I was done.
The fact that he hadn’t responded was proof of his guilt.
I didn’t understand whether he was on some self-destructive binge or whether he truly wanted to be with her. I just knew I wanted nothing to do with him anymore and vowed never to contact him again.***The long flight back to San Francisco was torture. I’d actually considered cancelling my return ticket and staying in New York indefinitely with my sister. The only thing keeping me from doing just that was my job at the youth center. The kids needed me, and I couldn’t risk losing the only thing that was going right in my life.
When I arrived home to my quiet apartment, I was already missing Jade.
I picked up the phone to call her.
“You made it home?”
“Yes. I’m here, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”
“I was pondering everything while you were up in the air. I really think you should call him.”
“No. No way.”
“You didn’t hear it from him that he’s back with her. You’ll feel better if you talk to him even if it’s not easy to hear what he has to say. At least you’ll know. How much worse could the situation get? You’re absolutely miserable.”
“Are you forgetting he didn’t even respond to my text?”
“I know. But I know you. Until you actually speak to him, it’s going to be eating away at you.”
“I can’t call him.”
“Don’t call him. Just go over there. Check the situation out for yourself.”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”***The following day, I was leaving the youth center in the evening. We had a function that ran late. I ended up heading in the opposite direction of my apartment, instead venturing toward Damien’s building.
A sick feeling stuck with me the entire way because I didn’t know what I was going to find. I just knew I needed to see him one last time. My sister was right; it was only going to eat away at me if I didn’t face him.
Jitters followed me up the stairs to my old apartment. To my surprise, the door was cracked open. I peeked inside to find that it was still empty. I had assumed that Damien rented it out ages ago.
Slowly creeping inside the doorway, I said, “Hello?” My voice echoed.
Damien emerged out of my old bedroom. Sweat glistened off his chest. Paint was splattered onto various sections of his body. He looked even more jacked than I remembered. His jeans were slightly opened at the top, and his hair was unruly. His feet were bare. He looked hotter than I’d ever seen him. His heady smell was a mix of cologne and sweat.
I ached for him.
Swallowing, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“I got your message. Your text fucked me up. So, I’m doing a little painting.”
“Well, I meant it. You are a fool.”
“That’s not the message I’m referring to.”
I realized he was talking about the text I’d sent right before I called and discovered Jenna at his apartment—the text where I’d poured my heart out. It must have gone through after all.
Shit.
“I didn’t think it went through. I was hoping it didn’t. It was a mistake.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“How’s Jenna?” I bit out.
His tone was insistent. “Nothing happened between me and Jenna. She’d used her key to enter the apartment when I was in the shower. I didn’t even know you called until later.”
“She answered the phone sounding like she’d just rolled out of your bed. When I asked her what she was doing there, she told me I should know.”
“She’s full of shit, Chelsea.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Because she can be a bitch when she wants to be. She was messing with you, wanted to hurt you. If you call her and ask her right now, she’ll tell you the truth.”
“Why didn’t you respond to my text, then?”
“Because for a short, slightly insane period of time that night, once I figured out what happened, I got a bright idea. I used it as an opportunity. I actually wanted you to believe it. I wanted you to believe it so you would run the other way once and for all. Because at the time, I still truly thought that was what’s best for you.”
“At the time…what changed in a day?”
“Everything.” He walked toward me. “Everything fucking changed.”
“How?”
“I didn’t get your long text until this morning. I’d felt so guilty before that for not responding to your text when you called me a fool. I’ve been so fucked-up since you found out about my condition. I never intended for you to know. Anyway, last night, I had a dream. It was extremely vivid. I dreamt that your plane…” He hesitated. “I dreamt that it crashed. And you died. It felt so real, Chelsea. All I could think was that I had never told you how I truly felt about you. I was filled with a completely unbearable regret. In the dream, I remember thinking that I would have given anything for just one more day with you. I’d wasted so many. When I woke up, I was soaked with sweat. I went on the Internet just to make sure that there weren’t any planes that crashed, because that was how real the dream felt. It totally fucked me up. I’d powered down my phone before bed. When I turned it on, I saw your message. Everything you said was exactly what I experienced in that dream. It was like the two things were connected. And I just saw everything so clearly.”