Chapter 2

It’s only been a day since I left him, but it feels like an eternity. The apartment is eerily quiet while Sarah and her boyfriend, Marcus, are visiting his family for the next six days. I have all technology switched off, so Jake can’t contact me and I’m slowly dying inside. It doesn’t feel like I belong back here, in this apartment. Queens isn’t where I should be anymore either.

The anger sweeps through me, followed closely by grief, then mourning. I can’t seem to be still, every part of me cycling through emotions over and over. I feel like I’m caught in a nightmare I can’t wake up from and everything around me is so surreal. My palms are cold, my body trembles, but I feel hot and sick. I’ve tried to do something other than lie on the bed and sob, but I’ve lost all my capabilities.

The years I was hurt and abused at the hands of men used to somehow give me strength to fight back, no matter what they did, my anger fuel me on to be better. But Jake has left me bereft and empty. There’s nothing in me but an agonizing pit of despair and hopelessness as I’m lying crumpled and useless on a bed.

Food doesn’t tempt me, I can’t swallow water, and the thought of getting up is abhorrent to me. I’ve thrown up so many times since I got here, maybe a reaction to the emotional trauma. Thoughts of Jake and Marissa run over and over through my head. My imagination taking hold, running wild, seeing them kissing passionately, hands running up and down her body pushing things further. I can’t shake it; every new visualization becomes more detailed and more excruciating than the last. I’m literally torturing myself into insanity.

I’ve no idea how far things went or how they even started but my mind is slowly tormenting me. I know if I stay here, like this, I’ll slowly go insane or die from starvation. I need to get up and shower, get up and eat, just get up and not lie falling into oblivion. I need to start rationalizing my thoughts to help process what has happened.

You need to pick up the pieces and file them into the back of your head. You are better than this!

I finally drag myself up, sitting and watching the rain fall down the window from my padded, silver-gray headboard. It seems to echo how I feel inside. The dark gray sky brings a dull light to everything around me in my stark modern room. I’ve no idea what time it is; it ceased to exist the moment he told me what he did.

I pull myself to standing, ashamed that I’m still in his T-shirt and running pants, acknowledging the mess of me. I don’t want his smell around me or the memory of him so close. I need to pull myself together and try to look like I’m coping with life, maybe doing this I’ll find my old resolve.

I force myself into the small shower of my apartment. The confines of the cheerful pink bathroom Sarah insisted on decorating brings me a little comfort, a minor spark of happiness amid a sea of darkness. A touch of Sarah with her bright happy face pushes Marissa aside for a moment, giving my head respite.

* * *

I’m a little saner from the harsh jets of hot water drilling into my skull, distracting me from my own reality, and stand that way until my legs go numb, like a mindless drone on autopilot.

I dress in fresh clothes and brush out my hair before moving to unpack my things into the empty wardrobe.

The doorbell ringing snaps my focus around, and I hesitate, stomach lurching in panic. Sarah won’t be back for a few days and I’m not expecting anyone I can think of. Experiencing a moment of fear as my gut tells me it might be him, that maybe he doesn’t want to give me space to think, but I can’t see him so soon. My insides go weak, turning to liquid mush, my legs become rubber, and hands start sweating. I’m close to fainting when sense steps in.

Wait!

My brain snaps into focus, telling me it’ll be Mathews with my belongings! I asked him to bring them to me sooner rather than later, wanting the pain of the task out of the way quickly. I feel ridiculous and try to regain some stability in my legs.

Get a grip, Emma. Breathe … Count … Breathe.

I stumble to the door through the open-plan lounge opening it hesitantly without checking the spy hole; willing myself to find courage and poise to hide the internal disaster that I am.

I’m right and Mathews stands with another man dressed in matching black, holding cases, a serious expression on his face. I know he’s taking me in, trying to ascertain how I am without asking. It’s what he does, appraises people instantly, analyzing me at a glance.

“Miss. Anderson, shall I have everything brought in?” His deep gravelly voice is comforting. I smile emptily, moving out of the way gesturing they should, finding PA Emma, pushing her out in front to take control of my lifeless body for a while.

