23. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Lucy
I stare at my phone while my computer boots up as I sit in my office chair at work.
Me: I’m glad you’re okay! And all is well. Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it. Did your field work go well?
It’s been opened. Read. I wonder if he even realizes he has his read receipts on?
He never responded, and while I wanted to cry over it to release the whirlwind of negative emotions consuming me throughout the night, I couldn’t bring myself to shed a single tear. Instead, I screamed in the shower. I screamed at God for allowing Friday night to happen. I screamed at myself for being so blindly stupid that I let Stone’s flattering words impact me.
He never said he loved me back.
That was the big red stop sign that should have ended everything .
But instead, I gaslit myself into believing that ‘you frustrate me’ phrase meant the same thing.
It obviously didn’t.
If I was the heroine of a rom-com right now, he would be bursting into this office with flowers and chocolates, telling me he’s sorry for running away after Friday night.
But as time ticks by and my message remains unanswered, I’m positive I’ve been mistakenly placed in a women’s fiction novel without an HEA.
A message pops up on my phone, and my heartbeat quickens, but my shoulders slump when I realize it’s just my sister. She’s asking me if I’m bringing Stone to the wedding and coronation in a couple of months, and right now, I have no idea.
So I text back saying that I don’t know. We will see how things work out.
The desire to text Stone torments me. To try and call him. To call a news media site and tell them to report I’m going to jump off the water tower to see if that will get him to message me back. I’m a lunatic, but this feeling to get his attention, to make him see me, is a force to be reckoned with and a second by second fight not to act upon it.
My phone rings, and it’s Grandma Netty calling.
Guess I’m popular with everyone this morning except for my boyfriend who ran away from me under the excuse of a family emergency. Yeah, I know that was a lie. I text with his sister, after all.
So is he really even my boyfriend now ?
I would think so after the way he claimed my body the other night.
Men are different, though. They can have sex with a woman, and it does not mean a thing.
I know that.
Logically.
Emotionally, I want to die.
“Hello,” I say with as much of a mellow tone as I can manage.
“Lucy girl, it’s Grandma Netty. What are your dinner plans?”
I chuckle at her introduction despite my sour mood. She forgets caller ID is a thing now, and just hearing her voice brings a small light into the cave of darkness. “I was just going to heat up leftovers at the apartment and write. Why?” It’s a lie. I was most likely going to obsessively watch my phone and attempt to distract myself with writing all the while starving myself because I’m way too anxious to eat.
“Take yourself a break and come have dinner with me, will ya? I’m lonely and I miss my grandgirl.”
Beats anxiously sulking around my apartment. I can go anxiously pretend that I’m not actually anxious and shovel down a good meal at Grandma’s.
“Of course. Thanks for the invite. What time should I be over?”
She gives me the details and then we click off the phone. The rest of the work day passes torturously slow. I check my phone every few seconds, so much so that it’s become habitual.
He never texts.
And I pray it’s because he’s dead. Because if he’s not…
He’ll wish he was when I’m through with him .
If I’ve learned one thing in the past—through being used by men for their sexual gratification—it’s that I won’t let the same mistake happen twice with the same man. Stone doesn’t get to touch me anymore if he can’t commit to me. If he can’t tell me he loves me.
No matter how desperately I crave his hands all over me…
Thank goodness he isn’t at work today to see what a mess I am.
With a newfound determination, I set to work applying the finishing touches to the Halloween Bash happening next week, checking the list of volunteers, and doing some other administration work.
Mind. Numbing. Business.
Which is disastrous because my newfound determination wavers as quickly as it settled in with all of the excessive thinking time.
What if he’s cheating on me right now?
Then you walk away.
What if he tells me he doesn’t love me like I love him?
Then you walk away.
What if he continuously ghosts me?
Then you walk away.
What if…
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lucy! Walk away and write a freaking book about it to get all your pain out, okay?!
Why can’t I be like Taylor Swift and infuse all my heartbreak into songs instead of crafting full-length novels? My poetry is my escape from pain, but I can’t sing, and I don’t think my audience would like my anguished poems.
My readers want happy. They want perfect communication. They want clean characters. They want unrealistic, eternal joy …
“Gah!” I scream aloud as I throw the pen I was holding at the door, which I didn’t realize was opening until it was too late.
The pen hits Stone in the forehead, and for one derisory second, my lips twitch as I bask in the teensy karma-filled moment gifted to me.
