Chapter 32
“Love in the Dark” - Adele
Saylor
Paula overwatered my plants. It’s the first thing I notice after stepping inside.
Well, that and the musty smell of a room that’s been closed up for way too long.
Before I left, I turned the thermostat as low as I could without freezing my pipes, and the plants haven’t loved that either.
Some of them look like they’re barely holding on.
I drop the bag from my shoulder, and it hits the floor with a thud.
The sound vibrates through my feet, making me feel something for the first time since I left the tour.
Straddling one of the bar stools, I sigh and place my face against the cool countertop.
I’m happy to be home—ecstatic, even. So then why don’t I feel better?
Probably because the stack of mail Paula left on the counter is nothing but bills.
I sift through it, and my attention snags on a large manila envelope on the bottom.
After pulling it out, I recognize my own handwriting.
This is the divorce paperwork, “Insufficient Postage” stamped front and center.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I put five stamps on this thing, and that still wasn’t enough?
I blew up Rhett’s career and my own heart over a lack of postage?
This is taking the miscommunication trope to a whole new level.
At least it revealed Rhett’s true colors before I could fall any harder, if that’s even possible.
I was right about the rest of the mail being bills.
My rent is due, and I open my banking app to send the payment.
When my balance appears on the screen, my heart freezes over.
Forty-seven dollars and a few odd cents.
Forty-seven measly dollars to my name. That’s not even enough to cover my electric bill, which is also due, let alone my rent.
Thinking it might just be a glitch, I refresh the page. It reloads, but my balance remains the same. Did Nate somehow get ahold of this account, too? I scroll through the activity, but there’s been none since I left five weeks ago. That can only mean one thing.
Rhett never paid me.
As I close the app, I notice that I have several unread text messages.
They must have come in during the flight, all of them from Rhett.
Just seeing his name on my screen brings a fresh flood of tears to my eyes.
It feels like someone has carved my heart out with a sword, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind. I shouldn’t, but I read all of them.
Why did you leave without saying goodbye?
I’m sorry for the way I acted. Forgive me?
Saylor
Please
I miss you
I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. Can you please call me?
Baby
The last one hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. I don’t need to be next to him to hear the tone of his voice—the low, sultry notes of it as he brushes my hair away from my face.
Pressing my thumb and forefinger into my eye sockets until the tears disappear, I take several steadying breaths.
I cannot worry about Rhett right now. Obviously, I’m not going to call him or even reply.
What happened was inevitable. Sooner or later, we were both going to have to face the fact that whatever was going on between us could only ever be short-lived.
I drop my phone, and it clatters onto the counter. It’s time to think about survival. I don’t have anything in the flat that’s edible, and forty-seven dollars will barely stock the fridge. I’ll be lucky to still have a roof over my head and electricity by the end of the week.
Rhett must have forgotten to send my money, and after everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine he still plans to. It’s not like I held up my side of the bargain. Nor am I about to call him up and ask where it is. I’d rather sleep in a cardboard box.
As much as I’d prefer to fall into bed for the next ten hours, I need to earn some money, and fast. I change out of my leggings and into jeans.
Thanks to the flight, my hair looks like the aftermath of a tropical storm, but I don’t have time to mess with it.
I cram my bowler hat on my head and walk to the thrift shop.
Justine is sympathetic to my plight, but the schedule’s already full. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week, girl. I don’t have any open shifts.”
I grab onto my heart before it can sink down to my toes. “That’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” I smile to let her know I’m not upset, but my tears are ready to brim over. Again. Fortunately, they wait to do so until I’m outside the store.
It starts drizzling as I’m walking home, and for once, I’m relieved.
At least now my tears aren’t recognizable—they just look like rain.
Water drips onto the floor of my flat when I step inside, and I wish for the millionth time that I had a dog to welcome me home.
Someone who would be genuinely excited to see me, regardless of how badly I’d messed up in the past. But that would hardly be fair to him or her.
I can’t even take care of myself—how could I possibly provide for another being?
I sink onto the mat inside the door so I don’t track in more water. Then I put my head into my hands and let the tears fall.
How did I end up here? Five years ago, I was doing better than ever. Uni was great, I had Timie, I was volunteering at Restore Hope in the evenings and on the weekends. I may not have known what I was going to do with my life, but anything felt possible.
Little did I know I’d fall in love twice, get divorced, have my heart smashed to smithereens, and face homelessness within a few short years.
My sweatshirt sleeves are growing soaked, but I don’t care.
I cry for myself, I cry for Rhett, I cry for what we could have been.
I even cry for Nate, for all the places we went wrong.
Isn’t it funny how beautiful things can break just as easily fracture by fracture as they can from a huge crash to the floor?
I miss the tour. The thought surprises me.
I thought I would be glad to be home—and I am—but I didn’t expect it to feel so lonely.
I miss the guys. I miss Leo and trying to make him smile.
I miss having someone looking out for me.
I miss not having to worry about how much things cost. I miss the fun and the energy that always coursed through the bus and backstage.
But mostly, I just miss Rhett.
The thought sends another rush of tears down my cheeks. God, I miss him. He feels like a phantom limb. You know it’s missing, but you still feel it attached to you. Will this feeling ever go away, or am I doomed to live like this for the rest of my life?
I force myself to get up and move to my suitcase, which is still dumped on the floor. I heft it onto the bed, then make myself go through the motions of unpacking. Sleeping sounds much more appealing, but it’s time to be mature and handle my shit.
Turning on the Bluetooth speaker on my nightstand, I start Spotify. I just need to focus on something else for a while. Eventually, I’ll forget about Rhett and the past five weeks.
There’s an email from Nate in my inbox asking what the fuck is going on.
I ignore it and toss my phone aside. That shit can wait.
I don’t have the mental capacity to handle his drama or interrogation right now.
His act for the camera was nothing more than that—an act.
What I told Rhett is true. There’s no love lost between me and Nate. Not anymore.
I tug a flannel shirt from the bag and hold it to my nose. It still carries a faint hint of Rhett’s cologne, because the last time I wore it, he wrapped his arms around me and held me close for what seemed like hours. I could survive on this scent alone for the rest of my life.
Realizing what I’m doing, I toss the shirt into the laundry hamper. It gets caught on the side and hangs there, taunting me, reminding me that everything I touch ends up looking like crap. I can’t even get a bloody shirt in the basket.
Then it happens.
At first I don’t register it, but as soon as his voice starts crooning at me through my speaker, my heart starts oozing blood all over the place, my body aware before my brain of what I’m hearing.
I can’t stop it, the pain. It’s a living entity much stronger than I am, taking over until I can’t breathe anymore.
I sink to my knees on the floor, clutching my middle as Rhett sings. Fumbling for my phone on the bed, I try to keep the tears at bay, but they don’t listen. Will I ever stop crying over this man?
When my fingers finally close around my device, I can’t bring myself to end the song.
I know the lyrics by heart, but I don’t sing along, just let his voice wash over me as he belts out “One More Night.” What I wouldn’t give for one more night with him the way we were before.
One more day before everything went to shit and I had to walk away from the only man I think I’ve ever truly loved.
What we had was different from what Nate and I had. I thought I loved Nate, but it never felt like this. I never lived to see him walk through the door, never felt safe with him the way I did with Rhett.
Rhett unlocked something deep inside me that Nate never stood a chance of reaching.
Everything was surface level with Nate. We were physically attracted to each other, sure, but it never went deeper than that.
We didn’t talk about our dreams or all the ways we’d been hurt in the past. He never had a desire to know me in a way that others couldn’t.
And whenever I showed him a part of myself that I’d hidden from others, he didn’t like what he saw.