by R. C. Martin
I frown at her in disagreement and turn over, only to find Geoff mirroring her position—his head propped up on his hand as he smiles at me.
“We’re taking you to church, baby girl. That requires a shower and a change of clothes.”
I plop down on my back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
“I don’t want to go to church.”
“Why not? That’s your thing,” says Harper, nudging me with her knee. “It’ll be good for you.”
Truth be told, I haven’t been to a service in weeks. Sundays with Judah kind of made it difficult for me to get out of bed with any intention of making it to church. Now that I think about it, that probably makes me a completely despicable Christian. Turning my back on God for sex.
Except—it wasn’t like that. Not with Judah.
“Hey,” Harper murmurs, running her fingers through my hair. “Do you remember what you told me about God a few years ago? When you first started to believe?”
I shake my head no.
“I do. You told me there was something about being in His presence—something about being surrounded by His people that made you feel safe. You told me that the more you learned about Him, the cleaner you felt—like nothing that Justin made you feel was stronger than the love you felt from God. You told me that when you went to church, you always walked away feeling a little lighter—as if your burdens were not yours to carry, but His.
“Honey, I think you need that right now. I think you need to feel that sort of supernatural peace that only God has ever been able to give you. It’s your thing, babe. I’ve seen it bring you through some dark times, and this is a dark time. Don’t completely abandon who you are and what you believe just because things didn’t work out with Jude.”
I try so hard not to break down, but she’s right. In so many ways, she’s right, and it hurts so much to admit it. I do need to feel that sense of complete comfort I’ve only ever found in one place. I need to remember who I am and what I believe—I need to remember that I am strong, and that God’s love can bring me through anything. His grace covers me and protects me, no matter what; and my absence from my relationship with Him won’t keep Him from me now.
Except, I don’t want healing from this pain. I don’t want to let go of Jude. I don’t want to move on. I’m not ready to let go. I love him too much.
I love him too much.
“Oh, Teddy,” Harper coos, folding me in her arms.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing until my face is buried in her neck, the sound of my cry muffled in her embrace.
“You’re going to get through this, babe. One day at a time, you’re going to make it through. We’ll start with today. Get up, sweet girl. Clean yourself off. We’re getting you to that church if it’s the only thing we do all day.”
By Saturday morning, my house was stripped of anything that reminded me of Teddy. Her soap in my shower. Her toothbrush on my sink. The useless scraps of clothing left behind from the last time I fucked her. I cleaned the coffee mug she’d left in the sink, I’d stripped the bed of its sheets, and I took the Land Rover to have it detailed—ridding the leather of the smell of her sweet cunt.
I wanted her gone. Needed her gone. It was the only way I knew how to purge my chest of the ache she left when she stepped out of my car Thanksgiving night.
Now, as I stand in the space between my bathroom and my closet, wrapped in just a towel, I’m stopped dead in my tracks. The photograph she took on our hike in Beaver Creek is still hanging on my wall. A part of me—the angriest part of me—imagines what it would be like to put my fist through the glass before I take the frame from the wall and chuck it across the room. But I will not indulge the beast in me, the animal that she makes me.
The animal that she made me.
I shake my head at myself, heading toward my closet. Monday morning beckons and I have neither the time, nor the desire, to think on the past. Teddy made her choice. While it is cloaked in love, it is not me she wants. She wants a fantasy. She wants forever—and I do not believe in such a thing.
I dress quickly, knowing that I am already behind schedule. It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper shave—I neglected to leave enough time to do so. Now, as I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie, I can barely look at myself. I don’t feel like the man in my reflection. I don’t recognize him. I might even go so far as to say that I don’t like him, either. He’s different. Weaker.
“Fuck,” I mutter, abandoning any further effort with my tie as I head to the kitchen. I start to prepare myself a coffee, out of habit more than anything else, and realize that I don’t have a taste for it. It reminds me of Teddy, which makes me feel—“Fuck.”
I’m making my way down the stairs when Marta emerges through my front door. I almost forgot that she would be here this morning. My lack of focus today is just as appalling as it is unacceptable. I have way too much shit to deal with to act like some heartbroken fool. My relationship with Teddy is over. I knew the day would come, and now it’s time to move on. My routine as a man with no attachments should fit like an old glove. It hasn’t been so long that I’ve forgotten who I am.
“Good morning, Mr. Jude,” Marta greets with her usual smile.
“Good morning, Marta.” I offer her no more than a curt nod as I pass her, but she stops me before I can get too far.
“No Miss Teddy today? I promised to—”
“Teddy will no longer be a guest here,” I mutter, barely glancing back at her over my shoulder. “I’m late. I have to be going.”
“But—I…what happened?”
“It doesn’t matter, Marta.”
“I…” she sighs. “Okay, Mr. Jude.”
Her crestfallen tone is not lost on me, but I shake it off. Who I share my bed with is none of her goddamn business, anyway.
