Chloe has left me. Again.
Chapter 13
I panic. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of—or something I even want to admit to myself. But the truth is I absolutely panic. For long seconds, I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but stand in the middle of this empty fucking hotel suite and try not to lose it completely.
She left me. She left me. She left me.
After marrying me. After promising this was forever. After swearing that we were in this together. She left me. After four fucking days.
I can’t believe it. No, I can believe it, obviously, because here I am in an empty hotel room that still smells of my wife.
My wife.
It’s those two words that snap me out of the panic and the shock that threaten to smother me with every breath I try to take. Chloe is my wife now and if she thinks we’re going to start this whole walking out—this whole running away thing—all over again, she better get over it real quick. While I’m willing to do almost anything for her, to give her pretty much anything and everything she wants, I won’t give her this. I take my marriage vows very seriously and I am absolutely done with her running away instead of sticking around for the fight. Absolutely done with her taking the easy way out while I’m left to pick up the fucking pieces.
It takes me less than five minutes to gather up the few things I have lying around the suite. Another five to make the call that will have my plane fueled and ready. And another five to check out of the suite and text a quick explanation to Sebastian about why I’m skipping out on the dinner plans he’d made for the four of us later.
And then I’m in the limo, Geoffrey racing for the airport like the hounds of hell are nipping at his heels. I didn’t tell him it was urgent, didn’t tell him to go any faster than he normally would. But he took one look at my face—and at the empty space next to me—and drew his own conclusions. Conclusions that match mine, and that hurt no matter how much I tell myself not to feel them.
There’s so much going on inside of me right now that I don’t have a clue how to sort it all out. I’m furious, hurt, confused…afraid. It kills me to admit that, even to myself. And so I don’t. Instead, I focus on the rage of being walked out on…again. This time, she didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me she was going. Instead, she just snuck away while I was out…like she didn’t give a shit. Or worse, like a woman who was afraid of her lover. Of her husband.
Goddamnit!
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not
to punch my fist through the fucking car window. How could she do this? How could she run away from me like I was no better than Brandon? No better than the family she despises?
I pull out my phone, start to call her. But what am I going to say? More important, what is she going to say? What we need to tell each other needs to be done face-to-face.
And still I don’t put the phone away. Still, I stare at it like it’s a fucking lifeline. Like it’s the only thing keeping me sane and breathing. In the end, I can’t help myself. I hit the shortcut for her contact info. And curse bitterly as I go straight to voicemail.
This time, I do slide the phone back into my pocket, telling myself that she isn’t answering because she’s probably already on a plane. Planes leave from here to San Diego pretty much every half hour, especially if you’re not picky about what airline you take. If she timed things just right, Chloe could be almost to San Diego by now.
The rest of the ride is a blur. As is the half hour plane trip back to San Diego. In fact, I’m so lost in thought that Jenny, my regular flight attendant, has to call my name more times than I know before it finally registers that we’ve landed. I’m home.
Too bad that, without Chloe, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like I am.
I try calling her again as I make my way through the private plane terminal at Montgomery Field. She still doesn’t answer.
I’m back to fuming, any calm I’d managed to channel on the plane going up in smoke as I’m met—again—with a Chloe who ignores me when things go bad. A Chloe who runs instead of digging in and battling for what’s important.
And that’s when it hits me. Underneath the fear, underneath the fury, is a disappointment so keen it nearly brings me to my knees. I expected more from Chloe this time around. Just like I expected more from myself.
I left one of my cars in short-term parking when we left for Vegas four days ago, so it doesn’t take long before I’m pulling out of the airport and into the streets of downtown San Diego. I’m on Harbor Drive now, which runs right along the bay, and it’s beautiful—sailboats cutting sharp lines through the inlet of water as, in the distance, the ocean stretches farther than the eye can see.
The proximity to the water soothes me, the endless crashing of the waves calling to a space deep inside of me that is only truly calm when I’m on the water—or with Chloe. She gives me what the water does—peace. Only she does it with a look, a touch, a breath.
The idea of never having that again makes me crazy. Chloe spends so much time berating herself for needing me that she doesn’t realize I need her the exact same way. Maybe even more. Without her, my skin feels itchy, like it doesn’t quite fit right, no matter how hard I try to adjust. With anyone else, it would make me crazy. But with Chloe, it just feels right. No matter how bad things are, it still always feels right.
Or at least it did. Now, everything feels off. Everything feels wrong. Like I’m caught by the undertow and no matter how hard I fight it, it’s dragging me under. I’m drowning without Chloe and I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. How I’m supposed to take a breath without her.
Lost in thought, I battle my way through San Diego’s traffic until I’m on the 52 freeway, only a few minutes from my exit. I think about calling Chloe again, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a point. I’m not naïve enough to think she’ll answer, and all I’ll end up doing is forewarning her that I’m back in San Diego. Not that she doesn’t know that I’ll come after her, but at this point if the element of surprise gives me a little bit of advantage, who am I to walk away from it?
I pull up to Tori’s condo, cursing the lack of parking as I do. I circle the block a couple times before punching in the code for the underground garage. I don’t have a parking spot in there, but I slide into someone else’s. It’s the middle of the day, so hopefully they’ll be at work. And if they’re not…well, they can tow me.
By the time I park the car, I’m all but vibrating with anger and nervousness—and that fear I still don’t want to acknowledge but can’t get away from. I don’t bother waiting for the elevator, instead choosing to bound up the three flights of stairs that will take me to Chloe’s level.
I’m all but running by the time I get to the top, and I force myself to stop. To take a deep breath. To try to collect myself before I start pounding on Tori’s door like a madman.