to hold my own at work. And I’d swear on everything holy that Damian has feelings for you. He loves you. I could see it.”
I shrug helplessly. I want to hear the words, but they don’t actually help. Because no matter what she saw in him, he still broke things off with me without any hope of a future. “I don’t know. I think he probably did have some sort of feelings for me. But they weren’t love. Or if they were, they weren’t enough. It’s over.”
Melissa shakes her blond head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me. It seems like we’re missing a major piece of the story.”
“I know enough. Anyway, if we talk about this anymore, I’m going to fall apart again. And I’ve done enough of that. Talk about something different. Anything.”
After a minute of musing, Melissa’s face perks up. “Oh. I know. Chelsea’s pregnant.”
“What? That’s great! When did you find out?”
“Just yesterday. I mean, she and Owen have known for a long time. She’s already three months along. But they only told us yesterday.”
“You sound annoyed. Isn’t that kind of normal? To wait to tell people?”
“Maybe. But I can’t believe she managed to keep the secret the whole time! She’s terrible at keeping secrets!”
Her outraged tone makes me laugh a little. Not a lot, but it’s better than nothing. “Do they know if it’s a girl or a boy yet?”
“Not yet. Chelsea will probably have a girl.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know.” Melissa gives an exaggerated shrug. “It’s Chelsea. Doesn’t it seem like she’d have a girl?”
“Yes,” I agree, laughing again. “It kind of does.”
Melissa stays for a little while longer, talking about casual topics that distract me. When she leaves, I’m glad she stopped by, and that’s not a statement I can usually make after an unexpected visitor.
My mother still isn’t home, so I check my phone, see there are no messages, and then close my eyes and try to drift off for a few minutes. Just a light doze might help me feel better. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and my eyes are dry and aching.
I wonder if Damian has come by the condo yet. He said he was going to get the rest of his stuff today. He still has a key. He can come anytime he wants. I assume he’ll leave the key when he goes, although we never actually discussed it. He’ll probably leave his fake wedding ring too.
I’m still wearing mine on my left hand.
I didn’t want to be at the condo when he took all his stuff away. Most of it’s in the guest suite, but not all of it. He’s got books scattered all over. Shoes and socks and pajama pants left in my closet. Phone chargers in every single room since he’s a little obsessive about keeping his phone charged.
He’ll take it all with him. And nothing will be left of him when he goes.
The condo will be fully mine again.
I left him a short note on the peninsula bar. I’m not sure why. I could have just texted it to him, but writing it on paper felt like less of a risk. It doesn’t say much, but I couldn’t stand for him to leave without having the chance to tell him goodbye.
On that thought, I fall asleep. I assumed I’d just doze, but I sleep for real. I dream. That same old anxiety dream that never leaves me. I’ve hardly had it at all for the past couple of months, but it’s returned with a vengeance now.
I’m chasing Damian. Mile after mile after mile. I run until my lungs burn, my feet bleed. I fall down and break the skin on my palms and knees. I stumble up and run some more. I see him in the distance. He’s always within sight. But his back is to me, and I can never catch up.
I sob from the endless pain of it and call out for him. “Damian! Damian, please!”
I’m here.
I hear the low words in my head, a voice-over narration to my frantic dream chase. I choke out, “Damian!”
I’m here, baby. I’m right here. Wake up.
The words penetrate. I gasp and open my eyes. And I see him. Damian is on the bed beside me, propped up so he can gaze down on me. I make a gurgling sound and reach out for him, and he takes me in his arms.
I cry into his shirt. He smells so familiar. Like Damian.