A Love Like Ours

Chapter 7

A loud, insistent buzzing sounded, yanking me back into an awareness I didn't want.

Awareness of my legs, which were exhausted from walking around aimlessly for a good chunk of the night. Awareness of my hands clutching the pillow beneath my head, now stained with my tears. Awareness of my breath, tainted by alcohol, by the self-hatred that came with each exhale for what I did to myself last night. Awareness of my chest, the way it felt like a block of cement, and the way my heart was somehow still beating weakly inside.

My eyelids fluttered open just as the buzzing stopped, and the awareness became unbearable when memories from the night before came flooding back.

Madelyn.

Engaged.

Not to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping to disappear back into the darkness, hoping to become as unaware as I could, given the circumstances.

And I was almost there when the buzzing started again. I groaned, and my head started pounding with the sound. I couldn't even lift it to see who it was, who had the nerve to call me after what I'd been through last night. So I let it go again, hoping that whoever it was would just leave me alone.

But now, the thoughts wouldn't leave me alone. The image of her standing there—her pink dress fluttering about her in the wind, which also lifted her hair from her shoulders and away from her tear-stained face, all while that fucking ring sparkled on her finger—wouldn't let me be.

I was awake. I didn't want to be. But my eyes were open.

I didn't get up. Had no will to move as my eyes adjusted to the harsh brightness of the world. I just stared at the ceiling, at the crack of daylight peering through the drawn curtains, at the round, black lampshade that hung a little crooked on the lamp in the corner, at my trousers, which were hanging on by one pant leg at the end of the messed bed.

I'd practically ripped them off last night in my hurry to get under the blankets and just let myself fall apart. Because I had to hold it together until I was safely in the room.

Jim had looked at me a bit funny when I'd gotten into the car last night. But I was already two beers deep and feeling it. It didn't feel good either. It felt... heavy.

"What the hell happened?" he'd asked, turned fully around in his seat to stare at me as I climbed into the car.

I tossed my empty water bottle in before me and set the rest of my beers down in the middle of the seat before closing the door behind me.

"You -" I hiccuped. The words still came out in a low mumble. "You don't want to know."

But apparently, he did.

"She didn't dump you, did she?"

I sighed, felt my lip quiver, bit it hard to stop the tears.

"She's... engaged."

The words were forced through my clenched jaw, past my lips on a quick breath, and they came out harsh, only because I was still fighting back emotion, all of the anger and hurt and disbelief, not because I was mad at Jim.

But from the sound of my own voice, it would certainly seem like I was.

He stayed quiet for several moments afterwards. And I couldn't meet his eye, couldn't see my pain reflected there in the pity on his face. I took another look pull from my beer instead.

Jim sighed a bit later, his hand patting the back of the passenger seat headrest a couple of times. "Hang in there, kid," he said, and he turned around, put the car in drive. "Let's get you home."