Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
SAVANNAH
Calliope’s Column
It’s Not Him, It’s Me. And I Lost Him.
I’ve built this column by being honest with you. I told you from day one that there are rules when it comes to dating. That if you want a man you’ve just met to keep calling, there are certain things you shouldn’t do.
I did this because my dear friend, a woman who is lovely and deserving of a real true love, kept getting her heart broken when she put it on the line.
My point to her, and I suppose to all of you, was that she should stop putting her heart on the line so early. That she should hold back a bit.
And to prove this, I did all the things she said she normally did, and more, before she was ghosted.
The idea was genius, right? Witty. My articles were clever because I did all the wrong things, and yet I kept the man.
I thought I was the exception because he was exceptional. That’s what I sold you on, right? Because that’s what he sold me on.
I thought that if he’s the right one for you, the rules don’t apply. And I almost had myself fooled into believing that my sweet, romantic friend might have been right all along.
But I was wrong. Because the only reason he stuck around was for a bet.
I’m not the exception.
Any reasonable man would have left after all the things I did, and now that he’s gotten what he wanted, that’s exactly what he’s done.
So yeah, I guess I lost the guy. It’s not surprising, really, since in my experience, no one ever stays.
And maybe that’s the real lesson here. Be enough on your own so that when they leave, you can stand on your own two feet.
You can look at yourself in the mirror and know you’re enough.
I’m working on that as we speak. I’ll keep you posted if I have any suggestions on how to heal a broken heart and how to start loving yourself again.
It’s after three a.m. when I finish the column. For a minute, I stare at the screen. The cursor blinks, taunting me.
You won’t.
But I’ve got zero fucks left to give and nothing left to lose, so I roll my finger over the mouse and hit Submit.
Monday morning, I walk into Jolie with my emotions under lock and key.
I gave myself the weekend to cry. To replay all the shit that went down. And I avoided Josie’s many calls and texts.
So when I arrive at my cubicle, I’m not the least bit surprised to see her sitting in my chair waiting for me.
“I brought you coffee,” she says brightly, holding up the to-go cup from my favorite spot. “And your favorite crumb cake.” With a waggle of her brows, she points to the little brown bag on my desk.
“Thank you.”
She pushes up from my chair and stands. “I’m so sorry, Savannah.”
I eye her. “But?”
“No buts. I was worried about you, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have called you while I was with Camden. It was wrong.”
I blow out a surprised breath. “Yeah, it was.”
When she doesn’t try to downplay the hurt she caused or justify her actions, I’m thrown for a loop. Out of sorts, I ramble on. “But I understand that you’ve known him for a lot longer than you’ve known me. And I get that you were worried about my radio silence.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Still not an excuse. I shouldn’t have done it.
It’s truly that simple. I was worried about you, but that didn’t give me the right to betray your trust.” She sighs.
“I read your article.” She zeroes in on me, her eyes welling with tears.
“You aren’t alone. And I hate that I made you think for even a second that you were.
No matter what you do or who you do or don’t date, we’re family, and I should have chosen you. ”
I take the coffee she’s still holding, set it on my desk, and then fling my arms around her neck as tears rain down my cheeks. “Thank you,” I say through a sob.
She squeezes me back tightly. “Please call me next time. I don’t want you to ever have to put yourself in a bad position for money again.”
I huff a sardonic laugh. “I was flipped upside down, but I’m pretty sure I looked good doing it.”
With a swat to my arm, she giggles through her tears. “Bitch, of course you looked good. You always do.”
I swipe the tears from my own eyes. “Thanks.”
Josie bites the side of her cheek, her voice lowering. “So what happened with Camden?”
Heart clenching, I pick up the coffee and take a long sip, wishing I could avoid the question completely. When the rich flavor of the dark roast hits, a low hum escapes me. “This is so good.”
Her response is an arch of one brow.
I sigh. “I don’t know. It wasn’t good.”