I arrive at the office a few minutes later than usual, but it remains quiet and dark—just the way I prefer to start my mornings. I don’t bother turning on any lights as I make my way to my office, letting the glow of the emergency light guide me. I’m just sitting down at my desk when my mobile starts to ring. I know who it is before I even pull it out of my pocket. There are very few people who would even think of calling me before eight a.m., and only one who has felt the need to call repeatedly since Friday. This time, I choose not to ignore him.
“Benjamin,” I answer, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Oh. Good. You’re feeling chatty this morning.”
“You’re not a man with an abundant amount of free time, and neither am I. I presume you’ll cut to the chase.”
“Pleasant, aren’t we?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“No! Jude—wait. Come on. Of course you know why I’m calling.” When I say nothing in reply, he sighs before he continues. “Harper says Teddy is a fucking mess.”
In an instant, my mind is filled with the memory of her propped up next to me—naked—crying—begging for me to tell her that I love her.
“Judah—say something,” Benjamin demands. “What’s going on?”
“What would you have me say, huh? Sounds to me as though you have the whole story.”
“Bullshit. I don’t have the whole story. I don’t know why your dumb ass let her leave.”
I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m tired of this conversation already.
“It was never going to last forever, anyway,” I mutter.
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. So, what, you just decide to throw in the towel without a fight? Jude—what you and Teddy have is more than just some bullshit fling. You care about each other. You care about her. I’ve seen it with my own eyes—you won’t fool me into thinking otherwise.”
“Had. What Teddy and I had was a relationship that is now over.”
“You’re just going to walk away? Just like that? Go back to being the old Jude, fucking any pussy with a pulse?”
The thought of burying my dick in anyone other than my shy girl
turns me off instantly, but I ignore the feeling. I then scrape my hand down my face—my fingers running over my jaw, smooth and clean shaven. I bite back a curse, irritated that the details that define me have somehow been altered over the course of the last few months. I’m no longer confident that the old Jude is a façade I could even imitate.
“Jude?”
“Where I choose to sink my dick is no one’s business but my own. Teddy wanted more than I could give. She made her choice. She left. Now she must live with the consequences, like an adult.”
“Right. Because you’re being really mature about all of this.”
“Ben—”
“I know you’re in love with her. God—you’re the most arrogant, stubborn asshole I’ve ever met in my entire life! I love you, brother—I do, but you’re an idiot, living with your eyes wide shut. You think you have it all figured out, that you know the nature of all mankind, and that love is for fools. Well, welcome to the club, brother. You’re a fucking fool. I hope you wake up and see the truth before it’s too late.”
Before I can say another word, he hangs up on me. I scowl in frustration, staring down at the device, wondering where he got the damn nerve. I think about calling him back to give him an earful, and then decide it’s not worth it. He’d only give me another hopeless romantic speech about love, or some bullshit, and I don’t want to hear it.
I busy myself with work, hardly aware as the office begins to buzz with the activity of Monday morning. It isn’t until Aunt Eddalyn knocks on my door, informing me that we’re just about to get started with our weekly meeting, that I manage to shift my focus. She eyes me curiously before offering me her usual kind smile, and I follow her into the conference room.
With Eddalyn being out of the country for the last week, I’m required to take the lead. We discuss what’s coming down the pipeline and then I look to the rest of the team to provide updates on whatever projects they are currently working on. My focus is shit, and my thoughts keep wandering back to the conversation I had with Benjamin earlier. I’m grateful when our meeting is adjourned, giving me the excuse to close myself in my office for a few hours. However, I’m only alone for a few minutes before there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I grumble.
Brittany peeks here head in, smiling brightly, and I wonder if perhaps this is an opportunity; if perhaps our paths were destined to cross here and now; if perhaps fucking her, as I know she’s always wanted, is suddenly an option worth seriously entertaining.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks hesitantly.
“Yes. Shut the door. Have a seat.”
She does as I ask, occupying the chair in front of my desk, crossing her legs. Her dress hikes up her thigh, but her dark tights prevent me from being able to truly appreciate what she has to offer. My eyes then travel up, perusing her full breasts before catching sight of her lips. She’s speaking, but I only make out every other word. I’m distracted by the fact that she’s not nearly as distracting as she once was. My dick has absolutely no interest, making my earlier thoughts a proven fact.
I have no desire to bury my dick in anyone other than Teddy.
That shit won’t fly.
I need a drink.
“So, anyway—I guess I was just wondering if you could take a look at my design? Help me try to figure out where I’m stuck?”
“Sure, fine,” I mutter, feeling bored.
“Great, thanks.” She stands, as if to leave, and I’m relieved. But just as she reaches for the door handle, she stops, turning back to look at me. “Are you okay? You seem…off.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re distracted. Tense. Plus, you shaved,” she says, flirtatiously narrowing her eyes at me. “I guess what I’m really wondering is—did you and Teddy break up?”
I glare at her, hoping she’ll catch a fucking clue and leave.
We are not friends. Teddy is not her concern, and the bitch has another thing coming if she thinks I am.