But then I control my expression because I’m at work and he’s technically my boss.
And he has a bouquet of…
Ferrero Rochers?
“Well, Lucy May. I guess I deserved that one.” He rubs his forehead and closes the door to my office. He picks up the pen and walks over to my desk, setting it down in front of me alongside the wrapped chocolates on fake flower stems. His arm is fully in my line of vision, and I get a wild hair to bite it. Whether it’s to deliver pain or pleasure, I don’t yet know.
“Are you here to talk to me as my boss, or…” I don’t say the word boyfriend, because regardless of my twisted thinking on Friday night and the following morning, I don’t know where we stand. He never said he loved me…
But he brought my favorite chocolates…
He sighs and leans his backside against my desk. I don’t bother to spin my chair to address him, but I can smell his cologne—an intoxicating blend of cedarwood, sage, and cocoa. He wears Bad Boy by Carolina Herrera. I snooped through his bathroom while I was over at his house and sprayed my shirt with it before I left.
How fitting that he chose that brand.
“I’m sorry I haven’t responded. No, I won’t use the excuse I was busy. I could have texted back, but I—” He pauses, and I side-eye him. He has his head hung and hands folded. “I’m processing everything. I’m sorry I’m a slow processor, but Lucy, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve had so much fun with you over the past four months, and I like the friendship we’ve built. I care about you, and I respect you. I shouldn’t have let my desires get the best of me on my birthday after you told me you felt guilty over us. After you said you loved me. You deserve so much better than that.”
My mind reels over his words, glitching over his honesty. I fully expected some lame excuse such as being too busy or saying his phone died.
“Uh, I—” I shake my head and finally turn to meet him, my words breathy. “It’s okay. Thank you for your honesty.” But if he says he’s too good for you, you’re supposed to believe him…
He looks down at me, and by the puffiness of his cheeks and the red tinting the whites of his eyes, I swear he’s been crying.
I stand, and against my better judgment, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him tight. If this is the last time I’m going to get to hug him, I’m making it count.
One hand plays with his hair while my other slides down his chest. I risk a glance at him, and those blue-gray storm clouds have once again formed in his eyes.
My body tingles, and it’s as if I’ve forgotten all of my anxieties and worries. He’s here. In my arms. Looking at me as if he wants me. And he brought me apology chocolates…
“It’s okay, Quartz.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips. It’s just a small peck, but I aim to reassure him that I’m fine.
Even if I know deep down that I’m not.
I can fake it ‘til I make it .
He finally slides his arms around my waist and tugs me closer to him.
“I understand commitment is hard for you. I understand you may not be ready. But can I ask you, once again, to try?” Please, please don’t leave me alone…
His Adam's apple bobbles as he swallows. I can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He releases his hold and moves his hands to grip my hips. “I don’t know, Lucy. I’m really trying to work it all out in my head. I’m trying to overcome my fear. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for me, but it is. My head feels like a hurricane and typhoon are clashing together.”
I nod, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting practical ways he could work on those issues. This is clearly something he needs to work through himself, even if every moment that passes rips me to shreds, taking the stitches he had once sewn into me out one by one.
Hello, Numb String. Welcome back, Old Friend. Time to double-down.
“Can we continue seeing each other through the Halloween Bash and then reconvene? Is that enough time for you to process? We can press pause on this conversation until then.”
Stone sighs, closes his eyes, but he nods all the same before kissing my forehead. “What are you doing tonight? Want to come over and watch a movie?”
I think of Grandma Netty. I should have dinner with her, but my heart yearns for Stone. Maybe if I can just spend a little more time with him, it will convince him that I’m a woman worth settling down with. Am I, though? “I’d love to.”
He smiles, plants a chaste kiss on my lips, then leaves.
My thoughts range from guilt over canceling with my grandma, excitement over watching a movie with Stone, anger at myself for even suggesting that we continue on until the Halloween Bash, and revulsion over clinging to Stone Harper like he’s the broken plank Rose held onto for dear life, despite all my big talk that I won’t ever let another man use me or pull me around.
Because if I lose him for good, what’s the point of even existing anymore? I might as well go down into the icy water like Jack.
I’m twenty-six.
Unmarried.
He’s my only prospect in sight.
He’s the only prospect I want.
I love him.
Like I’ve never loved before…