Page 116 of Body Shot

Please, please, please, don’t let me lose my baby…

FORTY-THREE

Anders

I’m a fucking mess.

And now that the initial shock of the breakup has worn off, I’m pissed.

I was as kind and patient and loving as I could have been for Claudia, and she just dumps me because some guy at work is more interesting? Smarter than me maybe? I still believe there’s something else going on, and it’s frustrating as hell that she did it on the phone without even having a real conversation. It was almost an afterthought, which doesn’t sit well with me.

I haven’t been able to look at another woman, which sucks for me, and I’m definitely not playing as well as I should be. I can’t bring myself to give a shit about what happens during the games when everything in my personal life has gone to hell in a hand basket.

This breakup has impacted every aspect of my life, and deep down, I know I’m not going to get past it without some kind of closure.

An idea has been brewing all week and as I stare up at the ceiling, I know I’m going to do something rash.

Like get on a plane to Philadelphia.

On Thanksgiving.

And force her to have a heart-to-heart conversation with me.

I don’t know what I’ll do if I find her with a new boyfriend, but somehow, even after everything that’s happened, I don’t believe she brought some new guy home just a few weeks after breaking up with me. Of course, I also never thought she’d dump me like she did, so I could be wrong.

Nonetheless, I pack a bag and arrive in Philadelphia around two o’clock.

It’s a cold, dreary day that matches my mood, and I have the Uber drop me off at her parents’ house.

There are no cars in the driveway, and it looks quiet.

Not like a family celebrating a holiday.

I look around a bit nervously, wondering if I’ve made a mistake.

What if she decided to leave on her trip early so her parents went out to eat?

Or if she’s celebrating with her new boyfriend.

Fuck.

I just need to see her.

Talk to her.

Tell her how I feel.

And then, if she can look me in the eye and tell me she doesn’t love me, I’ll go.

Because my heart isn’t getting the message, which means I haven’t been able to move on.

I’ve just stepped on the front porch to knock when her parents pull into the driveway in the SUV that Claudia usually drives.

Crap.

I put my bag down and turn, waiting for them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jeff asks, getting out of the car. “Haven’t you done enough?”

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