neck was battled solely by my determination to breathe in and then breathe out and then breathe in again. My head ached. They’d only given me Tylenol since anything stronger wouldn’t be good for my milk supply, so my skull continued to throb, scattering my thoughts and stoking my anger.
We pulled up in front of the house and I tried to get Joanie’s car seat out with stiff fingers.
“Let me,” Nick said. “I’ll take her in. You go ahead.”
I did. I walked carefully to the front door, my neck aching, my head pounding away dully. I walked in the front door to utter quiet. And the first thing that caught my eye was the empty space on the other side of the living room where Sean’s guitar usually sat. It was gone. Even the stand was gone. It shouldn’t have been gone. My fear surged up and I had to admit the obvious. If he’d planned to be away from me for only a little while, he would have written me a note. Or texted me. Or sent a message through Nick. Or at least told his guys to keep me informed. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t.
My breathing was shallow, my steps echoing on the entry floor tiles. They were slow. They were scared. They were heartbroken.
Everything was clean and in its place, just as beautiful as it had always been, but it felt different. It felt wrong. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hold myself together as I walked on stiff legs to the back door and crossed the lawn to the guest house.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t even bother calling out when I went inside. Because I already knew. Before I saw the empty counters, before I saw the too-clean living area. I knew he wouldn’t be there. Even before I saw the note.
It was a sheet of his notebook paper, the one he used to scribble lyrics. It sat in the middle of the coffee table, centered exactly—the house key I had given him sitting right beside it.
I closed my eyes, tears slipping silently past my lashes and down to my chin. Then I slowly forced one foot in front of the other and circled the couch, sitting down in front of that sheet of paper before picking it up with trembling hands, hoping it would tell me he was coming back. Hoping this note wasn’t what I suspected it was.
A Song for Libby was scrawled across the top. The words were scribbled, written quickly, maybe even furiously. There were cross-outs and redos. It was a mess, but it was for me.
Because I loved you better
Because I love you more
Because I can’t live up
To all you need me for
Because I couldn’t live
If you were ever gone
I have to leave my Libby
With nothing but a song
Love means more than taking
Devotion can’t ring true
If my own heart aching
Leads to pain for you
I hurt my shining muse
I hurt my brightest star
I hurt my little Joanie
By being in that car
Sweet Libby, please forgive me
Shine bright, my star, shine on
My hope for absolution
Is a pained goodbye from Sean
I let the paper slip from my numb fingers, unsurprised but utterly betrayed.
I broke down sobbing, my hands pressed to my eyes as I stood alone in that guest house that I had hoped would only be a temporary place for Sean to stay before we were able to knit our lives together under one roof, with one last name.
The pain of it made me double over, my hand reaching out for the arm of the couch to keep myself upright. The pounding in my head came back, the Tylenol not enough to dull the pain under normal circumstances, much less in this moment when I felt like the world was collapsing in on me. I sank to the ground, leaning my shoulder into the front of the couch as my energy drained and I slowly went numb.
I sat there, limp, for a long time. Long enough that I started to wonder if Joanie would need me soon, but I decided that Nick would be smart enough to come find me if she woke up howling. A bitter laugh burst from my lips. Nick the bodyguard/babysitter. I would need to start paying him more. How much did he get paid anyway? And would Sean keep paying Nick to do his job if he was gone? Would I even need protection anymore? Now that Sean had left me…