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The sun is fucking gone…in case it wasn’t clear enough.
“Jesus,” she mutters as she finds me on the floor. Her shoulders heave with a sigh, and she reaches out to help me up. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks, walking back into the house. She starts pulling groceries out of the reusable shopping bags she carried in. I tried grocery shopping yesterday, but I walked in, took one look at the carts she used to ride on and the seaweed snacks by the counter, and I skipped the shopping and beelined for the overpriced Whole Foods bar instead. Apparently, they have a three-drink maximum, but if you’re Alexander Caldwell and you flirt with the bartender enough, she’ll serve you five.
“Not really,” I answer, pulling the cookies she knows I love out of the bag and ripping open the box.
“I’ve never seen you this bad, Alex.” There’s a hint of a smile on her face, and it’s making it very hard not to lose my shit.
I don’t have an answer to that, so I simply shrug, tossing a cookie into my mouth.
“Can you fix it?”
The idea of explaining it sounds exhausting, so I lean back on the stool and rest my head against the cool quartz countertop. “It’s complicated, Char.”
“Complicated is good, Alex.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap back, losing my patience.
“It means that every relationship you’ve suffered in the past had a pretty simple demise. You cheated on her, she cheated on you. You stopped calling or you lost interest. Complicated means there were more complex feelings involved, and I’m not gonna lie, Alex…this is what you needed.”
“I needed to have my heart ripped out of my chest?”
Finally, Charlotte sits down on the stool opposite me. “I’m going to need more information. I have nothing but time, but first, you need a shower.” She waves her hand in front of her, and I can’t help but laugh. The most I’ve really showered in four days is a couple cold dips in the pool to stave off the raging hard-ons.
“Fine. Make me something to eat, and I’ll tell you about it when I get out.”
The shower is exactly what I need. The hot water beats down on the stiff muscles in my neck and shoulders, further proof that I’ve been sleeping like shit.
When I come out, my sister finishes grilling a panini on my stove and passes me a plate that smells like roast beef and peppers, the first hot meal I’ve had in days. Over our lunch, I tell her the basic rundown: Sunny leaving for the internship, the conversations we had before the end, the fights, the silent but mutual acceptance that she needed to do this on her own.
After I’m done, I’m surprised to find my sister’s eyes moist and red-rimmed. “What?” I blurt out, seeing the emotion on her face.
“I wanted this for you, that’s all.”
“I feel like a teenager,” I sigh. “Lovesick and missing my girlfriend. It’s pathetic.”
“And you don’t think she’ll come back when the program is over?”
“I don’t want her to, Charlotte. Sunny has her whole life ahead of her. She’s going to get jobs all over the world. I’m forty fucking years old. She doesn’t need me weighing her down.”
“Alex,” she says, putting her hand on my arm. “I’ll admit, I was skeptical at first. I thought you were back at your same old tricks, getting in bed with a teenager. But when I came over and saw you two together…I’d never seen you happier. And not just a superficial happy either. Sweetie, you were more yourself with her than you ever were without her.”
It's hard to breathe. I know what she’s saying is true, and I was happy with Sunny. But it doesn’t make anything easier. She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
“I’ll get over it,” I mumble, moving crumbs around on my plate.
She laughs quietly. “No, darling. You won’t.”
Her words stay with me for the rest of the day. And something about the hot meal and hot shower has me feeling energized, more than usual. My mind is running a mile a minute, and I desperately need something to busy my hands, so I glare at the stack of boxes in the corner of the living room. Putting a little music on the Bluetooth speakers, I start opening them one by one.
As I hang pictures and arrange books on the shelves, I replay every moment with Sunny from the first encounter to the very end. I remember the first time I wanted to kiss her, when she came over and stared at that blank wall, and I remember the first time my lips finally touched hers.
A play-by-play runs through my mind as I work from one room after another. By the time I finish unpacking the last box, working through the memory of her bent over the couch, knowing it was goodbye, I’m spent.
So spent, I fall asleep on the shag rug in the middle of the living room.