It doesn’t take long them to bring the cases and boxes in; each time my head and heart hurting a little more. I didn’t realize how much I accumulated moving in with Jake; ever generous, always flourishing me with clothes via Donna or little surprise things among my jewelry or shoes; even down to books I read. Always finding a new one beside my bed when I was nearing the end of the one I had. He never ceased to anticipate my needs knowing exactly what I’d like. He never made a big thing of it though; no large dancing gesture, presenting me with gifts he knew I’d feel embarrassed about accepting … so he’d slot them in with my things to find while alone. I never refused anything that way, always warmed by the thoughtful touches he left for me.

God, I miss him so much. He always knew what I needed.

When the men are done, Mathews turns to me at the door, ushering his man out, and gives me a paternal, warm, sympathetic smile.

“Miss. Anderson, Mr. Carrero asked me to give you this.” His steady gaze taking in the flicker of emotions across my face as he holds out the long slender cream envelope with my name on the front with the achingly bold and beautiful handwritten script of Jake’s on the front. My heart pangs and contracts at the sight of it. I instantly bite on my lip to quell the tears, the heavy swallowing to calm my emotions doesn’t go unnoticed. He gives me a sympathetic look, sliding the envelope into my palm with a brief pat on my shoulder and a nod.

“He loves you, ma’am, men are idiots when it comes to love and relationships. We all make mistakes. Just don’t dismiss all you have without really thinking things through. You are his universe, Miss. Anderson.”

Interesting observation from a man who sees so much and yet is only a mere brief presence in our lives.

He smiles at me gently and I nod too, ignoring that tug in my throat which aches so badly. Tears pool in the back of my eyes, my throat throbbing.

“Please tell Jake I need time alone. I’m grateful for my things, Mr. Mathews and thank you, really.” I smile emptily. He understands that I’m dismissing him before I fall apart, because even hearing Jake’s name brings an unbearable agony that cuts through my core. He nods and says a small farewell before leaving, pulling the door closed behind him.

I’m stood stiff and numb, staring at the handle of the door for a few moments, lost in an empty daydream, before my head snaps me into focus and I stare down at the letter in my hand. I’m grasping it so tightly I’ve put a wrinkle across its smooth surface.

I walk to the couch and sit down, holding the letter in front of me as though it’s some foreign object I don’t recognize, and I don’t know what to do with. I sit for the longest time and just stare, my heart beating through my chest, my breathing labored. His neat, beautiful writing scraping at what’s left of my strength, knowing whatever is inside has the power to fuel another onslaught of tears and sobs and crushing pain that I’m just not ready for. I get up, walk to my room, and slide it in front of the mirror on my vanity instead. I need time, time to get myself together, before I read it.

Jake kissed someone else, Marissa, of all people! Will I ever be ready to face that?

To some the act is excusable, maybe even understandable, considering everything that went on leading up to it. I can’t change how irreversibly it has hurt me. It’s about trust, betrayal, and security. He did something as painful as full-on sex. He touched her and gave her something that should only belong to me from the second he gave me his heart, regardless to what pain he was feeling. He gave his touch to someone he knew would crush me. The woman he will be tied to for an eternity because of her unborn child. I know drunk Jake can be irrational and impulsive, fueled by rage, but there’s still a part of me that shakes its head sadly.

If he loved me then he wouldn’t have been able to throw me aside so carelessly and cruelly turning to that woman and doing something so vindictive.

Maybe this is what I deserve in life. Maybe this is my retribution because of the insecure afraid of emotion weird mess that I am who pushed him away for so long, even though I’ve no doubt that Jake loves me. I’ve seen it so many times in the ways he’s changed his life for me. I’ve no doubt that he regrets what he’s done. I would be blind not to see it written all over him, but it’s not any of that which holds me here.

It’s knowing I may never be able to trust him again; letting my insecurities expand beyond control, knowing I’ll always be second guessing him anytime he leaves me alone. Always doubting if he has unresolved feelings for Marissa. It’s a black mark in our almost perfect union, a hideous ugly scar, forever there between us. He showed me that all men, even the ones who love you, can still crush you so easily.

