Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
After talking to Jackson, I couldn’t fall back asleep. To say that I was emotionally confused was an understatement. One part of me was terrified of this relationship and how much it promised to devastate me. Jackson and I had a lot of unresolved problems around the fact that it seemed like he still harbored some big feelings for Harper. The other part of me was in love with him. After reading the journal, I was starting to get a better understanding of his past and how that had shaped him into becoming the man he was today. I could tell that when he arrived home, and I had not been there, he'd been upset. Anyone would've assumed the worst. After the BBQ I had promised him I'd be there when he got home. I could understand how he'd automatically assumed that I had left him. I hated how that must have felt like such a betrayal to him. I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to shut my brain off.
Functioning on almost no sleep, I staggered out of bed at an ungodly hour, feeling like death warmed over. I packed my bag up and drove to the loft property. I sat in a car and waited until Matt and Julie backed out of the garage and drove off.
The locksmith opened the door, and then my real estate agent and I walked through the place. To say that it was a mess was an understatement. Being neat had never been either Julie or Matt’s strengths.
“Look at this!” Jean looked like she was about to cry.
Two pieces of furniture that belonged to the staging company, a white leather couch and a faux suede wingback chair, had been ruined beyond repair by what appeared to be wine.
“Jean, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for all damages.”
“I know this isn’t your fault.”
Together we walked around the loft, tagging things that belonged to the staging company to ensure it didn’t get packed up and moved.
As angry as I was with Matt, I felt horrified as I watched the movers pack. They'd been instructed to put stuff in boxes and move it out, and they hadn’t been instructed to be gentle or to take care. I stood in the bathroom and watched as they removed a drawer from the vanity and dumped it in a box. Cosmetics and hair products tumbled roughly in. The mover tossed in wet towels on top of everything and sealed the box shut.
The cleaning company arrived after the movers finished and they started to make their way through the loft.
I walked into the kitchen. The stove was filthy. It was beyond me how anyone could be so messy.
My phone dinged with a text from Jackson.
Jackson: How’s it going?
Me: Tired. Beth is meeting me for a late lunch, and then I’ll be on my way home.
When had that happened? When had Virginia started to feel like home?
“What the hell’s going on?” Matt’s voice sounded from the door.
“Matt,” I turned around, anxiety shooting up my spine. “What are you doing here?”
He looked around the place, “I repeat. What the fuck is going on here? ”
I heard more footsteps, and then Julie appeared at the door. She looked around in shock. “What are you doing in my place?”
My eyes widened. “This isn’t your place. I own this loft.”
Matt strode in. “Where’s all our stuff?”
I handed him the invoice to the storage facility. “Your stuff has been packed up and stored in a storage locker.”
Julie took off up the stairs, and a moment later we heard her scream, “Matt. Everything's gone. She stole our stuff.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed at me. “You think this is a joke?”
“Not at all but you can’t move in here. I own this place. I’m trying to sell it.”
“Well according to the Land Spouse Protection Act, I have just as much right to be here as you do. You can’t sell this place without my express permission.”
“Not according to my lawyer,” I tried to bring air into my lungs.
“You supported me, Emily. You think you can just up and walk away from those responsibilities? There are laws against that.”
Julie flew down the stairs. “That stupid bitch stole everything. Where are my clothes? Where is my makeup? You took everything you stupid cow.”
“Hello!” Beth called out, appearing in the doorway. She stopped in her tracks as she took in Julie, Matt and myself.
Julie rushed at me. Rage etched across her face. “I hate you.”
I didn’t see her hand, but I felt the slap. I stepped back in shock and felt myself land awkwardly on a stool which tipped over beneath my weight. I flailed and fell back. My windmill arms tried to find something to fight the momentum of my body. My phone flew out of my hand. My cheekbone connected with something cold and hard and then I landed hard on my side, pain shooting up my arm. I took a deep gasp, and then everything faded to black.
I woke up to Beth crouched over me. I winced and looked up at her. Pain radiated up my arm. I lay awkwardly on my side.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” she repeated, gently touching my face, my neck, my shoulder.
“I’m fine, Beth,” I said, not feeling very fine at all. “Can you help me up?”
She put her arm around my shoulder and helped me to a sitting position. “Is the baby okay?”
I put my good arm, the one that wasn’t throbbing, on my stomach. Everything felt fine. “Yeah, I think so, but something is wrong with my arm.”
I cradled my sore arm in my good hand. My wrist already looked swollen. I couldn’t move it.
“Oh that looks disgusting,” Beth stared at my arm with wide eyes.
I looked around the loft. “Where did Matt and Julie go?”
“They took off,” she rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Seriously?”
“They were like two fleeing criminals at a murder scene.”
I touched my face gingerly. I was getting a goose egg right below my right eye, but no blood. I must have hit my face against the side of the island.
“I think we should get you to the hospital,” Beth helped me to my feet and put me on a stool.
My phone buzzed.
Jackson: What time is your flight? I’ll pick you up
“It’s Jackson. He wants to pick me up from the airport.”
Me: I land at 5:30 PM
Beth and I stared at each other.
“He’s going to be a serious level of pissed when he sees your face,” Beth breathed.
“Understatement of the year. Can you take me to the hospital?” I asked as another wave of pain washed over me.
Beth drove me to the hospital in my rental car where they immediately assessed me. The baby was fine. Wrist, not so much. My wrist sported a hairline fracture which did not require surgery, but it did require a cast. I didn't have a concussion, but I was getting a black eye from where my cheekbone had connected with the granite corner of the countertop. I had a swollen goose-egg bump on my cheekbone. My face felt like it was on fire. Don’t even get me started on my wrist. The pain that radiated up my arm made me nauseous.
Once I was cleared to leave, Beth drove me to the airport and promised to return my rental car. We parked, and I looked over at her. “I feel so bad that instead of going for lunch, we sat in the hospital.”
She reached out and hugged me. “Are you okay in Virginia?”
I hadn’t shared with her anything about Harper or how things were going with Jackson. I didn’t have the emotional energy. I awkwardly patted her with my good arm. “Everything is great.”
She studied me. “Will you call me when you get there?”
“I’ll text you tonight,” I compromised.
She reached over and hugged me. “Take care.”
“You too. We’ll talk soon.”