“He was really worried.” She tilts her head. “And sorry. Swore he was going there to fix things and apologize.”
I huff out a sarcastic noise. “Yeah, well he paid ten grand to chat, so hope he thinks it was worth it.”
Eyes bulging, she leans forward. “What?”
“Yup,” I say, making the P sound at the end of the word pop. “Picked up my money from the club yesterday. And I swear, that is the last time I’ll ever go there.”
“Good.” She shuffles over and hugs me again. “Want to grab lunch later?”
I squeeze her back. “Please.”
My computer has just come online when Sienna’s voice crackles over the intercom. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
I pick up the phone and wedge it between my ear and my shoulder as I type in my computer password. “Sure, want me to come to your office?”
“If you don’t mind,” she says, her tone subdued.
My stomach flips with nerves. It’s rare that any of my bosses requests a meeting like this. Considering I went off script with this week’s column, I have a feeling that’s the reason behind the impromptu meeting.
“Of course. I’ll be right in.”
I take another big swig of my coffee, push back from the desk, and stride to her office.
Her door is open when I approach, and when she sees me, she motions for me to come in.
“Hey, how are you?” Her tone is laced with genuine concern. Like she actually knows just how bad I am.
I shrug, swallowing back a wave of emotion. “I’m guessing you read the article.”
She nods. “I did. And I’m not the only one. Have you checked the comments? There are thousands of them.”
My breath wheezes from my lungs. “What?”
She nods. “Your article was honest and beautiful. The entire segment has been. The readers are really connecting with it. They’re leaving comments about their own experiences. How they thought they’d found the one, only to later realize how many red flags they missed.”
I scrub a hand over my face, my heart pounding. “I really didn’t see them.” My shoulders slump and a sigh escapes me. “Honestly, I think that should probably be my last Calliope column. I think I need a break from writing about my own life.”
Sienna pushes back and stands, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor as she rounds her desk. With a gentle smile, she perches on the edge, much closer to me. “I don’t want to overstep…”
She pauses there, the silence making a nervous energy race through me.
“But before you do that, I think you should see this.” She pushes her phone into my hand.
My stomach drops. I don’t even want to look down. If this is what I think it is, I’ll be livid. If Camden has used his connection with my boss to send me a message…
When all I do is stare at her, she points to the phone. “Don’t kill the messenger. The advertiser paid a lot of money for this.”
Confusion shrouding me, I finally tuck my chin and focus on the screen.
How You Get the Girl:
It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.
My stomach flips.
“I’m going to give you some privacy.”
Blinking, I look up at her, and a tear breaks free, trailing down my cheek. Swiping it away quickly, I shake my head. “No. I’ll go back to my desk.”
She snags a tissue from her desk and hands it to me.
“Take it from someone who pushed away the man who loved me for a good long while and made him work for it,” she says.
“Let him put in the work. But make sure you do too. You deserve to be happy. Your job is safe. Take the time you need away from the column. Calliope will be here when you’re ready. ”
Nodding, I mutter a thank-you. Then I rush out of her office. Instead of going back to my desk, I head to the bathroom, and when I’m safely locked in a stall, I slip my phone from my pocket and search for the article. Then, through blurry, tear-filled eyes, I read every heartbreaking word.
How You Get the Girl:
It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.
I’d like to think that with or without Calliope’s Column or the bet, I’d have called *Calliope* after I met her and asked her out on a first date. But I’m not sure that’s completely true, and since I’m determined to get this right, I’m going to be as honest as I can.
Without the bet, maybe I’d have run for the hills the first time she mentioned kids, but I don’t think so. To be honest, the bet was the last thing on my mind the night I met her. When we stood together, just the two of us, that first time, the world stood still for a few minutes.
But regardless of what might have happened, there was a bet. My friend’s wife pointed out that I rarely go on more than a date or two with a woman before moving on. She said if I made it three months with one woman, she’d give me something that meant a lot to me, so I agreed.
