Page 84 of Loving Wild
Rather than open the front door, I do the adult thing and text him.
Me:What do you want?
Gabe:To talk.
Me:You said all you needed to say on Sunday.
Gabe:I want to apologise for Sunday, I didn’t mean any of it. I was just fucking angry when you said you weren’t over Jay.
Me:I didn’t say I wasn’t over Jay. Of course I’m over Jay. I was over him before I even left him!
Gabe:You said you weren’t over him. That you
The partial text comes through at the same time Gabe calls out, “For fucks’ sake, Ren, I’m not talking to you like this. Just open the fucking door.”
I think back to Sunday, and what exactly it was I said that has him thinking that I’m not over Jay. Before I come up with anything, Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ plays as Gabe’s name appears on my phone screen—feeling like an angry fourteen-year-old girl, I changed my ring tone this week—and I quickly swipe to end the call.
“Woman, you are literally right on the other side of this door ignoring me. Stop being fucking childish and open it.”
I open my mouth to tell himnotto call me woman, then close it with a smile as I consider how much I fucking love it when he calls me woman. And it’s at that moment I know I’m not ready for a face-to-face confrontation with him.
He’ll talk, and while he does, I’ll take in all that dark stubble on his jaw, and those gorgeous blue eyes of his will look at me in that way that makes my clothes fall off, and I’ll rush right back into his arms, trip over my knickers that came off with the rest of my clothes, and with my legs wide open, I’ll land on his dick . . . or his face, and none of my issues will get resolved.
“I need you to go,” I call out.
“Just open the door and talk to me, Ren.”
I close my eyes and rest my head back.
All I’ve thought about since Tuesday night is what Lou said, whether being faced with his exes on the daily is worse than being without him.
Sunday, I wasn’t sure. My ego had taken a battering after a weekend of being confronted by his exes. I honestly needed a little time to process what life with Gabe is going to be like, and I thought I needed to do that away from him.
What I’ve learned this week is that I could probably learn to live with his exes being in my face, but I don’t think I’ll ever learn to live without Gabe.
That doesn’t mean I should just go rushing straight back to him. We were thrown together in a situation fuelled by stress and high emotion, and it feels like that has stayed with us as an apt description of our relationship ever since. And it’s exhausting. I’m tired. Emotionally, physically, I’m bone-weary and just needed to take some time. But I’ve found no peace in our time apart. I’ve not slept, I’ve barely eaten, and my mind has been a maelstrom of indecision.
What we have is something special, but he’s part Italian, I’m part Irish redhead, things between us will always be passionate and fiery, and I can accept that, but we both have issues that need to be addressed before we can move forward.
I still need to work on my self-worth, my self-esteem. He loves me, I know he loves me, so these other women, the women from his past, despite still being a part of his present, I need to accept that they’re no threat to me and get the fuck over it.
And Gabe, he needs to work on his temper, not to lash out with his words when he feels rejected, and not run away from situations that overwhelm him emotionally.
He said a really shitty thing to me Sunday, and despitesayinghe wants to apologise, he hasn’t actually done it. He also threw a glass that just missed my head. I know it wasn’t aimed at me, but I’ve just gotten out of a violent relationship, and do not need that kind of behaviour in my life right now.
Or ever.
Then, there’s the fact that he lied by omission, and didn’t tell me about drinking with Alysa. Fucking Alysa. Another ex. Why do they all have to be so gorgeous?
Alysa, Karen, Lena, and even Jackie, are all stunningly beautiful women.
‘And so are you’ Jo’s words come back to remind me of what she’d said when I’d explained to her why I felt so inadequate.
“Why do they all have to be so pretty? Surely he must’ve fucked at least one ugly bird in his life?” I’d whined.
“Nope,” Jo replied. “Gabe has a type, and that type is stunning.”
“Oh, fuck off, you’re not helping.”
