Page 83 of Loving Wild
That’s when I break. It takes less than a second after Lou asks the question before I heave out the sob I’ve desperately been holding on to all night.
“I miss him so fucking much,” I admit. “How? Why? It’s been weeks. I had years with Jay, and I honestly don’t care if I never see him again. I’ve been with Gabe less than two months and being without him for the past two days has fucking killed me.”
“Well, there’s your answer,” Lou replies, finally replacing the bowl of cashews on the coffee table and brushing her hands together.
* * *
My phone vibratesfrom where it lays on the coffee table. I’m lying on the sofa next to it, which is where I passed out earlier.
It’s Friday, five days since I left Gabe’s, and I’ve not seen or heard from him since.
I’ve kept myself busy all week by using Jo’s car to go up to the McAlister job to take measurements, using Jo’s computer to order samples, and the furniture Karen has already signed off on. I’ve also driven out to two properties on the peninsula to price up a couple of smaller jobs that came in at the end of last week.
They both confirmed and paid a retainer for my work last night, Karen paid her deposit Monday, so this morning I’ve been able to get my hair cut and coloured, my brows and bikini area waxed, my lashes and brows tinted, a mani, and a pedi.
I should feel like a million dollars after the money I spent, but I don’t. I came home, well, back to Jo’s because technically, I’m once again homeless, poured myself a glass or three of Prosecco, then cried myself to sleep.
I’ve cried a lot this week, especially the first couple of days. My insides ache with how much I miss Gabe, with how much his words hurt me, and by the fact he hasn’t reached out, although I’m not sure that’s something I actually want him to do because I’d probably just be a bitch because fuck him for ignoring me for so long. Even if I don’t know whether I want to talk to him or not, he should’ve at least tried . . . and that’s where my brain’s at, going around and around in circles like this. I’ve barely slept all week, which is probably why I needed a nanna nap and has nothing to do with my day drinking.
I sent Gabe a message Wednesday asking if Jo could come over and collect some of my stuff. We have a girls’ night out planned for Saturday, and I need something to wear that’s not been borrowed from Jo, but he didn’t reply, and I’m wondering now if this could be him. I have a thirty-second internal battle with myself as to whether I want to know, which, because I’m weak, I obviously lose because I’m now reaching for my phone.
My heart falls into my stomach at seeing it’s a message from Jo:Cooper just called asking if you’re staying at mine, I think he might be on his way over.
Me:Shit! What should I do?
Jo:What do you wanna do?
Me:I don’t know!
Jo:Welp, if you don’t, I sure as shit don’t! Maybe just talk to him and find out where Gabe’s head’s at.
Me:I don’t know that I care!
Jo:You care. I understand that you need some time apart, but this isn’t the end for you two.
Me:Felt pretty fucking final on Sunday with the shit he said.
Jo:Yeah, I don’t get what that was all about. If you talk to Coop, you might get some answers. That way, if it is the end, at least you’ll have closure.
Reading that makes my heart, and my belly hurt. The way Jo types the words so easily, with no concept of the devastation I’m feeling inside. I don’t want closure, I don’t want this to be the end of us, but the longer we go without communicating, the more it looks like that might be the case. What if that was all we were ever meant to be, a few short weeks. Him rebuilding me, me making him realise he is capable ofmore, of actually having a relationship. What if I’ve fixed him just so he can skip off into the sunshine with someone else?
“Fucking bitch,” I say out loud as I think about a hypothetical person involved in a hypothetical relationship with Gabe. Hypothetical or not, I fucking hate her.
Me:Fine!
I send my reply, then put my phone down when I get no further response.
The film just comes to an end when there’s a knock at the door. I check out the front window before going to open it. My heart performs a backflip or three when I see Gabe’s truck parked on the drive.
Shit! Am I ready for this? Ready to see him face to face?
Stepping away from the window, I grab my phone off the coffee table, go out to the hallway, then crawl on my hands and knees to the front door so he can’t see me through the glass panels—or maybe it’s so that I can’t see him, I’m not sure because I’m not sure of anything right now.
“What the fuck, Ren? Are you crawling along the floor? Icansee you, you know.”
Sitting with my back to the door, I close my eyes and cringe at being busted, at the same time, I swoon a little on the inside at the sound of his voice., which is extra rough and gravely.
He knocks again.