“I never pegged you as the kind of guy who would settle down, you know. If you want to go out for a drink later—I’m free.”
“Get out, Brittany,” I mumble, completely and utterly disgusted.
She has the audacity to smirk at me before she nods and exits my office.
I wonder how I ever found her remotely fuckable.
“Teddy? Teddy…” I jump when I feel Andrew’s hand on my shoulder, spinning around to face him. He smiles at me compassionately, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. “Sorry to have startled you. We’re getting ready to head out. Why don’t you save the rest of the filing for Monday?”
“Oh,” I murmur, looking down at the slips of paper I hold in my hand. “I only have a couple left. Two more minutes?”
“Sure.”
With a sigh, I turn back around to continue my task. Admittedly, I should be done by now. I’m not myself these days. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything, unless I have a camera in my hand. Unfortunately, that doesn’t do me much good while I’m at the gallery. I’m grateful for the patience of Andy and Geoff. I’m doing my best—but I just can’t stop thinking about him…
“Hey.”
I jump with a gasp, slamming the drawer closed before spinning around once more. Andy is standing right where I left him, his smile now expressing more concern than anything else.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were still here.”
“What are you doing after work? How about you come out for a drink with us? Or, if you want, we can go back to my place. Carrie would love to see you.”
I force a smile, raking my fingers through my hair as I try and think of the politest way to say no. I know that he’s just trying to be supportive, they all are, but I’m not in the mood for company.
“I think I’m just going to go home. Maybe watch a movie or something.”
“We have movies,” he counters with a cheesy grin.
“How about Sunday? After I get home from church?”
I know, even as I say the words, that it’s entirely probable that I’ll back out before Sunday comes—but it’s a lot easier to tell the man no when he’s not standing in front of me, being the best boss in the world.
“Okay. Sunday.”
I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t believe the words, either.
“We’re just a phone call away, you know?”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I’m fine, really. Or, you know—getting there. I think I read somewhere that since we were together for four months, I should stop crying in about four weeks or something. I’m halfway there.”
He scowls at me skeptically offering me his elbow before he begins escorting me out of the supply room.
“You do know that’s bullshit, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “But a girl can hope, right?”
“So, what’s the verdict? Drinks?” asks Geoff, rubbing his hands together as we make our way to the reception desk.
“Not tonight. I’m headed home.”
“Need company?”
I manage a half hearted laugh as I let go of Andrew to slip into my coat and grab my purse. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
“Maybe I’d stop worrying if you stopped coming into work with bags under your eyes,” says Geoffrey, taking hold of my chin.
I try avoiding his stare, but he doesn’t let me go. I roll my eyes before meeting his pretty blues.
“I have bad dreams,” I lie, willing myself not to cry.
They’re not bad dreams. I know bad dreams, and these are the opposite of nightmares. Every night, in my sleep, I’m with Judah. It sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help it. When I drift off, we’re in Beaver Creek, telling each other secrets in the bathtub; or we’re wandering around a museum, our fingers laced together as he holds onto me as tightly as I hold onto him; or we’re at his house, making love on a snow day. I wake up when he kisses me—or when he brings me to orgasm. Those ones are the worst. There
’s no hope of sleep after that.
Geoffrey pulls me from my thoughts as he smacks a kiss against my lips and then drapes his arm around my shoulders. “I’m coming over. It’s settled.”
“Geoff—no,” I whine. “It’s okay. Go home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
Thankfully, I get no further argument from either cousin as we make our way out into the cold. When I reach my car, I sink into my driver’s seat, ready to head home and change into something warm and comfortable. I turn the key to start the ignition, but it won’t turn over. I try a second time—and still nothing. That’s all it takes for me to burst into tears. Lately, it doesn’t take much.
I haven’t heard a word from Judah in sixteen days. Sometimes, his silence is deafening. It’s as if he’s proclaiming to the world just how easy it was to let me walk away. It breaks my heart over and over again just thinking about it. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d wonder if our relationship happened at all. Since the moment we met, he’s made himself known. Even when we weren’t physically in the same space, I was aware of him. Between the flowers, the text messages, and the phone calls, he was always there. Now—now he’s like a figment of my imagination.
I miss him so fucking much.
I cry for a couple minutes, and then I realize that if I don’t try and find someway home, my tears will freeze to my face and I’ll be even more miserable than I already am. I try starting my car twice more, and finally it fires up. I let it run for a few minutes and then make my way home. When I arrive, I’m surprised to find Harper pacing back and forth in front of my front door.
“Harp? What are you doing here?”
“Thank fuck, you’re home!”
I stare at her, really confused, wondering why she looks so crazed.
“Well? Are we going inside or not?”
“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you call? If you’re checking up on me—”
“I think I did something stupid,” she blurts out.
I offer her a nod, understanding that inside is probably the best place to get to the bottom of her cryptic reply, and then unlock my door. I barely have a chance to set my purse down before she’s walking in circles around me, talking a mile a minute.
