Page 41 of My Summer Fling

“Look, it’s late,” Tiff says as she leans over to give me a hug. “And you have had the longest and shittiest day ever. Get some sleep.”

I sit there giving Annie scratches while Tiff gets me a couple of pillows.

“Help yourself to anything you need. And if you need a cuddle, you know where I am.” She winks and then gives Annie a kiss before heading back down her little hallway.

I take Annie outside to let her potty and to give myself some fresh air. I breathe in the salty scent in the air and lean back against her porch railing. Two more weeks. I just have to make it two more weeks, and then I never have to speak to or see Noah ever again.

The only thing I dread doing next is calling my brother. Discussing this with him is the last thing I want to do, especially over the phone. I thought Noah would’ve felt the same way, but I guess not. I don’t know why he called Teddy, but if he intends to try and use him to get to me, it isn’t going to work.

“Come on, girl,” I call to Annie.

We go inside and I curl up on the couch while she settles into her bed that’s positioned right next to me on the floor. I try my hardest not to think of Noah as I drift off to sleep, but my entire night ends up being filled with dreams about all the things he said, like even my subconscious will stop at nothing to torture me.

After a weekof sleeping on Tiffany’s couch, I feel like my body has aged about twenty years. Every morning I basically roll and fall off the couch only to lie on the flat, hard floor for a few minutes to try and reset my damn spine.

Noah owes me a fucking chiropractic appointment.

I finally texted him this morning, letting him know that I’d need to stop by the house to get a few things. I packed in such a hurry last week that I didn’t grab enough clothes, and I miss some of my comfort outfits.

All I got in response is that he would make sure he wasn’t there. I know he’s doing it because he thinks I’m going to give him brownie points for respecting my wishes and boundaries but it’s honestly just the bare minimum. The bar is literally in hell these days for how men should act.

I leave Annie at Tiff’s while I run over, and even though Noah’s truck isn’t in the driveway, I still have nervous butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I’m worried he’s somehow going to surprise me or he’s going to come back too soon, and I’ll have to face him.

I cautiously walk around the side of the house, peeping into my windows to make sure he isn’t hiding in there somewhere. I feel ridiculous while I do it, but I can’t help myself. The trust between us is just non-existent.

The house is immaculate. When I walk inside, it doesn’t even feel like my house. It’s been cleaned from top to bottom and feels foreign. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t live in filth. But I believe that a house should be lived in. Not that I mind that he’s cleaned. It needed to be done before the wedding anyway, but I had planned to come over and do it myself in a few days.

I guess I can check that off my to-do list.

Walking into my bedroom, I find he’s laid things out all over my bed. There are my favorite outfits, pajamas, and even some of his T-shirts that I’ve been sleeping in. Everything is folded and laid out in piles for me to pack. I run my fingers over the soft T-shirts of his that he left for me and bite back the tears.

Even now, I want to pick one up and put it on. Instead, I just lift it to my face and breathe it in. It still smells like him, and my throat aches. I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself since I left, but I miss him. There are so many things I miss about him. And being without him every day for the past week has been hard. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like when he leaves for good, and I have to sleep in my own bed without him again …

I set his shirt back down into the pile he left for me. I won’t be taking any of them. If he’s leaving me for good, I can’t continue to miss him, and that’s exactly what those shirts will do. I’ll just sit there smelling his warm scent and miss him like a love-struck teenager.

I look at what else he’s left me and see that there’s a box of extra-butter popcorn and a bag of chocolate chips. My eyes scan over the sticky note he left on top of them.

Just in case Tiff doesn’t have your favorite snack.

That bastard.

I feel the tears leak down over my cheeks now. It’s like he punched me in the gut. When I pick both the popcorn and the chocolate chips up and shove them in my bag, I discover an envelope with my name on it underneath.

I sigh.

“Fuck, Noah,” I say out loud.

Defeated and tired of being here, I grab the things he’s left out for me—because he was right, everything he left out is stuff I wanted—and put the letter on top of everything. I can’t read it here, not in the house we’ve shared for the past month and a half and definitely not when he could come back any minute.

I toss everything in my car and rush back to Tiffany’s, hoping she isn’t there when I get back. I want a minute to myself to read this and process whatever it is he’s left me without someone watching me for any little reaction I might have. I love her to death but right now, I need to be alone with this letter.

When I pull into her parking lot, I don’t see her car. I rush upstairs, my bag of stuff in tow, and give Annie a minute of attention before I settle in. I’m going to read this. It’s like I have to give myself a pep talk. I sit on the couch just staring at his handwriting on the plain white envelope. I run my fingertips over it and notice there’s something else inside.

Opening it up, I find a flash drive tucked in with the paper. I sit it on the coffee table and slowly pry open the lined paper filled with his scratchy handwriting. I swear it hasn’t changed since he was eight, and I smile at just how bad it actually is.

Millie,

There’s a lot I want to say to you, but clearly when I try to talk to you, it doesn’t come out. The only words that make their way out of my mouth are hurtful and dishonest. Because let’s face it, I think we both know that everything I said to you the other day was a lie.

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