Page 3 of It Should Have Been Me

I wake up and lazily stretch my arms across the bed, only to feel the empty space beside me. He’s already awake. I hear the water running in the shower. For a moment, I consider joining him in there, but I’m anxious, an edgy ball of nerves, and all I want right now is to be alone to sift through my weird thoughts. With all this restlessness coursing through me, the last thing I want is to be touched, so sex is out of the question.

I’ve been like this since my sister emailed me her wedding invitation about a month ago. Shit! That means I haven’t had sex...inovera month? What is wrong with me? I’ve been making excuse after excuse, and that’s all they are. Excuses. A hundred different reasons why I’m not in the mood. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had a headache in the last few weeks. And it’s not because I’m not attracted to him anymore. He’s sinfully gorgeous. And it’s not because I don’t love him anymore. I do. He’s an incredible man. Caring and tender – he would move heaven and earth for me if I asked him to. My dampened libido has nothing to do with him or who he is. This isallme. And with the wedding date rapidly approaching, I’m starting to feel this invitation has somehow highlighted who...he is not.

I groan my exhaustion then get out of bed to draw back the curtains. I love waking up to this sight. Our modest, little apartment has the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. It won’t be the view that greets me each morning for too much longer, though. We’re moving again as soon as we fly back from California. There are so many big things in the pipeline, and I am virtually bursting with excitement for what awaits me in a few short weeks. Ilovemy life. I live on my own terms. I’m my own boss. My sculpting has taken me to the most amazing places all over the world.

The problem with hopping from city to city was that it became addictive. That’s how the travel bug initially sunk its teeth into me, filling my veins with its alluring elixir. I’m a total crackhead now. I live to discover new towns, explore their little gems. Museums and art galleries are always first on my list, and then I’m on the prowl for anything that excites my vision.

In the last year, we’ve seen the sunset on a beach in Bali, watched the northern lights outside an igloo in Kakslauttanen, and got a view from above the clouds at the top of Kilimanjaro. Okay, not the very top. I got altitude sickness and couldn’t make the last five hundred feet. Still quite impressive, though. We’ve been backpacking through Spain, literally walked through Spain for six days, and stayed at a different Airbnb every night. We’ve gone snorkeling at the coral reef. We’ve trekked through the Amazon...but only for a day. I had the constant fear of being eaten by an anaconda and ended the tour early.

And while I love the sights every place has to offer, this man of mine indulges in the food. Whatever local cuisine is on the menu, he’s trying it. And it doesn’t matter if it looks gross or repulsive, he makes me try it, too. I’ve eaten fried tarantulas because of him. But I guess that’s why I love him. He has the same adventurous spark as me, and we go wherever the wind takes us. When I look back at what my life used to be like growing up – living on a tight budget and never being able to splurge – the contrast is astonishing. Almost like a rags-to-riches story, and the best part is that I get to see the world while doing what I love most.

I’m not even going to try to be modest. I am doing very well for myself, and with sweat and determination, I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t have to work every day. A big enough project can fund my lifestyle for up to six months, and I use that time to uncover the secrets of every new place I end up in. Sometimes, it still seems surreal – how I ended up here.

Even though I had written off the possibility of going to college, my friend Connor introduced me to a woman, who was an executive at Heimzim Toys. She loved my work and encouraged me to apply for a scholarship fully paid for by the company. My contract included an internship as a junior toy designer while I completed my degree. If that wasn’t amazing enough, they offered me the opportunity to finish the last part of my contract at their branch in Italy. It was something I couldn’t turn down.

I hopped on a plane with every intention of returning home the next year...but that didn’t happen. Before I even completed my internship, I was offered a short-term job as an artist for an Italian Claymation movie. That one lasted three months, and before it ended, I got another freelance job with a sister company in Sweden. One project led to another and before I knew it, I was hopping between cities, tirelessly trying to keep up with the demand.

