Page 45 of Trouble in Love
Would I ever have that? Would I lick the salty sweat from the hard shoulder of my utterly spent wife? Probably not.
That’s why the next day, filled with shame and a fresh dose of self-pity, I came down with a severe case of self-diagnosed, absolutely faked food poisoning. I couldn’t bear to look them in the face, let alone endure the happiness of others, not when my own always felt just out of reach.
Nate kindly offered to stay behind and nurse me back to health with a diet of surfing, beer, and fish and chips, but I insisted he go with his family.
For the first time in a long time, I had the house to myself, and it was brilliant … for the first few hours. I strutted around in my boxers and rifled through Evie and Nate’s medicine cabinets, searching for the concoction that held the secret to their eternal glow. After my accidental voyeurism that wasn’t so accidental, perhaps I already had my answer, but I’d been desperate to do it since I set foot in the door.
Once nothing but everyday skincare and delicious smelling Banana shampoo was found, I turned to exercise. Completing my Pilates and weights session swallowed up another chunk of time, as did making myself some dinner and eating it while watching aMiracle on Icefor the seven hundredth time. Bedtime was when the boredom, then overthinking, then obsessing set in.
The social media break Doreen and Chris suggested following my wedding day had become a month-long ban after the injury before morphing into a complete lockdown after the bi story broke. But with an empty house devoid of the happiness I thought I needed to escape from, and Polly’s deeds and body consuming my every thought, I needed a distraction.
TikTok was it.
At first, I went nowhere near my profile, just skirting around the edges of the usual fare: cat and baby videos, hockey fights and trick shots that had me itching to strap on the skates, and, of course, thirsty fan edits. To my surprise, after everything that happened, there were still a ton—maybe even more than before.
A false sense of security wrapped over me like a fuzzy blanket. Still, I was cautious.Don’t read the comments. Don’t read the comments.I repeated it again and again for the first ten minutes, so of course, I was soon reading them all. Asexpected, gay jibes and insults, petty shit I wouldn’t even raise a brow over, were peppered throughout. What I wasn’t prepared for, though, were the supportive comments—hundreds on some posts, thousands on others—backing me up.
We love you.
Coming out is a choice. Not an obligation.
They had no right to shame you.
Come back Luca
You still make my heart flip.
It was … overwhelming. A touch of the old cocky arrogance snuck back in. But then … I saw it.
NY Islanders D-man Dallas Brookes expecting first childwithlive-in-lover, actor Clara Nightwing.
They were living in my house and Clara was pregnant. About five months, from what I could see. Doing the math, I figured she must have been about six weeks along on our wedding day.This must be why Ana asked if I’d heard from her.
Suddenly, our wedding day made sense. Maybe Clara dropped the news to Big Daddy the night before … during one of their late-night rendezvous. Perhaps that was the spark that ignited the fuse that fucked my world. Despite everything she’d done, knowing she was having a baby with him… killed me.
The months of accumulated self-abuse, catastrophizing, and woe-is-me-ing erupted. Tears poured down my cheeks. Dad’s cruel taunts,hockey boys don’t cry, echoed in the empty cavern that was my head. “Fuck off. I’m done with that shit.”
I let them fall.
Let them drip from my neck and pool in the sharp crevice of my collarbone. Struggling for each shattered breath, I staggeredout of bed and flung open the window. My clenched fist met the fly screen, and my face followed its path, bursting through and gasping for air. I swallowed the cold night air like it was an elixir for my soul. And it was, because I could smell the sea, taste the salt, and hear the sharp crack waves crashing against the rocks, calling me.
For the second time in my life, I jumped through a second-story window and ran, not toward home this time, but toward the water, and I just kept running.
Luca
Just like the first night in Sydney and almost everywhere I had been over the last few days,shewas the first thing I saw. Leaning against her car looking over the ocean, she was the most stunning creature I’d ever seen. Perhaps it was her, my siren of the sea, that summoned me.
“Are you fucking stalking me? Why are you here?” My words came out harsher than I meant, but it was a legitimate question.
“Why are you?” she snapped, the corners of her lips twitching as she gave me a once over, “Nice Spider-Man PJs, by the way. Did you borrow those from the babies or the toddlers?”
Under normal circumstances I’d have enjoyed her sass, but then and there with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I was too pissed.
“There are hundreds of miles of coastline here, Polly. Why come to this spot?”
All humor drained from her face. “To punish myself.”
“What? What do you mean?”
