You Know I Love You (You Are Mine #3) - Willow Winters Page 0,27

need to deal with this mess.

It is such a chaotic mess; I’m not sure how it possibly got worse than it was. A mix of emotions and desires that thrashes me side to side like an unforgiving earthquake. The only thing certain is that I can’t stand on my own two feet. At least not without a cup of coffee.

A sarcastic huff of a humorless laugh leaves me as I round the bottom of the stairs and head to the kitchen, a pitiful smile adorning my lips. Ask and you shall receive; I’m a spiteful self-fulfilling prophecy.

All the plans I had are threatening to blow away like the stubborn seeds of a dandelion. Marriage, traveling, success and recognition. Then what? A small bump at my stomach cradled by his hand on top of mine.

Using the wineglass from last night I left next to the sink, I fill it with water and pour it into the back of the coffee maker, remembering the days when having a child was on my mind. Back when my career was only a long shot of a dream, when my time was monopolized by Evan and we owned the world together. We could be and do anything we wanted.

I slip a fresh coffee pod into the machine and turn it on as I remember how he’d hold my belly and plant a kiss there, just below my belly button, telling me what a wonderful mother I would be one day to his son.

With my throat tight I admit one thing: we were fools. I knew this would never last. I knew it back then. Just like I know it now.

I bite the inside of my cheek and take in a heavy breath, slipping the ceramic mug with Rise and Shine scrolled on the side under the spigot to the coffee machine.

My bare feet pad on the tiled kitchen floor as I open the fridge and search for the creamer, ignoring the old dreams and memories being dredged up. I stare longer than I should at the empty spot on the shelf. I can’t even remember to get creamer. My teeth grind back and forth and the throbbing comes back with a vengeance to my temples.

I slam the fridge door shut as the coffee maker sputters to life. It’s quite something when you’ve fallen so hard that a mundane task like going to the grocery store is enough to push you over the edge. Maybe I’ve truly gone crazy.

The creak of the front door opening is the last thing I need right now. The door closes softly, as if Evan didn’t want to wake me. I wipe under my eyes and push my hair out of my face as I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, waiting for him to make his way in here.

I can’t explain why I feel guilty. It’s all I feel, like everything I’ve done is wrong and I’m the one to blame. Is this normal? I feel like this is what I deserve. Like somehow I’ve orchestrated all of this just so I could feel lonely and miserable. Maybe I had it too good and I decided I needed to go right back to the mental space where I used to feel like I was drowning.

“Morning.” I hear Evan’s voice and the sound of a plastic bag crinkling before I see him.

My lips part to tell him good morning, but then I catch sight of him.

He looks tired, his scruff a little too grown out, his dark hair a little too long and a bit of darkness under his eyes. For the first time I’ve laid eyes on him, he looks older, more mature but still as handsome as ever.

It all brings me to an abrupt halt. His jaw tenses as he rests the bag on the counter and then looks over his shoulder at me. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, barely looking at me before turning his attention to the corner cabinet and grabbing a mug for himself.

“No,” I say, forcing out the word. “Evan …” I try to keep talking but my heart slams at the same time that Evan shuts the cabinet and turns around to face me. He leaves the stark white mug on the granite countertop where it clinks in protest, and I stare at it, rather than at him.

I have to spend time away from him. That’s what I need. To get used to being alone again and stopping this back and