I was a one-man show, trying to build a reputation, and each new project kept pushing out the date I was supposed to return home. I was working sixteen-hour days, struggling to juggle everything. My career started taking off. My clients became more demanding. My overseas projects became longer and longer. My trips back home became fewer and fewer. I didn’t want to risk losing all that I had built by flying back home every two months.

My relationship with Scott took a lot of strain. We tried to make it work long-distance for about a year and a half, but then one day...he just dumped me. I didn’t even see it coming. I knew things were rocky between us, but I was not expecting thatat all. He’d told me on many occasions that he would support me in pursuing my dreams, but that was nowhere near true. His support ran out very quickly and the brutality of how he ended it whacked me like a shovel to the head.

I begged him to reconsider. He refused. I tried to reconcile. He wasn’t interested. After about three months of beating a dead horse, I gave up. I didn’t have a reason to go home anymore. Truth be told, I felt too hurt and betrayed to risk seeing him again if I went back, so I threw myself into my career instead.

I cried all the tears I had to cry, then got rid of everything that reminded me of him. The only thing I held on to was the engagement ring he gave me. I didn’t have the heart to pawn it or sell it. He used a chunk of his savings to buy it for me when he didn’t have much. Knowing what he sacrificed, I couldn’t get rid of it. I still can’t, so I simply moved it to my middle finger and carried on with life.

Looking back at it now, I still can’t believe we were engaged. He proposed to me one beautiful summer afternoon on the beach. The asshole wrote it in big, bold white letters in the sky. When I said yes, I thought we would be together forever. But then life got in the way. Plans got derailed, and we both ended up in two different places. He wanted to settle down, and I...didn’t. Not yet anyway. I wanted to see the world first, live life to the fullest before I put roots down. I asked him so many times to come with me, but he had a passion, too. He wanted to teach, and he couldn’t leave it behind. To this day, the irony still gets to me. I helped him discover his passion, and he helped turn mine into a career, and in the end, those very same passions tore us apart.

Eventually, the distance between us grew so wide, we couldn’t find our way back to each other. He ended it abruptly over a video call one day, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. But that’s about to change because he’s the best man at my sister’s wedding. On the few occasions that I visited home, I actively avoided him. I told my mother to make excuses as to why he couldn’t come over during those few weeks. I just couldn’t bear to see him again. He ripped my heart out the day he ended it and then every day after that, when my incessant calls went unanswered. I still don’t want to see him again, but I can’t avoid him this time. It’s impossible.

“Good morning,ma chérie.”

JP’s sexy French accent sweeps over me and pulls me out of my thoughts. I smile, glancing over my shoulder to look at him. He’s wearing nothing but a towel and his skin is still glistening with moisture. Although he’s more on the thin side, he’s still well-defined, but it’s his distinct features that I find most attractive. Sharp nose, square jaw with the cutest cleft in the middle of his chin. That face is definitely a sight I could never get bored with.

“Good morning, love,” I reply, my voice still gruff with sleep.

He rakes a hand through his shoulder-length, blonde hair as he walks toward me. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asks, lightly touching my cheek.

I almost sayfine, but then I remember the excuse I made up last night. “Okay,” I say, faking a groan of discomfort. “My stomach is still cramping. I’m sure it will get better soon.”

“Maybe you should reschedule your flight. I don’t want you on a plane all by yourself for twelve hours when you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’ll be fine, JP.”

An exaggerated groan precedes his response. “Gah, I hate when you call me that. Why is it so hard for you to say Jean-Pierre?”

“It’s not hard, it’s just long. JP is short and concise.”

“But not sexy,” he counters with a grin.

“Would you prefer...”

“Don’t even—”

I try to put on a French accent, but even I have to admit that it sounds more like a drunk Gérard Depardieu. “Jean-Jean, my little bon-bon.”

He lets out an irritated grunt mixed with a chuckle and playfully slaps my ass. “I hate that even more.”

“What?” I giggle. “That was very sexy. Did it not get you...hard?”

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