Page 90 of Love Me Like It's Real
I don’t know how, but I need to put an end to this, whateverthisis. I need to find the strength and courage to walk away before I break his heart. Before I break Elsa’s and Arya’s heart. And before mine is broken beyond repair.
Because I don’t know much but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one can get over a man like Felix and I’m no exception.
TWENTY-EIGHT
FELIX
He put his hand on his ear and it caused a ripple effect the likes of which Rocky had never felt. He knew this was special. This bond between them. It was so unique and special and he revered it as such but he also wanted more. He didn’t just want to be respected, he wanted to be ravished too. And he made that known by leaning in to kiss him with the passion that was bursting at the seams inside him.
I pull away from my laptop and rub my eyes. I have been at it all morning and I can’t find it in me to stop. Even though I’ve got client jobs to complete. It’s become a sort of routine as of late. Working on the book during the day, while the girls are at school and the house is peaceful and safe from innocent eyes, and working on client jobs in the evenings, after they’ve gone to bed. It’s a little out of the ordinary for me, but I think I can get used to this kind of work schedule. Especially if it means I have a book by the end of the month. And at this rate, I will.
At least one thing is going well in my life.
I push my chair back and walk up to the coffee maker so I can refill my cup then I mix in some milk and sugar. The hit of caffeine is just enough to wake me up and rev my engines to keep going for more, but I can’t resist checking my phone. It’s still silent. Empty of all notifications I care about.
He hasn’t messaged. He hasn’t messaged for three whole days, going on four. It’s driving me crazy and what’s driving me crazier is the fact it’s driving me crazy.
It’s not as if we’re more than a hookup, right? A very persistent booty-call with a side of fun outings. And yet…
I can’t take Saturday night out of my mind. The way we held each other. The way we kissed or the way we touched one another. It was almost like…like making love, not just doing the deed. And then to top it all off, Sunday lunch at Red’s had been…so normal. So wonderful. We clicked together. He clicked with the girls. We all fit.
But it’s this exact kind of thinking I’ve been trying to avoid. It’s this exact reason I wanted to fake date Hayworth so the girls stop trying to find me a boyfriend at every corner, and look wherethatgot me.
I got myself a complication instead.
And what a complication. This wholethingis ridiculous.I’m being ridiculous. I’ve lost my freaking mind.
This was supposed to be me—us—starting over. Making a home here. Keeping ourselves safe and rebuilding our lives after Mark destroyed our family. And this was supposed to be a break from drama. And what have I done?
Walked myself right into one of my romance novels. Only there’s no guarantee of a happily ever after in real life. If there was, Mark and I would still be together, although the very idea makes my skin crawl, which didn’t used to happen before. I guess Hayworth was good for one thing among others, and that was to make me let go of the image of Mark I’ve been holding on to all these years. It’s as if ever since we divorced I created these two different images of the man I used to love and I let the image of the past man hold me back and trapped in my memories of him but now…it’s pretty clear to me they’re both one and the same. And I may never get the answers as to why he turned so hard on me—on us—but I no longer care.
No.
I couldn’t care about Mark one bit and hopefully I won’t have to if he leaves us well and truly alone.
But Hayworth. I care about him too much and I don’t know how that happened.
When did we go from“let’s scratch each other’s itch”to “every moment away from you feels like torture”because I sure as hell didn’t sign up for the second part.
I can’t take this anymore.
I unlock my phone and shoot him a message. I’m not going to be one of those people. One of those people who play games and only get themselves deeper in the hole while the other party is oblivious to any angst they cause.
Felix:
Hey! I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Are you doing something tonight?
There. It’s done. I’ve been the adult. I’m not waiting for the other guy to message me so I can dissect every letter of his text. I’ve been open. If he wants to meet me, the ball is in his court. If he doesn’t, I’ll know where we stand.
I leave my phone by the coffee maker so I can resist the urge to check it every two seconds and return to my manuscript that’s growing by the day.
It might be Hayworth who got me out of the creative block I’ve had all my life but it doesn’t mean he, or my obsession with him, gets to control what I do with this newfound inspiration.
I return to Rocky and Hart and continue the chapter I’m working on. At least they’re reliable. Pliable to my own will with a predetermined fate.
At two-thirty, I put everything aside and make my way to school, early for a change, and pick up the girls and we head straight home so I can get dinner started.
“When is Hayworth coming home for dinner, Poppy?” Elsa asks, raising her head from where it’s buried in her schoolwork.
