Page 1 of When Forever Stays

ONE

DANA

Social media engagement announcements make me want to rip my eyeballs out. But could this specific one make me nauseous because of the man who posted it? Probably.

Less than two months ago, this now engaged man–Dr. Mitch Hastings–was posting pictures of him and me… several of them with the captionI caught a good one.

If this was the first time it happened, it wouldn’t bother me so much. But it didn’t happen just this once. Not just twice. It’s happened thrice! Yes, three timesin a row,the guy I dated broke up with me and got engaged before our break-up hit the six-month mark.

I flip my phone over, unable to stare at the engagement announcement any longer. Then I ask myself why? Why am I the final step before they fall into their future wife’s arms?

Just to torture myself further, I look back at my phone. Even on my screen, his fiancée’s diamond sparkles so bright it hurts my eyes. I close out of the app, set my phone on the table, and pinch the bridge of my nose as the beginning prickles of tears tease thecorners of my eyes. I take a breath of fresh ocean air that helps release some of the emotional pressure in my chest.

I woke up to a beautiful day full of potential. After a quick breakfast, I came out onto my porch to spend some time in the fresh air and try to read my Bible.

Everything was moving in a great direction until I opened that social media app instead of my Bible and saw the straw that broke my camel’s back—my most recent ex’s engagement.

As if the wind can sense that my blood is boiling, it breezes through my porch, helping to cool me off.

Despite the brewing storm inside me, the sun shines bright and warms the air, almost as a promise that things can only go up from here.

My mind wanders back to the picture of that ring and my stomach churns.

I huff a short breath and stand from the chair, stretching my arms over my head and twisting side to side. My joints crack and pop, releasing the tension I’ve been holding in my neck and back. As I turn in the direction of the ocean, it beckons to me. I listen to its call, slip on my flip-flops, and slide my phone into my pocket, heading toward the slice of sand that extends from my front yard. The sun beats down on me, and I relish the feel of its warmth on my skin.

Most of the time, walking along the shoreline helps calm my racing thoughts. It doesn’t seem to be heading that way today, though. Despite this ideal weather and the beauty surrounding me, I don’t feel tranquility like I had hoped to. Usually, the ocean is a place of comfort, but looking toward the public part of the beach and seeing the couples holding hands forces me to facemy insecurities, and the struggles I’ve tried—and failed—to lay before God. The main one: restlessness in my singleness.

I’ve been begging God to remove my desire for a husband and family. When He didn’t, I jumped into relationship after relationship, hoping that one would stick. None have. This most recent engagement announcement is my final straw. Now that I’m at three attempts and failures at reaching my happily ever after, it’s time for me to give up. Maybe accepting this as my fate will let me overcome my restlessness.

Twenty-four isn’t old to be unmarried to most people, but Amber Island has its own unique culture. Many of the long-term residents got married right out of high school and are having their second kid at twenty-four years old.

Well, hand me my crochet hook and call me a spinster because I am nowhere near that stage in life.

Watching each of my exes meet their soulmates right after breaking up with me is only pushing me closer toward bitter spinster status. My skin heats as a strange mix of anger and embarrassment burns hot in my veins.

I stop, release a deep breath, and send up a quick prayer for guidance. Marginally calmed, I pull out my phone and open the messenger app to think about something, anything else. My finger swipes down the screen through all my messages until I find the nameRhett Stryker.I swallow the lump in my throat and scroll to the first message he sent.

Rhett: This is Rhett Stryker, the guy who will sweep you off your feet ;)

The rest of the messages are snapshots of our short-lived whirlwind romance. He was my vacation crush, and he did exactly what he said he’d do in that first message. He swept me off my feet despite my intention of him only being a momentary distraction.

In our messages, we flirted, sent funny memes, and wished each other good night. The very last text was the one that broke my heart and sent me into my downward spiral.

Rhett: We’re sorry. The phone number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.

Have I read that text after every breakup? Maybe. Even though it’s like taking a sledgehammer to the chest. It’s as if the masochist in me wants to be reminded of what I had with Rhett. Even though Rhett and I were only together a week, we shared a connection. One he made clear he felt too even when I shared my reluctance to dive into a real relationship. I have to give the guy props—when he does something, he goes all in. Wooing, flirting, kissing…and unfortunately for me, ghosting.

After switching mental gears and sending my sister, Olivia, a quick message asking how things are going, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and wipe away the unauthorized tear from my cheek. I pull off my sandals and continue my walk barefoot, enjoying the feel of the white sand between my toes.

My mind wanders back to the week I spent with Rhett. He was a gentleman, sweet, kind, attentive, and funny. Proving to be the whole package on our date. After an enjoyable evening and a mind-altering kiss, Rhett wished me a good night, placed a final kiss on my forehead, and then he was gone. We may have only shared one date, but every word, touch, and kiss has brandedme. I’ve dated three other guys since moving to Amber Island, but that single week with Rhett Stryker set up all of my future romantic relationships for failure.

After that amazing week, Rhett became nothing more than a ghost from my past that has followed me into each relationship I’ve jumped into since. The bitterness I feel toward him is affecting me more than it should. I need to let it go. I need to lethimgo. But like so many other things, I’m failing.

I’m failing in areas I used to thrive in with no idea of how to rectify it. Bringing new people to church was like second nature, but it’s been months since I invited anyone. The excitement I once felt about sharing God’s word has dwindled. Something that has become a big problem in my line of work.

I blow out a long, frustrated breath and kick up some sand. “What could you possibly be teaching me in all of this, Lord?” I ask out loud.

There’s no loud voice that answers. But as my gaze shifts to the water, I’m struck by the vastness of God as the Creator of the world and I’m reminded of a verse from the Psalms.

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