Page 123 of Something Forever

The only option for surviving right now is preservation mode: work, eat, sleep, repeat. I haven’t been doing much of the sleeping or eating part, even though I’ve tried; I’ve managed to force down some white rice and miso soup, but the knots in my stomach seem to have moved in for good.

Tears, always fresh at the ready these days, prick at the corner of my eyes as I open my laptop. I force my eyes to focus on the website design in front of me and not on the memory of Liam’s pleading I love you. Who knew that the three words I’d been desperate to hear for the past few months would hurt so much when they finally came? Maybe if I loved him less, I’d be able to stick to my conviction that things are done between us, but we’ve spent only a week apart and I feel like my chest has been hollowed out with a shovel. Regardless, as much as I want him to wrap me in his arms and hold me against his chest, I don’t know how I can ever trust him again. I don’t know how to forgive him.

All Rhodes is set to open in less than two weeks, and I’m working on getting our social following up leading up to the grand opening. We’re teaming up with a nearby coffee and wine bar for the launch and offering free consultations for the first week. We already have appointments rolling in, mostly from Shatar’s former clientele.

I’ve spent the past three days doing my best to avoid anything even resembling an emotion, but despite my best attempts, my tears come anyway. I don’t know if it’s pride and happiness at seeing All Rhodes come to fruition, or my heartbreak over Liam, or both, but I can’t seem to stop crying. Luckily, nobody in the coffee shop even glances in my direction. They have enough decency to let me sob over my latte in silence.

After my sobs subside, I head back home. It’s not like I can avoid the place forever. I have to go to bed at some point, and once I do, it’s another sleepless or nightmare-filled night in store for me. Last night, I finally managed a few hours when I suddenly awoke, covered in sweat, images of Liam’s black-inked signature flashing through my mind.

When I get to my apartment, I find a bundle of tulips with an envelope attached to it. Furrowing my brow, I open it to find a letter that stops me in my tracks.

Dear Whitney,

It was my mother’s idea to write to you. She told me that when she first met Simon, the two of them would write letters to each other anytime they would argue. Usually, she’d get out all her frustrations onto the page and then throw the letter away. When I asked Simon about this, he said that while mum was busy writing about what a fool he was, he would use it as an opportunity to remind himself of all the things he loved about her. I liked that idea more.

I love how passionate you are. Seeing your devotion to your dreams inspires me so much. It makes me want to be a better man.

I love how bad at karaoke you are. Like, truly awful. I’ve never been a fan of country music, but your rendition of Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood has become my favorite song in the world. It makes me slightly terrified for what you have in store for me, and thankful that I don’t have a car.

I love that you call me on my shit. You challenge me. Arguing with you is more fun than getting along with anyone in the world.

I love your smile. It deserves a fucking star classification it’s so bright. I’m 99% sure your smile could power a small rat city. (Should we discuss this idea?)

I love your sense of humor. You make me laugh until my stomach hurts. You’re the funniest person in the world.

I love your mind. The way you think about things, the way you solve problems and imagine things that I could never even dream of is so beautiful.

I love your eyes. When I look into them, I feel like I’m looking into my future. So deep and trusting and filled with warmth. Now, every time I picture those beautiful brown orbs, I’m reminded of the painful tears that filled them the last time I saw you, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

I love you so much. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wish you would give it to me anyway. I hope you will.

Yours forever,

Liam

My heart swells with an unexpected warmth. Gripping the letter in my hands, I try and fail to conjure up the anger and frustration of the past few weeks. Instead, all I can find is a sinking feeling of longing, deep in my bones.

I miss him so much.

How is it possible to be this angry at him and miss him this much at the same time? I try to imagine the two of us as we once were — dancing playfully in the kitchen, sleeping in too late, curled together in my bed — but I can’t seem to hold onto it.

What the hell do I do with this? Not just with the letter itself, but with the gaping hole in my heart left in its wake. Part of me is aching to call him, just to hear his voice for a moment, but the other part, the part left bruised by his betrayal swims to the surface.

When I get up to the apartment, I stuff the letter into a box in the very back of my closet. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try my best to erase it from my memory completely.

The next day, I get home from a meeting with Sharon to find another bundle of flowers and a letter. The rational side of me knows that I should just stuff it in the back of my closet with the other one and forget about it entirely, but I can’t stop my fingers from wrestling the envelope open and slipping the letter out.

Dear Whitney,

The florist was out of tulips, so I hope peonies are okay.

Have you ever been to the Cloisters? I went yesterday, and it was beautiful. I tried to clear my head, but all I could think about was how much you would love it there. The blooming gardens, the architecture, the artwork. I’ve been staying with Darius and Jackson, and Jackson had a school field trip, so I tagged along with him on the subway ride uptown. Maybe one day we could go back there together, if you ever wanted to.

I think it’s easier, not being able to see you. I can imagine you reading my words and your face lighting up, the way it does whenever you see something beautiful. You see the beauty in everything. It’s another thing I love about you — the way you see the world with such optimism and hope. You could even see something in me, and I never understood what that was. Why someone as amazing as you would ever give a guy like me the time of day.

I wish I could explain it to you, but it’s difficult. Seeing those papers was like a confirmation of every awful thing I’ve ever thought about myself. It was almost like I’d been waiting for it to happen. Like I knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t want me around for the long haul. That I’d let you down, just like I’ve let down everyone in my life.

I never told you this, because it’s something I have a lot of shame about, but Luke called me that night. I ignored it. I was at a party, and I saw the incoming call, but someone was yelling something about shots, so I rejected the call. Later on, the phone records showed that I was the last number he dialed. I was the one who should have been there.

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