23. Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Two
Twelve times.
That's how many times Jordan and I have sex between Friday night and Sunday morning. Not to mention that we had our massage, went for a hike along the cliff of the beach, hit up the hotel gym, had our meals and explored the sand.
It's a record for me, that's for sure. I'm utterly exhausted.
I made sure to touch every single inch of him, including waking him up both mornings with my hand pressed firmly around his cock.
It's impossible to forget me now, the woman who changed his perspective on love. Maybe that's his twin flame lesson going into his new relationship soon.
I just wish I could hurry up and figure out mine…
As we stand by the side of the road in front of my house, it dawns on me. This is it — this is goodbye.
Jordan's eyes are filled with tears, but I do my best to fight mine back. I don't want his final image of me to be crying. I want him to remember the woman from the hotel, the submarine driver, the oyster eater, the spontaneous lover in the hot tub.
"Our last kiss," he whispers. His eyes glance at something behind me and I know it's Blaise, watching us.
I nod. "Yep."
"I love you, Firefly," he murmurs sadly, leaning down to kiss me.
I return the kiss, tears finally slipping down my cheeks between us. Both of us can feel the goodbye from our lips, and I wrap my arms around his back, clinging to him. He grabs my waist, squeezing me as both of us face the inevitable reality.
"Goodnight, Jordan," I mutter, finally pulling back. His face cracks as I refuse to say the words back to him, despite me wanting to.
Finally, he just nods, accepting his fate. "Bye, Sky."
Before I can change my mind and beg him to stay, I quickly pick up my bag from the sidewalk, turn on my heel and stalk toward the house.
I was right — Blaise is standing at the front door, arms crossed as he glares at Jordan. The two share a look before the latter climbs back into the car, pulling away from the house.
"Are you okay?" Blaise asks softly when I reach him.
"No," I mutter, voice breaking.
He frowns, opening his arms. "Hug?"
I don't hesitate to move into him, letting him hold me as I sniffle.
"Did you have a good time though?" he questions.
I nod against his chest. "It was the best weekend of my entire life," I confess wistfully. "I never wanted it to end."
Blaise gives me a tight, closed smile. "I already have the tequila poured and ready."
Laughing, I brush away a tear. "You're the best. Lead the way."
I'm exactly back where I started — in my bedroom.
It's strange that we have our comfort places. After Jake broke up and ghosted me, I hid in my room. When Uncle Logie died, I was in my room. And now… here I am again.
The only difference is Blaise appears to be on a mission to check on me. He pokes his head in at least once an hour, checking to see if I'm still breathing or need anything.
I'm thankful for it though. At the moment, he's the only reason I'm holding myself together.
Rarely in my life have I found myself in a dark place. Not even the great disaster of Jake Whittaker sent me to the graveyard. Yet, he has.
Fucking Jordan Harding.
I can't stop crying.
At least when Uncle Logie died I had good memories to hold on to. I held onto the reality that death exists and that he would be in a warm, light-filled place. With a breakup, there's rarely a reality check that can make everything seem better.
I couldn't stop thinking about how Jasmine will get to kiss him, touch him, make him laugh. The amazing memories I have with him are nothing more than painful reminders of what I've lost. My future has died and with it, a large piece of me too.
How is it even possible to feel this way?
I spent many months with Jake and despite the shitty breakup, I never once felt alone like this. I was hurt, and mad, but I eventually accepted it. Now that I know what is possible to feel, I don't even miss Jake. That's my biggest problem. I felt a connection that I never knew existed and now it's been ripped away from me in the blink of an eye.
"Are you okay?" comes Blaise's voice for the dozenth time today.
"No," I mutter back, the same response I've given him every time.
He walks in this time, sitting on the edge of my bed. "It will get easier."
"Will it?" I question. "It doesn't feel like this pain will ever go away."
Blaise reaches out, placing his hand on my side. I glance up at him from the bed, my legs and arms tucked into my body like a little kid does when they are scared.
"One day it will stop hurting. You'll find it again."
A tear slips down my face, resting on my nose. "What if he was my only chance?"
"He wasn't," Blaise says firmly. "He's just a fucked up man. A life lesson."
I smile regretfully. "Definitely a lesson. I just wish I knew what it was."
"It will become clearer in time," he nods. "Everything happens for a reason, remember?"
Frowning, I give him a pathetic look, voicing the question that I can't stop asking myself. "Why does it hurt so much? I didn't feel like this after Jake."
Blaise sighs. "I suppose the connection to Jake is making it hurt. But truthfully, I don't think that's the reason. You did nothing wrong. Even if you had known the truth from the start and still pursued the relationship, you probably would have still felt strongly about Jordan. I think it's because of the honeymoon phase."
"The what?"
"The honeymoon phase. When you start seeing someone, everything is rainbow and sunshines. You don't get the chance to go through the bad, so it's all good. And it hurts more when it ends during that time because you were in a place of happiness and bliss."
I nod slowly. "I guess that makes sense. I really thought I was going to marry him, Blaise."
He offers me a weak smile. "I know, babe. But you're strong. I know you'll get through this."
