on my career, growing my viewership and listeners and followers, and everything was great. What on earth made me think I could have any kind of relationship, never mind with someone like Josh—talented, dedicated to his sport, smart, and funny, but also wounded, still carrying scars of a tragedy that happened years ago?
Which is what got us into this mess.
I pluck another chocolate from the box and take a bite.
I thought I was learning to slow down and analyze things better before acting. I shouldn’t have assumed that Josh and I had the kind of relationship where I could get all up in his business.
I realize that I’m beating myself up over this and that’s not going to help. I’ll just let myself stay immersed in this misery for, oh…a year or so. Ha ha, kidding—just for a couple of days. Then I’ll get back on my stationary bike and pedal hard and work hard and just be happy with what I’ve got.
Suuuuuure.
I can’t help but relive so many Josh moments—our dirty hockey talk recording my podcast, making him go on the bumper cars, him teaching me to skate with so much patience. Him finding out I was a virgin and being so gentle and thoughtful.
My insides go all soft and mushy again, even as my heart cracks open wider. Telling yourself you shouldn’t have fallen in love is easy, but getting over it doesn’t happen just like that. Especially when I’m pretty sure I found my guy. My person. And that’s so, so sad.
The hockey game starts at seven. They’re in Columbus tonight. Maybe I’ll watch it. I probably shouldn’t. Nah, I won’t. I’ll watch more Dr. Pimple Popper videos, although I think I’ve now seen them all. More than once.
I know I’m going to watch the game.
I drag myself off the couch and make popcorn, just to change things up from chocolate and rosé wine. Then I snuggle back into my fluffy blanket, wearing the same PJs I put on Saturday night. I should probably shower at some point.
That seems like a lot of trouble, too.
The game is nuts. I mean, in a good way. The Bears score twenty-six seconds into the game. Then again about five minutes later. And again near the end of the first period. They’re on fucking fire.
This kind of cheers me up.
Things get heated as the first period ends. It seems that Columbus is frustrated. The Bears are just shutting them right down. This results in a roughing penalty that gives the Bears a power play for the first one minute and forty-four seconds of the second period. Excellent!
Josh scores a goal right away on the power play, with a blistering shot from the point. I laugh out loud and clap my hands.
I still care.
I watch him and Easton hug after, then skate back to the bench laughing. My heart bumps in my chest and I stare at the TV screen. “Oh,” I say out loud. “Oh yes…” And a smile tugs at my lips.
I don’t know what happened between them after Josh stormed out Saturday night. But it looks like I at least didn’t make things worse. God, I hope, I so hope, they’ve talked about stuff and worked their shit out. That would be wonderful. And would make me feel better, knowing that they’re okay, even if Josh and I aren’t. I want so much for Josh—everything. I want him to be happy.
I brush away one lone tear. I’m not going to cry again.
The game ends up in a six–nothing win for the Bears, a shutout for Colton. I’m beaming and cheering out loud as they all bump helmets with Colton.
I fall back into the couch cushions. I’m sad and heartbroken for myself, but I’m happy for Josh and the team.
* * *
—
Wednesday morning. This should be the end of my allowed wallowing. I lie in bed debating whether to get up, or nah.
Okay, I have to do this. I can’t live my life like this. This is different than when I was depressed in college. Now I have a passion that requires focus and commitment. I don’t have Josh. But I’m alive. So I drag my ass out of my lovely, comfy bed and change into workout clothes.
At Ignite, I’m nearly whining out loud, “I don’t want to do this. I don’t waaaaant to do this.”
But I climb on the cycle for the class and once my legs are moving and I’m into it, it’s one of