maybe he might get to that point. Last night he said he didn’t want to make me cry anymore, but Journal, he won’t talk to me either. Not about Mara at least, and I know that’s where all our problems lead to. I think about what he said about not wanting to make me cry. Even after I’ve dropped Oliver and Hazel off at school, the words hang there like a heavy cloud over me. There are so many times throughout the day when I want to call Noah and apologize for everything, and then again, nothing at all. I don’t know what I’m sorry for, and I don’t think he does either.

We ran into Mara’s pediatrician last night and we hadn’t seen him since her funeral. I wasn’t prepared for seeing him, and neither was Noah. He completely shut down after seeing him. And then we had sex, like that was his way of covering up. I cried the entire time. What does that say about our relationship if I’m crying during sex? It can’t be good. I feel so alone and he’s driving me further and further away with every action, and it breaks my heart. Why can’t he just be there for me and not be such a cold-hearted prick all the time?

A horn honkingbehind me draws my attention from my thoughts. And then a text from Kate.

Kate: I’m tracking you on Find Friends. You’re at Starbucks and I need coffee. Help a sister out!

She tracks me on Find Friends? Creepy!

Me: What do you want?

Kate: Sex

Me: ….

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