Page 179 of Scandalous Contract
At least then, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with a broken woman. Days turned weeks, and life continued on without Julian with me. But it didn’t feel the same. Things were getting better between my daughter and I. I guess.
She’d been texting more lately. She’d apologized for yelling, for storming out, and for the things she said out of anger. I told her it was okay, that I understood. But the truth was, it wasn’t okay. Not really.
I was angry. Not just at her, but at the situation, at myself. I had always put her first, always made sacrifices for her. And now, when I had found something, someone, that made me feel alive again, she couldn't support it.
I understood her reasons, I did. But understanding didn't make the hurt go away. She was still working part-time at the coffee shop. She texted me pictures of her coffee art, and I always replied with little hearts and smiley faces.
But seeing her happy and living her life only made me realize how quickly I was dying inside. I was trying my best not to be selfish, not to be angry, not to be bitter. But this was starting to feel too much like a past I promised myself I’d never go back to.
I was back to drinking my pain away. That night, I poured myself a glass of the whiskey Julian had left behind. The amber liquid caught the light from the television, reminding me of his eyes.
I took a sip, the warmth spreading through me, but it didn't chase away the chill in my bones or the ache in my chest. Later, lying in bed, I opened my phone and found myself on Julian's social media page.
There was a new post that read:I’m grateful for another year. Thank you all for the birthday wishes.
My heart clenched. I had forgotten his birthday. Tears welled up, spilling over as I stared at the screen. I whispered into the darkness, "Happy birthday, Julian." The words felt inadequate, lost in the silence of the room.
I wanted to tell him happy birthday on the post, but I didn’t have the right to do that. I drifted off to sleep with tears streaking down my cheeks, the glow of the phone fading beside me. It was Julian’s birthday and I couldn’t be with him. Not this year. Not next year. Not ever.
Life wasn’t fair at all!
***
JULIAN
––––––––
HOME WASN’T HOME ANYMORE. I’d walked through my front door every night for the past few weeks and dropped my keys on the counter like I used to at her place, like my muscle memory refused to update.
And it needed to be updated because there was no counter there. My keys clanked to the floor every evening. And then it all came back to me. This was my place, not my home. Home was where Stefanie Adams was.
The silence hit me next, thick and absolute. No laughter drifting down the hall. No one waiting on the couch for me to come home. No one smiling at me and reaching for me, ready for me to fall into their embrace, to fall into them.
Then there was the smell. I missed the scent of cocoa butter lotion. I missed making her breakfast. I missed watching her sleep and hearing her snore. I missed that fucking woman, and I was nearing my fucking breaking point.
Inhaling deeply, I kicked off my shoes, sat on the edge of the couch, and stared at my phone. Still nothing. I had missed calls. Just not from her. I had unread messages. Just not from her. When I opened up our previous texts, there was no little bubble popping up to let me know she was typing.
“Fuck Stef,” I whispered, glaring at my phone, ignoring a call that was coming through from my cousin Bryceson. “I just need to hear your voice, baby. Even if it’s just you telling me to fuck off. Please, baby... call me.”
I waited, hoping this would be the night she reached out to me. Five minutes later, I was still waiting. My phone lit up again. But it was only my cousin Cas. Fuck! I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the couch.
I couldn’t even spy on her anymore. She’d thrown away the bear the day she’d gotten home. I knew because I’d checked the feed, and it was gone. Instead of her room, I’d seen a banana peel on the screen.
She’d tossed the bear into a dumpster like I didn’t mean shit to her. The same way she’d tossed me away. I rubbed a hand over my face, then down my throat. I hadn’t shaved in days. They were starting to call me a caveman at the job sites.
I couldn’t bring myself to care. Neither could I bring myself to eat like I used to, either. Food didn’t taste right without her seated across from me, telling me how good it tasted or moaning over dessert just to watch me squirm.
God, I missed her mouth. I missed everything about her. I missed the way she’d steal the covers, the way she hummed when she cooked. I missed watching her type on her laptop, missed her smile. I missed being hers. I was going crazy not seeing her.
I didn’t care how pathetic that sounded. My days had gone from full to hollow, my nights from hot to cold. Every room in this damn house reminded me of what I’d lost. There was no color here.
This place didn’t look lived in. It looked more like a showroom or a furniture store. I hadn’t even slept in my bed since I’d moved out of her place. I tried, but I just couldn’t sleep in it. I slept fitfully on the couch most nights. Or didn’t sleep at all.
I was slowly losing myself to the dark hole she’d left behind. Others were starting to notice. But there was nothing I or they could do to help me. I needed her. And she wouldn’t even answer my calls.
It was like she was trying to kill me. Without her by my side, life didn’t feel that special after all, anyway. I was starting to think death would be better than this. It had to hurt less than this. But I couldn’t die.
I wouldn’t give up. Stefanie would be mine again. I just had to figure out why she’d left me and fix whatever was broken. I was going to get her back. And when I did, I’d make sure her stubborn ass never left me again.
