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It’s not until the sobs subside that I pull myself upright. I wipe my face dry, sighing and grabbing the remote off the nightstand. I turn through the options and settle on some meaningless reality tv that keeps me company.
And because I can’t help but hurt myself a little more, I go to my little closet and pull out the hoodie Sean gave me on our walk that one day, slipping it over my head and bringing the neck to my nose to breathe him in.
It still smells like him. After all this time. I suppose everything about this place is him.
I crawl into bed, promising myself that this will be the last night I wallow in my self-pity. Starting tomorrow, I’m giving everything that reminds me of him back, and I’m planning my new life.
CHAPTER 41
SEAN
Ican’t fall asleep.
I’m back home, and Astrid is so close, I could just walk down to the basement now and apologize. But it’s knowing how close she is to me that keeps me frozen in place. Keeps my actions frozen in fear.
The night drags on, and I can’t escape the downward spiral of my own thoughts. Everything feels wrong. The bed is too big without her now. The room feels too cold. I drift in and out of consciousness, never really falling into sleep, constantly tortured by my own fears which turn into strange nightmares, keeping me restless and uncomfortable.
When I said that she should move out, her face crumbled. I can’t erase the image. I rub a hand over my face. God, what was I thinking? Fuck. I wasn’t. I panicked. I absolutely fucking panicked. And I let my own fear and insecurity get in the way of the first person I’ve truly cared for.
I roll over, unable to close my eyes without replaying our conversation over and over again. Her pretty face was streaked with tears. She tried to hide it, I think, clearly no longer trusting me. I’ve broken that between us. I’ve broken everything.
Regret gnaws me until I’m depleted and raw.
And now I’ve lost her because she’s happy, happier without me. I deserve the pain in my chest. I hurt her. She should be happy. Even if that takes her away from me.
She’ll move into her new place, go back to her life, forget all about me. And eventually she’ll move on and meet someone who treats her better. And they’ll start a family.
The overwhelming dread of that potential future leaves me shaken. I dry heave, the nausea overpowering. I sit up in bed, pushing the duvet from my legs, unable to stay still any longer.
I can’t stand the thought of her with someone else. She doesn’t belong with another man; she belongs with me. With us. We’re her family.
I pace around the room, not caring that the floor is cold against my feet or that I shiver without the warmth of the bed. She can’t leave. She can’t go. I have to tell her I made a mistake. Maybe if I beg, she’ll forgive me. I can beg until she believes me, and then I can beg some more.
I run a hand through the tangled ends of my hair. I should have never let anyone talk me into thinking Astrid was responsible for my head being in the game or not. I shake my head, more pissed at myself than anyone else. I don’t blame Tommy. I’m a grown man. I know better than to place blame on anyone other than me.
But accepting my responsibility is only half of the plan. I also need to think of a way to get her back.
I glance over at the clock on my nightstand. It is nearly four in the morning. She’ll be awake soon. And I need to put a plan in place to win her back.
Operation Win Back Astrid.
I rack my brain, pulling together all the romantic gestures I’ve ever seen in my life and trying to sort them out as examples for which I can rebuild our future.
I’ll do anything to get her back.
I wait for Astrid to leave for work. I know that she said she’d go to the leasing office today and sign the paperwork after school, I just need to figure out which place it is before she gets there.
Fuck. I wish she would talk to me. I know she won’t tell me anything, but maybe there is something that will give me a hint.
My hand hesitates on the door handle to the basement. I know I promised her I would stay out of her personal space, but I’m sure that she’ll understand. Eventually. I look for an apartment application, or some sign that tells me where she’s going. Then, as if light from the heavens shines down on it, I find her notepad with a phone number circled.
A quick internet search tells me that the office is open. Perfect.
I type the number into my phone.
The phone rings twice. “This is Meredith,” a bright voice answers.
“Hi,” I say. “I uh, my girlfriend just put in an application, I think our appointment is for today. But I need to cancel it.”