I know I have blame in this too, maybe that’s why I can’t hate him, maybe it’s why even as I’m dying inside, all I want is him. The source of my pain is my only cure and as much as I hate what he’s done, as much anger and hurt there is inside of me, I can’t stop pining for him. It makes me more messed-up in the head and unable to get my thoughts straight.

* * *

I spend the next several days locked in my own solitude, leaving only to buy groceries then returning home. I’ve mindlessly sat through so many hours of daytime TV and horrible romantic movies that make me want to throw books at the screen. Sarah should be back soon, and I don’t want her to see what I’ve become; some slobbish, tear-stained, mess of a girl who’s been living in a sea of junk food, chocolate wrappers, and screwed up tissues.

Classy look, Emma; really holding yourself together, aren’t you?

After a much-needed pep talk and a long agonizing look in the mirror I am finally so sick of my depressive mood and disgusting behavior. I force myself to get up and stop moping around like a broken-hearted zombie, doing anything to stop mulling it over in my brain.

I busy myself with cleaning the apartment, wiping away hours of lying around sobbing into tissues eating carbs; the endless sea of clothes on my floor I can’t bear to look at, all tied viciously to memories of him. I need to get myself together and show Sarah I can be who I used to be. I can pretend at being in control for her sake, by looking as I should, and having our home as neatly kept as we usually do. I won’t inflict this person I’ve become on her when she gets back. I’m ashamed of who she is.

I have texts from him and emails, all unopened, the bunches of flowers and expensive gifts sent to my door all turned away. Jake’s trying so hard to reach through my wall of silence and contact me but as I told him on every returned gift card:

Leave me be, give me time. X

Every time the bell goes, the pain of being betrayed rears its ugly head, with each bunch of gorgeous flowers more extravagant than the last, chocolates, jewelry, and even a stuffed bear holding a broken heart. Each one causing a flood of tears and a ravaged heart. It’s been hell trying to tell the couriers to take them back, that I don’t want any of them. Inflicting my sobbing, manic, blubbering, messed-up self on any delivery guy brave enough to try to give me any of Jake’s gestures, flapping my hands to motion them out of my sight. It’s all too much to bear and now I’ve muted the intercom, so drivers assume no one is home.

I can’t fault him for trying to reach me, not a day has passed that he hasn’t tried, but I’m not ready to face this or him just yet. My head is a mess; my body is a mess; my emotions are a mess. I feel like I’ve been cut loose and left adrift. I can’t focus on a single thing. I’ve never experienced this kind of torment. I thought being sent away by Jake, to his dad’s company, was the worst pain I would ever endure in my life, but this tops that. This is excruciating.

At night, I barely sleep and reach for him when I do. I dream of him and each dream gives way to my old night terrors, waking me up in panic, causing me to dive toward my headboard. I pull my covers to my chest trying to fight off the shadows coming at me as I drag myself out of my mind, desperate to fully wake up. Those nights are the worst, drenched in sweat and fear, gasping in panic as I slap at the shadows around me. I wake up, often hoping that it’s all been a dream and that I’m in his apartment again. Held captive by his limbs, and he’s right there beside me to make me feel safe, but every time, my body gives way to sobbing when I realize where I am.

I’ve cried so much I’m not sure how my body still has any fluids left but it seems I have a never-ending supply reserved just for him, exhaustion is the only thing which helps numb the pain; my head is foggy with fatigue constantly.

* * *

“Emma?” Sarah’s worried voice hits me as I’m scrubbing the cooker for the fiftieth time, her arms flying around me as she sees me. I didn’t even hear her come in. I finally caved a few hours ago, in a phone call while she got ready to travel home and told her why I was here, unable to talk through tears but she finally understood.

“Oh, my God! I was frantic the whole flight, desperate to get back to you.” She croons, holding me tight and I relax into her embrace, holding myself together, telling myself to not fall apart. To not be the girl who crumbles when her friend asks how she is.

“I’m okay, Sarah … Better than I was the last couple of days.” a numbness has started to envelope me most of the time, making me able to cope with menial tasks and mindless routines in an almost zombie like state.

I turn in her arms and spot Marcus scurrying away with cases to her room, a typical man avoiding female tears, a real charmer. Jake would have brushed them away for me and asked me to tell him all about it. He would’ve wiped the floor with the likes of Marcus and his evasive behavior to female tears. I push down the thought and bite my lip.