Forcing myself to sit up, I wipe away the tears. "I'm a horrible friend. You're going through a breakup too. You shouldn't have to be playing carer to me."
Blaise waves me off. "Please. Nathan and I were well past the honeymoon phase. We both knew it was going to end, so as much as it sucked, I've moved on."
"Look at us," I laugh softly, trying to ease up the situation. "Two single besties."
"Think of all the mischief we can get up to," he grins. "You'll be sick of me soon."
I snort. "You'll be sick of me long before I ever get tired of you."
Blaise shakes his head. "You're my favorite person to be around. You've helped me more than you know. So," he says, changing the subject. "Are we getting out of bed soon or do we need more time to lay down? Personally, I don't think you should give that asshole the satisfaction of your tears."
"Do you think he's spiraling too?" I ask, hopeful.
It's a horrible thing to wish for. But nothing else could hurt more than Jordan being completely fine while I'm falling to pieces.
"Men are weird creatures," Blaise mutters. "They compartmentalize everything. Even if he does seem fine, I guarantee he's just avoiding it. One day, it will hit him like a freight train."
"I keep wondering if it was all in my head," I admit quietly.
He shakes his head firmly. "You know it wasn't. Don't try to make excuses for him. It was real. We all could see it. And one day, someone else will make you feel like that. But for now, live your best life and show that asshole what he's missing. Let him go be miserable. She'll never be you."
"I hope he doesn't hurt her," I murmur. "Is it bad that I wish them all the happiness even though it kills me inside? I think I'm broken."
Blaise pushes my hair back, tugging it behind my ear. "That my darling is just a testament to who you are. Even in the darkest times, you're still thinking about other people's happiness. That's what makes you a beautiful person. Just remember: your happiness is important too."
"I don't know how to be happy anymore."
"You will," he promises. "It will take time but you will."
I manage to force myself out of bed, determined to not wallow any longer. I'm no good to anyone if I hide away. I need to find a hobby or something to distract me.
Blaise looks up from the couch when I walk into the living room, beaming at me with pride.
"Hey, you," he says warmly. "How are you feeling?"
I shrug. "I'm going to go to the gym."
He tilts his head. "Have you ever gone to the gym?"
"Of course I have… a long time ago," I grumble. "But I read that exercise is good for breakups. Endorphins and shit."
Blaise laughs. "Did you want me to come with you? I'm a member."
Shaking my head, I offer him a small smile. "It's okay. I'm going to go sign up and see how I go. I think it will be good to do things alone. Remind myself that I can do it."
He nods, understanding. "I'll be here working."
I feel a pang of guilt, eyes focusing on his laptop. "I'm sorry. I should be working."
"You're on sick leave," he murmurs. "I officially decided that. You can take a few days or however long you need."
"Don't be ridiculous," I argue. "Millions of people go through breakups. You don't take time off work. Imagine if I said that to Marco."
Blaise rolls his eyes, scratching his cheek. I notice that his nails have been freshly painted their usual black, his silver rings a stark contrast on his hand. "I'm not like Marco. And you've had a rough run lately. Your mental health is important to me. Besides, a few days is not going to kill either of us. You'll feel much better and be more productive once you've had time to process things. I think the gym is a great idea."
"I don't know," I say wearily. "Let's talk about it later."
I have no intention of having any days off work. Maybe just today… but tomorrow, I'm going back to living my life. Like when Uncle Logie died, I need the distraction. If I'm stuck crunching numbers and typing in data, I won't have time to think about Jordan. That's a blessing I crave.
"Alright," he answers. "But remember who calls the shots here."
"Are you pulling the boss card on me?" I scoff, teasing him.
He cocks a smile at me. "Maybe."
Shaking my head, I grab my keys, already dressed in the only gym attire I own — a pair of loose shorts and a racerback top. "I'll be back, boss."
The gym smells of sweat, metal, and something else I can't quite put my finger on.
As I walk in, I'm already intimated by the sounds of machines clunking, large muscled men walking around, and a very fit looking PT at the front desk.
"Hi!" she grins. "How are you?"
I swallow, nervous as hell and awkward. "Hey. I want to sign up."
She nods, reaching for a clipboard. "Have you been here before?"
"No," I mutter quietly. "I'm kind of new to the gym."
I'm worried about being judged, but she doesn't flinch at all. Her warm smile against her chestnut colored hair puts me at ease.
"Well, I'm Jessika. I'm one of the personal trainers here. I'll take you into one of our conference rooms and we'll go through the paperwork together. It's just standard questions about your medical history and any existing injuries. After that, I'll set you up in the system and you can explore the equipment. I'm happy to show you how to use any."
I nod, giving her a small smile. Her dark blue eyes scan my face, sensing my nerves.
"It's okay to be scared," she says, leading me to a little room behind the desk. "Walking in the door is the hardest part. It's all downhill from here."
"I hope so," I laugh. "I'm worried I'll make an ass of myself."
She holds the door open for me as I enter, taking a seat at a small round table. "You won't. That's what we are here for. There's other trainers here during staffed hours and we will always give you a hand. Now, take a look at the paperwork and fill out what you can."