I didn’t date Calliope, pursue her, or fall in love with her to win that bet. My reasons were far more selfish. I did it because Calliope made me happy. Because for the first time in my life, I really was thinking about kids and marriage and settling down.
But I should have told her about the bet. The funny part is, if I had, she would have laughed. She would have gone along with it too. Because we both knew we’d make it to that three-month mark. We both knew that what we had was forever.
So, Calliope, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry that I let you think, even for a moment, that it was about anything but you.
I asked her to come back home, but she said no. And you know what? I’m glad. I need to earn her, and I can’t do that until I fix me.
But here’s my promise to you, baby girl: I’m going to do that.
And don’t go easy on me. Make me work for it.
Because you deserve it. But know this: you will always have a home with me.
And I love you. Every day. Whether I’m with you or not.
And I’m so proud of you. I just need to learn how to be proud of myself too.
Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.
How You Get the Girl:
It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.
Today is an important day for a few reasons. Some good, some depressing as hell. I’ll start with the good first.
Today, I went to my first therapy session.
Though almost every second of it was awful, I got to talk about her.
I allowed myself to remember the good moments.
To relive the night we met and think back on how we fell in love.
I felt validated because speaking it out loud, memorializing our story, proved, beyond a doubt, that it was real.
It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t too soon. And it was beautiful.
Then my therapist reminded me that if I had any shot of getting that back, I had to talk about the hard stuff. So that’s what we’ll do during our next session.
As of today, it’s been two weeks since I blew up our lives.
It kills me to think that it’s gone on this long already.
That it’s been over a week since I saw you.
I miss you, baby girl. I know it seems like I’m not coming for you.
No, I haven’t called. And I won’t. But it’s not because I don’t want to.
It’s not because I don’t love you. It’s because I need to change and I don’t deserve to make that call until I’ve done it.
So please remember that I love you and I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.
Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.
How You Get the Girl:
It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.
Maybe this admission isn’t the most romantic, but not everything in a relationship is, I suppose. The first night I met *Calliope*, she asked me about kids. For those who have been with us since the beginning, you probably remember it was her first attempt at pushing me away.
It backfired tremendously, because it stopped me in my tracks. For so long I thought that part of my life had passed me by. I’m older, as she’ll happily tell you with a teasing smile.
God, I miss your smiles, baby girl.
Because I haven’t been in a long-term relationship in my adult life, I’d never considered that I might not be able to have children. Never worried. In fact, I think most men just assume we can knock a woman up anytime we want.
But my brilliant sister recently pointed out that might not be the case. And since I want that—I want it with you so bad my chest aches, baby girl—I went to the doctor to make sure that’s a possibility for us.
So here’s a friendly reminder in case you have a man in your life who doesn’t have an awesome sister like me: tell your man to make an effort when it comes to family planning. It’s not just on you. If a man loves you, he’ll be thrilled to do this for you. Or not exactly thrilled, but he’ll go.
I’d go anywhere for you, baby girl. Do anything to be with you again.
Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.
How You Get the Girl:
It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.
Today, my therapist asked me to make a list of five things I’m grateful for.
I’ll admit that I was in a lousy mood. I don’t know how to do this anymore.
With each day that passes, it feels less likely that I’ll get her back.
Her smell no longer lingers in the house and I’m beginning to forget the sound of her laugh.
It’s been months. I still have work to do.
I’m not who I need to be for her yet. And today I was drowning in that.
So here are my five good things:
1. That I know what true happiness is because I met her.
2. That my sister is finally back on the East Coast and we celebrated the opening of her practice here in Boston.
3. That my mother is finally settled here as well, and we’ve had quite a few good days.
4. That my team is heading into the finals.
5. I have some of the best friends a guy could ask for, who show up weekly to make sure I still know how to laugh.
My therapist was right. After the exercise, I realized I have a lot to be grateful for. So I suggest making your own lists. It helps even in some of the darkest moments to remember what you do have.
And baby girl, you still have me. I miss you like crazy. And I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.
Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.