I can’t keep torturing myself this way. Stop thinking about him.

“Is this it? Are you really walking away from what you had?” She gazes at me with an intense frown. “He made a mistake, Emma … He’s human.” Her revelation takes me by surprise; makes me stop what I’m doing and gape at her.

“On our call, you were all for me kicking him the balls if I remember.” I point out in surprise, a look of complete disbelief etched on my face, in truth I’m more than a little hurt.

“Yeah, but then I had time to simmer and think about everything, Ems … Jake really loves you. I don’t think this is something he’d ever repeat.” She looks incredibly sincere at this very moment.

Why am I shocked? She’s given Marcus so many chances in the past and here he is again. She’s just another version of my mother, letting a man hurt you then crawling back to him again.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m beyond confused.” I admit, glancing down between us at the way she’s holding both of my hands tightly, a sudden urge to haul her into my arms and cry. I don’t miss the old me who never allowed this kind of touch between us. It’s comforting and so necessary to me right now.

“Emma, think about it, he could’ve done more than a kiss … He could’ve taken her back to her hotel and done the deed. As soon as he kissed her, he knew he’d fucked-up, right?” Her hopeful blue gaze bores into my face and I try to ignore it. I can’t deny the Jake of old would have thought nothing of screwing some girl from a bar, even screwing Marissa if he was drunk enough. He’d done that already, the baby proof of that. I quash down the vile thoughts of his body entwined with hers, revulsion pushing up my throat at the traumatic visions going through my mind.

“So, you think I should just forget it … Brush it off as nothing?!” I snap, yanking my hands away, of all people I expected Sarah to be on my side.

But not this!

“No of course I don’t, he’s hurt you, Emma. But I think you can move past this and be with him again when you’re ready.” She sounds so young and pleading. I don’t want this version of Sarah. I want her jokes on what she would do to maim him in her unrelenting loyalty to me; dragging his name through dirt, calling him all the cusswords she can think of. Instead she’s championing him making me feel anger that has lain dormant the past few days.

“It’s not just the kiss … It’s who he kissed!” I stamp, pulling myself away heading to the couch and slumping down. Trying hard to simmer the wave or irritation growing in my belly. “It was her … Marissa. The one person I hate more than anyone and the one person that can truly kill everything between us.” the tears sting my eyes at the mention of that bitch’s name, and I bite them back defiantly. Not while her name is on my lips, I wouldn’t dare.

That bitch will never get my tears.

“It probably wasn’t a choice, Emma, just a coincidence. Someone or anyone that happened to throw themselves at him because that’s how much he was hurting; how irrational he was being … There was no attraction in it.” She raises her hands almost in exasperation and meets my furious scowl.

How are you so sure, Sarah, because I don’t even know!?

“If he loved me then he wouldn’t have so cruelly kissed her.” I spit, her stance unmoving, arms folded across her chest as though dealing with a petulant child. Her voice is steady and stern with a look in her eye that belongs on a school mistress.

“If he didn’t love you then he wouldn’t have done anything at all, Emma, it’s because he was in an incredible amount of heartache that he stupidly did it. You hurt each other. He only found out later that you were just bluffing about the other guy, but you still rejected him.” She walks forward sliding down beside me regarding me, pleading, and takes my hands gently but I turn my face away defying her defense of him.

“He should’ve known I would never do anything like that, and I didn’t reject him, I just said it was too soon.” a tear rolls down my cheek; my head is in chaos again. I never seem to be able to get any of this straight in my head, at exactly whose fault this is, if I should’ve done anything differently, or how we could’ve prevented all this.

“Men can be idiots, especially drunk and emotional men. He was already hurting because he felt like you rejected him. With an ego like his I’m sure that was a devastating thing, Ems, and the other guy comment sent him over the edge. Maybe he just figured you had finally realized he wasn’t what you wanted anymore.” She’s trying to sound soft, but I just feel so angry and enraged.

“Well then he’s an idiot because he was everything that I wanted and needed. I would’ve followed him to the ends of the fucking Earth.” I sob, unleashing a heart-breaking cry so raw even Sarah is silenced by shock. She watches me with large blue eyes and her lip trembles.

