“I will,” I assure her, as I pack up the file and my laptop before I walk out of my office. I’m in a daze as I make my way home. My head keeps spinning around and around as I shut the car door with my hip before walking up the stairs to the front door, opening it by pressing in the code. I kick off my shoes as soon as I step in, walking to the kitchen and putting down my bags on the island.
My whole body aches, and I have to wonder if maybe I’m coming down with something. Walking over to the freezer, I take out one of my great-grandmother’s chicken potpies she made me the last time I was with her. I put it on a baking pan before turning on the oven and placing it inside. I set the timer for forty-five minutes before I make my way upstairs to my bedroom. The bed is made since the cleaning lady was here today. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of my shower, opening the glass door, and turning on the hot water.
Once I’m undressed and tie my hair on top of my head, I step into the hot water. My head is still going around and around as I see his face. Always his fucking beautiful face. “This would be a lot easier if there was closure when we broke up,” I tell myself as I turn off the water and step out, grabbing the plush white towel, wrapping it around myself. “No, it wouldn’t,” I answer myself as I put on a pair of cream, cashmere loose pants with a matching oversized, long-sleeved, V-neck sweater before making my way back downstairs. The smell of the potpie is filling the house. I walk over and grab the bottle of white wine from the fridge before opening the cupboard and taking down a crystal wineglass. Pouring wine to fill the glass halfway, I take a sip as I walk over to my bag, grabbing my laptop and notes from today.
Sitting on the stool, I open the folder and look down, seeing his name and then Helena’s. I never thought this would be my reality. I mean, after we broke up, I had no idea what he was up to. He literally vanished from my life after a fight. My head wanders back to that fateful night.
The phone rang and I knew he just got off the ice. They were at an away game. “Hello,” I answered him.
“Hey, baby,” he said softly, and I couldn’t help but smile when his voice would go soft like that. “Whatcha doing?”
“I was waiting for you to call,” I told him. “That was a good win.”
“It was the last minute of the game,” he said, and I could have seen the smirk on his face.
“Are you still okay to go out?” I asked him of the plans we made when I got a call from the top event agency in Chicago, asking me to come in and meet them.
“You bet your ass,” he said, and I got up. “Meet me at my place in about two hours. Gotta go, love you, baby.”
“Love you, too,” I said and hung up the phone. I spent an hour getting ready and headed over to his place. I sat on his stoop and waited for him. When he was ten minutes late, I texted him to see if he was okay, but got nothing. All it said was delivered. An hour later, I started to panic and called him, only for it to go straight to voice mail. I was pacing his porch back and forth, my phone in my hand as I watched the minutes tick by. I waited to see if the gray bubble would pop up, but nothing. I feared the worst when headlights pulled into his driveway. Not his truck but his friend Jake’s. I walked down the steps, my heart beating in my chest, the fear had taken over my body. The car door opened, and he took one step out and then fell. I rushed to him but stopped when I heard him laughing. Jake rushed around the truck to pick him up. “Is he?”
The fear left my body now that I knew he was okay and in its place was anger. “Wow.”
“Hey there, baby,” he slurred his words, and I just shook my head. “What is your problem?” He put his hands on his hips and, at that moment, it was the wrong thing to say.
“What’s my problem?” I hissed out. “I just spent the last two hours wondering if you were hurt. I called you.”
“Phone died,” Jake said, but I took one look at him, and he shut up.
“It’s not a big deal,” Matthew huffed.
“I’m leaving,” I said, and I walked past him, but he followed me.
“You’re such a buzzkill,” he said. His words hit me right in the heart. “I had a couple of drinks with the boys.” He stopped when I turned around. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“We had plans, Matthew,” I reminded him, trying to get him to see my side.
“Plans change.” He threw his hands up. “Whatever.”
“Call me tomorrow,” I said to him.