Chapter 35
thirty-five
CALLA
I lie awake, staring straight up at the ceiling. In the cool hush of the bedroom, the only sound is Jay softly breathing beside me. The room is bathed in the deep blue hues of early morning. No longer night, not quite morning. It’s just some other, foreign thing.
I came to bed late. I thought about staying at my place… but I couldn’t stay away from his house. I know this might be one of the last times I get to look at his face.
How stupid am I? Anyway, Jay was already asleep. I was hiding from him. Hiding from my feelings.
When I slip into his bed, Jay stirs and turns to me, eyes half-lidded with sleep. “Calla. You okay?”
No, not really. But I can’t tell him that. I’m too much of a coward to risk making myself completely vulnerable to him. If I’m right, the outcome could shatter my heart. So instead, I lean in and kiss him. Gently at first, then insistently.
He pulls me closer, shaping my body with a quiet, sleepy touch. What if this is the last time I get to feel his body pressed against mine ?
It’s slow, drowsy dance. The kind of intimacy that speaks of something deeper than lust. I try to memorize the feel of him. The way his skin warms mine. The way he breathes my name.
"Right here, in your arms.” His words are just a whisper against my bare, heated skin. He wipes the sheen of sweat from my forehead and gives me a husky laugh that I feel right down to my very core. “This is my favorite place to be, Lily."
But does he mean it? A man like Jay has everything going for him. He can have any girl he wants. Would he pick me if we hadn’t accidentally gotten married? I don’t know and the insecurity is eating me alive.
I don’t know what to say, so I settle against his chest, as if that could keep the moment from slipping away.
He means it when he says he loves me. I can tell. But… is that enough to sustain us?
I already know the answer.
Jay's breathing slows and gradually becomes steady and deep. I lie against his chest, listening to the rise and fall, feeling the thud of his heart.
I love him. My feelings only make everything so much more complicated.
When I am certain he’s asleep, I slide carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake him. I stand there for a moment and take in his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, so content. A wave of longing crashes over me.
How can I ever tell him the truth? That I’m terrified of what loving him will cost me? That I don’t know if I can handle the kind of like-but-not love that he’s offering me.
I turn away, biting my lip, and tiptoe to the door. I allow myself one last look. He murmurs something in his sleep. My heart twists. For a moment, I think about crawling back into bed and dealing with this whole thing tomorrow.
But no. It’s better to make the first cut as deep as is necessary to get this man out of my life.
I move through the house on silent feet. The warmth of Jay’s touch is already fading and it invites a chill to creep up my spine.
Going downstairs, I find his office door ajar. I slip inside, closing it softly behind me. The room is neat and organized, the desk piled high with stacks of sponsorship offers, the back wall full of dusty old books. It’s hard to imagine Jay in here flipping through one of the tomes. Maybe they’re just for decoration.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself, then I rifle through the papers on top of his desk. Then I open the drawers one by one. Bills, receipts, a jumble of stationery.
Where are the papers? Did he hide them?
My eyes land on the trashcan beside the desk. Slowly, I peer inside. There, crumpled like yesterday’s news, are the annulment papers.
I reach for them, my fingers hesitant, as if the papers might bite.
I stand, holding the papers like a fragile bird, and stare at the desk. The significance of the discarded documents sinks in.
Maybe Jay meant what he said when he told me he loved me. Maybe he really wants to give us a try.
But if I don’t leave, I will always wonder what if .
What if he doesn’t want to try? What if he doesn’t want me forever? I can’t take the risk. Not with something this big.
I have to leave. I need clarity, independence, time to sort out what I really want. Staying would mean risking everything.
My heart, my career, my carefully constructed life.
With a deep breath, I remove the huge diamond ring from my finger. I sign the annulment papers that I found balled up in the trash. They take no time at all to sign my name to. I place the ring and the papers in the middle of the desk. Then I take a blank sheet of paper and scrawl a note.
The words are simple, but they carry the weight of all my conflicted feelings.
This was amazing. I’ll never forget it. – love, me.
I leave my letter on top of the pile on the desk. After one last look at the ring, at the note, I turn away. My footsteps are heavy as I walk to the door, each step a tear in the fabric of what we could have been.
It takes a few minutes of sneaky stuff-gathering before I’m really ready to leave. Finally, I open the kitchen door and pause, listening to the silence of the house, before stepping out.
The door closes softly behind me as I step into the crisp morning air. It bites at my cheeks, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the house.
This already feels terrible .
I walk down the path, each step measured, purposeful.
At the curb, I pause and pull out my phone. The screen lights up, and I see a missed call from my mother the night before and a flurry of notifications from social media. I swipe them away and open my messages. My fingers hover for a moment, then type: Hi, Chef. I will see you in New Orleans next week. Thanks again for the opportunity.
I read the text three times, making sure it says what I want it to say. This is me moving forward, embracing new opportunities, and committing to a fresh start. This is me being brave.
It’s not me running away from anything. Right?
Feeling my tattooed wrist, knowing that at least one Jay bird will be with me the rest of my life, I exhale a shaky breath. At least that will always be around to remind me of the best two months of my life.
So why am I crying?