“Emma?” she finally whispers, leaving me to calm to a gentle sniffing, my anger deflating before she continues, “If he’s everything to you then why would you reject a home with him?” She watches me closely, regarding me with a confused and gentle expression on her face.

“Because I’m scared,” I admit finally. “I’m scared that I’m not enough to keep him with me for a lifetime. I’m scared of letting someone else take the lead and losing all that I am. I’m scared of this new life he’s offering me that could be taken away at any minute.” It’s then that I realize I’ve never believed in myself, never thought I could keep someone like him for more than a few blissful months, let alone a marriage and life. That I could be more than my career, and give him something, anything equivalent to all that he was trying to give me. Even now I feel like I never really deserved any of it.

I have so much to thank my mother and her lovers for; a self-doubt so huge I’m too scared to let myself be happy. Jake is right, I’m incapable of ever fully letting go or letting him in all the way.

“Emma, I believe he’s the one for you, mistakes aside. I truly believe you’ll never find another love or happiness in the way you found it with him. He seems to know what you need, almost instinctively, and he gives you it. He understands you. You have no idea how rare that is.” She tightens her grasp on my hand and gazes at me fondly. Those tropical blue eyes twinkling with love. “You changed someone like him, Emma, he changed you, you have no idea how huge that is. I don’t think he’ll ever look anywhere else again if you give him another chance, no, in fact I know he won’t.”

“I can’t just push aside what he did.” I sigh.

“But you can learn to forgive him, and you can only do that by talking to him and seeing what happens next.” She strokes back my hair from my face wiping away some of the wetness on my cheek. “You can’t wallow in here and hide away forever.”

“It hurts me when I think of him, or even see his name on a text or an email. I can’t bear to open any that he’s sent; not even the letter Mathews brought the first day.” I shrug at her hauling my hair across my face twisting it harshly. Lately, every anxiety driven habit and fidget I’d learned to control has returned tenfold, reminding me of him and his warm hands pulling my fingers from my hair. I yank my hands away clenching my fists to curb the urge.

“You’re doing what you always do, you’re pushing it away, denying its effect on you. It’s hurting you trying to catch it all in that little black box in your head, but it won’t work with this. You look awful.” Sarah smiles at me but I can see the concern in her eyes. “I’m not telling you to run back to him with open arms, just go see him … Or let him come see you. Talking is the only way forward.” The way she inclines her head with a knowing look gives me a tingle of suspicion. Something in that ‘know it all’ expression makes me stop and take note.

“He’s talked to you, hasn’t he?” I finally click that she knows more than I managed to say through hysterical tears, and she changed her whole attitude in the last few hours since my call. I’m not dumb, only Jake could’ve given her the insight that I don’t have. The way she’s been fighting to give him a chance when only hours ago she wanted to rip that pretty head from his wide, strong shoulders.

More like his asshole head and arrogant shoulders. Man up, Emma!

“Yes, he did. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind if I’m being honest. He gave me his number a while back when I couldn’t get through to you at work and had to call your main office.” She looks away sheepishly as though she’s done something wrong.

“What did he say? How did he sound?” I can’t help myself, it’s like dangling alcohol in front of a drunk, any tiny insight into Jake right now is what I need and crave, even if it’s something I’m not sure my frayed emotions can handle right now. I know how contradictory my reaction is to what I’ve been thinking, but it’s an instinctive impulse I have no control over.

“He sounded so … broken. The first thing he said was “How is she?” … That kind of threw me.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I was all set to yell at him but then I sort of didn’t, he sounded like a man who’s living through hell Emma … Not very Jake Carrero at all.”

I swallow hard, returning my focus to my hand, as the tremble in my lips betrays my urge to cry. I don’t want to hear how hurt he is or how different he is. I want to know my domineering cocky asshole is still in there. I need him to be the Jake I love.

“Tell me …” I stumble over the words like lead in my mouth. “… Tell me what he told you.”

“Maybe it’s best coming from him sweetheart? He told me because he needed someone to offload to, someone who would be on your side. Someone he knew loves you as much as he does. I think he wanted me to see it from his side and somehow maybe if I could understand it then he would have a chance at getting you to understand too.” The honesty in her eyes makes me break.

