Page 71 of Play Pretend

He wasn’t mad at me just because he was busy at work.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

I didn’t ruin anything.

But as I repeated those words to myself, I didn’t believe them. They rang hollow and untrue, and the more I said them,the more they started sounding like a masochistic mantra than affirmations.

What if he really was already tired of me? What if this was him pulling away? What if he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore? What if I was being too clingy?

He’s going to leave you, just like everyone else.

Tears blurred my vision, but I shook the thought away. Of course he was going to leave. That was what the agreement had been.

It wasn’t until that moment I realized how much I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want him to be just another man who was a drifter in my life. I wanted him to stick around, and that thought scared the shit out of me.

It was nearly eleven,and Ronan still wasn’t home. After cleaning the kitchen, I padded around the house, but nothing kept my attention. Movies, a TV show, music…my mind just stayed on my last conversation with him. So I went to bed early, and I’d been tossing and turning for the last three hours.

I flipped onto my back and stared at the dark ceiling. My hands rested on my belly, and I chewed on my lip as I contemplated texting him. But after our phone call earlier, I couldn’t bring myself to contact him again.

I went through a maelstrom of emotions tonight. Reminders of feeling abandoned emerged out of nowhere, and I found myself remembering every path that had led me to this point.

The scar my father left on my soul would never truly heal, and every piece pried from me by the men I searched for love in were there, too. Daniel’s wounds were there, scabbed over andraw, but healed—at least, I thought they were healed until Ronan blew me off.

He didn’t blow you off, I reminded myself.

He wasbusy. It was different.

But that distinction was hard to remember when the feelings were the same.

I rolled onto my side, tucking my hands under my cheek, and stared out the window. Through the sheer curtains, I could see my car sitting in the driveway alone.

Where was he?

When Daniel didn’t come home at night, he was with other women. And even if Ronan and I weren’t exclusive, the thought of someone else curled up in his arms made me feel sick. Something thick lodged in my throat as I stared ahead, my vision blurring. All I wanted was to see his headlights turn down the road. I could almost hear the repeatedhonk, honk, honkas he trudged through the yard to his front door.

Busy, not leaving.

Busy, not leaving.

Busy, not leaving.

The words were on repeat in my mind, playing over and over until I had no choice but to consider that they were true.

Time passed like water through honey, slow and resistant. My eyelids grew heavy as I fought my sleep, the mantra still playing on a loop. I had to stay awake until he made it home. Just so I knew he was safe.

But slowly, I was dragged under, floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep. Images of Ronan flashed through my mind—a golden halo of sunlight framed his face as he smiled down at me, his eyes like sapphires. I swore I could feel his rough, warm palm slide against my cheek, cupping it with a gentleness I’d never experienced from a man before. His face lowered to mine, and my eyes fluttered shut. The rays ofsun heated my cheeks as his soft, full lips brushed against mine, teasing.

There was a sound in the distance, but I ignored it, sinking deeper into the dream.

Ronan’s body pressed against mine, his arm anchored around my waist as he held me to him. He smiled against my mouth, but I couldn’t feel his lips. They were nothing but a barely-there whisper, a phantom promise of a kiss. I was desperate for them, for the taste of him.

I reached out desperately. My palms should’ve grazed his firm chest, but he was yanked away from me. The world around us shifted, and the cold, wet stone walls of the lighthouse surrounded me. Darkness replaced the sunlight, and panic crawled up my chest when I couldn’t find him.

“Ronan?” I called. No answer. “Where are you?”

I spun in a circle, my gaze flitting around the small room. It was too dark, too cold. I couldn’t find him. He was gone.

But then I stopped twirling, and my gaze lifted to the top of the stairs. There he stood, his hand outstretched like an invitation. My feet carried me up the winding staircase. Around and around I went, my breath sawing in and out of my lungs. But with every step up, the further away he got.

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