Playing It Safe(82)

“Are you kidding me, Julia?” Alex rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes before looking at me again. “You just told me you love me, and now you’re going to turn around and tell me to get lost?”

“You don’t get it, Alex,” I say. “I can’t trust you. You can explain until you’re blue in the face. But the fact remains that I saw you with her. I heard her, and I know other things that have made me see the light and call this for what it was—a mistake.”

“What other things?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck if it doesn’t,” he says.

“I’m sure you won’t be lonely too long,” I say to him quietly. “Marisa is just a phone call away, isn’t she?”

“Can you please stop talking about her?”

“I bet she looks just like Katerina.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion as I keep on riding the runaway train that is bitchy Julia. “When you finally do f*ck her, I bet it will be like f*cking your dead fiancée. So it’s kind of a win-win situation for the both of you.”

As soon as the words are spoken, I immediately regret them. In my mind, I’m already trying to formulate excuses for myself, but I know without a doubt that there aren’t any. I willingly crossed the line, and there is no going back.

His face is stoic and his voice is calm when he says, “You mean like it was a win-win situation for me when I couldn’t f*ck Sabrina but f*cked you instead?”

Pow! Straight to the heart and the gut and the kisser.

But I deserve it and then some.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, his voice matching the expression of shock on his face. “Why the f*ck are you doing this?”

The tears start to flow, and he follows one stream down my cheek until it falls to the floor. He takes a few steps back and digs through his pockets for his keys. Once in his hand, he stares at me in quiet disbelief for a few seconds before heading toward the door.

“I came over here after you left me at the restaurant because I wanted to explain what happened. But I also came over here to tell you that I love you and that I would never do anything to hurt you again.” My stomach bottoms out to hear him say this to me, but he’s not done yet. “I hope you’re happy with what just happened here, Julia. Because you f*cking blew it for yourself.”

He slams the door behind him, and I hear his car pull out of my driveway shortly thereafter.

It’s then that I slide down the wall and collapse into a heap of tears and choking sobs. I tell myself I deserve it, that I did it all to myself, but it doesn’t ease the pain whatsoever. And adding to the pain is the knowledge that he loves me, and he’s right … I so blew it.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Note to self: you are no longer in college and too old to be sleeping on a hardwood floor all night.

My eyes are burning as the first flicker of light filters through my windows and hits my face like a spotlight. I wake up in the same exact spot on the floor from last night, and as much as my body is in pain from being in this position, I can’t quite motivate myself to get up. I’m sure my eyes are all kinds of puffy and red from the off-and-on crying I did after Alex left last night.

God, what the hell did I do?

After he left, I went over and over everything in my head, trying to figure out what would possess me to say those things. Every time I came up with the same answer: self-preservation. I realize it’s a cop-out—a huge one at that—but it’s the only thing I have.

I have spent most of my adult life preventing men from breaking my heart by keeping them at arm’s length. Whether it’s by trying to find the littlest of things that would drive any sane person crazy or simply by hanging on to a past heartache and reminding myself of that whenever someone got too close. The latter is the category Alex falls into, and through no fault of his own because he never knew that he was going up against so much baggage. And you’re right, it isn’t fair. I wasn’t fair to him, to myself … to us.


So even as I spoke those awful and hurtful words to him last night, I knew in my heart of hearts that I shouldn’t be saying them. But the part of me that wants to keep my heart safe from any potential pain reared her ugly head and said, “Fuck it, better now than later when he chews you up and spits you out.”

Trust me, I am fully aware how that logic is the stupidest and most idiotic thing I could imagine in my screwed-up head, but it’s hard breaking yourself of a habit that you’ve been implementing for years.

Don’t you think I want to?

I do. I sooo do.

I’m sick and tired of being so bitter, of pushing away my one shot at a happy ending that’s full of unicorns with rainbows flying out of their asses. I want that for myself just as much as the next person. But like a carousel ride, I spin round and round, not knowing where the hell I’m supposed to start fixing this because I undoubtedly end up right at the very beginning of the ride—alone and mounting a mechanical machine.

I will admit to wanting to pick up my phone a bunch of times last night and call or text Alex. Hell, I even considered jumping into my car and heading over to his house to beg for forgiveness, but pride kept me planted on this floor in a writhing ball of tears and stubbornness.

Taking a deep breath through my lungs, I blow it out on a long sigh and roll onto my back to stare up at the ceiling, counting all the imperfections as if they were sheep. My eyes grow heavy again, and I succumb to sleep, not caring at all that I’m still on the goddamn floor.