“No … I couldn’t bear to hear him say any of it. I don’t think I could handle it. Please Sarah.” I turn to her with watery, pleading, eyes, and a grim expression. My pain is so visible she lets out a small cry of sympathy, the sound of it makes my heart thump harder in my chest.

She thinks for a long while before resigning herself to saying more, my begging gaze boring into her, weakening her resolve. Defeat in her eyes as she slowly gives in to my silent willing.

“He barely kissed her, Ems … seconds at most, and then felt an almighty kick in his gut. He said he knew instantly he was throwing away everything that mattered to him, that he was being an idiot, so he turned around and walked away. Left her standing in the club. He went home with Daniel until he was ready to face you.”

She looks at me, waiting for some sort of response, and when I don’t give one, she carries on. “He said he switched on his phone when he couldn’t stand it any longer and had two messages and a voicemail from you. It was like having his heart ripped out all over again. He knew as soon as he saw them, he’d lost you. He knew the second he told you what he’d done you would go.” She sighs and raises her eyebrows in an ‘I’m sorry’ kind of gesture.

“I just don’t get how he could do that to me.” I sob as pain sears through my chest despite her telling me something I already know. I bite down the burning knot of agony in my throat, fighting down the words trying to come out of my mouth.

“He’s a man, Emma … He’s human and not perfect. God, you’ve told me how many times before how imperfect your Boss was? He’s still the same guy; except now you love him. We all have insecurities, and we all jump to conclusions and make stupid mistakes, even him.” She hands me the box of tissues from the side. No one knows more than me that we’re capable of irrationality when insecurity raises its head.

I am the queen of insecurity and jealousy.

“What if I can never forgive him? Never stop feeling this broken?” Fresh tears roll down my cheeks, hopelessness devouring me.

“I promise you that you can move on from this, and if he’s the guy for you, he’ll earn your forgiveness a thousand times over. I really have faith that he will Emma.” She tips my chin with her fingers, so I look at her. “He really loves you in a way that makes me kind of jealous.” She smiles, casting her eyes to her shut bedroom door. “Not all men are so easy to love or show it so openly. But Jake and you, I think you’re the exception to the rule, you two really are the fairy-tale couple despite his impulse to fuck it up all the time. He dotes on you in a way most men aren’t capable of and he doesn’t care who sees it either.”

“It doesn’t feel like it right now.” I sigh, wiping my nose with my sleeve, ungraceful and completely angst pushed. The old Emma would be rolling in her metaphorical grave right now.

“Don’t walk away from him … I’m not saying that for him, I’m saying it for you. I don’t think I’ll ever see you get over him if you do.” She sets a serious look on her gentle face. “You owe it to yourself to try to forgive him, if you can’t then at least you know you tried.” Sarah’s warmth calms me bringing some sense of numb back to the ache in my chest.

“You really want the apartment to yourself, don’t you?” I smile through my watery tears and Sarah giggles.

“Totally! It is my love nest after all.” We both laugh, softly, releasing a tiny bit of the tension. “You know you can stay here forever. I would love nothing more, but really I want you to be happy and I think it’ll only happen when you’re back with him.”

Typical. Find happiness in the arms of the one person who can destroy you.

“What should I do?” I finally sniff, still so confused at the riot of emotions and thoughts coursing through my head.

“Read the letter, the messages, and emails. Then maybe reply to one of them and take it from there.” She presses a palm to my cheek in a surprisingly maternal way. “Do what you feel is best for you. But don’t just sit festering, doing nothing.” Sarah gets up and walks to her door, leaving me to digest our conversation.

“I need to go unpack and see Marcus, tell him it’s safe to come out. He has a phobia of women’s tears and a public show of real emotions. Just yell if you need me, okay?” She smiles at me widely and I realize she still has her coat on from coming home. She didn’t even stop to take it off before coming and being here for me.

I love you, Sarah.

“I’ll be in my room … Reading.” I sigh, resigning myself to following her advice for once, unable to stop the trembling in my body but my mind is made up, even if every part of me is screaming in fear. Sarah halts and throws me a wink and a smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”