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She grabbed it and opened the TrueChemistry app and found Matt was still active in her recent matches.
She selected his name, opened a new message, and started to type.
26
From: [email protected]
Subject: Do I hate you?
Claire,
How are you? Not gonna lie, I’ve been picturing you at least a little bit miserable. Maybe like, 25% miserable, 75% okay. Does that make me a jerk?
I’m more like 60/40 if that makes a difference, and I’d quickly shift to 80/20 if I thought you were out dancing and having fun every night and not thinking of me. Some of that’s the anger talking, but mostly it’s hurt. (Also, can we pause here and just acknowledge the things I’m saying right now? Apparently the emotion floodgates are open because I’ve just admitted to being miserable, angry, and hurt in the span of two paragraphs, something I haven’t done in more than two decades.)
For what it’s worth, I understand your choice. It doesn’t make it suck any less, because I don’t see myself coming back from this. Will I date other women? Sure, but the same way I dated women before I kissed you. I’ll never come close to giving another woman my heart.
Because even if you don’t want it, I’ll never get it back. It’s just following you around like a pathetic, lost puppy. Sort of like Gertrude that first week after I moved out. I really think she got attached to you.
We both did.
Anyway, sorry for going off topic. I was trying to say I don’t blame you, and that while I still love you, I hope you find what you’re looking for. I’ll never regret the time we had together, and I’m so fucking grateful for everything you did for me after I got hurt. Except for my parents, no one (and I mean NO ONE) has ever taken care of me like that. You made me feel special, somehow...that a woman like you would go out of her way to spend that much time with me. For a long time I didn’t feel like I was worth very much unless I was doing something that impressed or entertained people. But even in those quiet days and nights in my room when we talked about nothing important, you stayed.
It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen you. Don’t worry—your hair, eyes, and smile will be burned into my brain forever. But only seeing you in my memories and not in person is a certain kind of hell, and one I never thought I’d be in.
I don’t know where I’m going with this, but (1) I got in the habit of writing things down (thanks to you), (2) I wanted to tell you how badly I want to hate you for how this turned out, but (3) I don’t hate you. I love you.
Fuck. Now I’m crying.
Graham
Graham slammed the laptop closed without sending the email. He’d known the second he started typing he wouldn’t send it to Claire, but he wanted to write it, anyway.
Angrily swiping at his cheeks and relieved Chris wasn’t in the apartment to witness his breakdown, he leaned forward and put the computer on the coffee table. Using that sixth sense dogs had, Gertrude snuggled her way into his lap. He fell back onto the couch, aka his makeshift bed, and held his tiny dog, accepting her offer of comfort.
He let himself wallow for a few more minutes before pushing to his feet. He’d been cast-free for weeks now, and was pretty fucking motivated to bust through physical therapy with flying colors. He’d been religious about doing the recommended daily exercises, and continued his upper body regimen and riding the stationary bike set up in Chris’s living room. He’d lost a lot of muscle tone in his legs, which was expected but frustrating nonetheless.
It would be another month before he could climb again, and even then, he’d need to stick to easy routes for a while. He’d take what he could get, and planned to head to the mountains the very day his doctor cleared him.
Staying with Chris had been great for the most part. They got along well, and Chris didn’t mind that Graham came with a dog. But it was hard watching Chris leave for the mountains every few days, knowing if it weren’t for his accident, Graham would have been with him. But he didn’t want to wear out his welcome, so he’d started looking for other places.
Nothing was as good a deal as what he’d had living with Claire and Reagan, which only pissed him off. He tried to direct his anger to a third party, like the drug company who’d priced his mom’s medication so high and effectively reduced his monthly income by several hundred bucks.
She’d had fewer flares since starting the new drug, though, so it was worth every penny.
Speaking of his mom, she presented another issue entirely. She’d asked about Claire several times in the last few weeks. His dad even joined in, and when Graham asked why they were suddenly so interested in her specifically when they’d never been with past girlfriends, his mom had gone and wrecked him.
You were different when she was around, she’d said.It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a woman look at you with interest, but it was the first time you seemed to realize you were worth looking at.
He’d ended that phone call pretty damn quick.
So far, he’d been able to avoid telling them he and Claire weren’t on speaking terms and had effectively terminated their relationship, if he could even call it that. But it wouldn’t be long before they figured it out.
A knock sounded at the door and Graham frowned as he stood. The only entrance to the apartment was directly from the store below, so Chris must have let someone up.
Graham opened the door to find Noah.
