I haven’t seen Addison. Mostly because I refuse to go on my balcony, and thanks to the paper-thin walls I know her every move. Makes my avoidance of her so much easier. I’m not strong enough to keep my hands off her so my strength comes in keeping my distance.
I’m not sure I’ll survive this week.
The times she showers suck the most. Each morning I find myself with my forehead pressed to the wall, my palms stretched out flat imagining I’m under the water with her, trying to be as close to her naked body as humanly possible.
I miss the taste of her skin, the feel of her moving beneath me. I miss every sound she makes as her body climbs towards climax and the small moans she delivers when she’s finally there. I miss watching her teeth bite her bottom lip right before she comes and I miss the feel of her nails on my skin as her body finally takes over. I miss her stupid coffee mugs and her disheveled state after she tries to keep up with me step for step on our workouts. Most of all, I miss our mornings. I miss her so fucking much it hurts to breathe sometimes.
I don’t want her to go and I don’t know how to convince her to stay.
People talk about love and heartbreak all the time. Songs are written about it, paintings created for the sake of showing the image of one single relationship, thousands of books are written in painstaking detail about that one word, but none capture the feeling of a broken heart. The loss of blood that leaves you weak at the knees, the lack of oxygen making it hard to breathe when your mind so much as travels in her direction. It feels like someone has taken a hammer and swung it directly at my chest.
Emily knew the day Addison returned and maybe she’s right about her girl instincts. For an eight-year-old, her insight is frightening. My mood must have darkened worse than before, relief that she was home and safe, but devastated that she wanted nothing to do with me. I’ve tried my best to keep a happy face for Em, but she’s a kid and they are more perceptive than any adult I’ve ever met.
In the five weeks since Matt showed up with that ring, Emily has been in and out of the hospital. Frequent tests showing the chemo is working, but breaking down her body at the same time. Each treatment gets progressively tougher, and the risk of infection or illness skyrockets. But Em’s tough and she’s fighting this disease with all the strength she has. Meanwhile I’ve been fighting Thomas. My attorneys have won me visiting rights. He can’t ban me, but my time is still limited to an hour. Slowly, they’re working their magic on her adoption and by the time she’s cured, there will be no question where she ends up.
If my timing is right, Addison officially moves tomorrow. I should go over, wish her luck, tell her I love her one last time. Fight harder for her. But the fear I could be one of her regrets, that in the end, she won’t want me because I didn’t give her the time she needed keeps me here, in my home, waiting for my heart to officially die. It feels like being on deathwatch.
My phone rings and I hope like hell it’s not the hospital.
Crap, it is.
“Susie, is everything alright?”
“No, you need to come right away. She’s had a bad reaction to the latest batch of chemo and she needs you, Damian.”
And then I remember—I really am on deathwatch.
I can let Addison go. It’s going to hurt like hell, but it’s not permanent. One day I will get her back. But Emily? If I lose her, it’s a forever kind of hell, one I’m not sure I’m strong enough to endure.
“I’ll be right there.”
Bad reaction. That can mean anything. I can’t take this. It’s too much all in one week. Shit, I can’t breathe. My lungs hurt, and my stomach cramps up. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, my limbs slow and my body not in tune with what my mind knows it has to do.
Emily needs me, but I can’t fucking breathe. If something happens to her . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know what I’ll do.
Racing out of my apartment, I have no idea where Addison is or what