The Mighty Storm

Chapter Twenty-Eight




“I don’t want you to feel forced into doing anything my darling … it’s just the publishing house are being very insistent that the last show is covered as part of the biography. They’re saying they won’t run the book without it…”
Vicky’s soft voice is relentless down the phone.
I lay back on my mum and dads sofa, curling my legs up, tucking my feet under my bum, and stare up at the ceiling.
There’s a crack in the far corner. I wonder if my dad knows it’s there? I should tell him so he can fix it.
“…and I know this must be so hard for you, my darling, and honestly, I’ll go with whatever you want.”
There’s a long pause.
Oh, she’s stopped talking. That means I have to.
“It’s fine, Vicky,” I exhale. “When I said to you I would do it, I meant it. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do, my darling.”
“I know, and I love you for it. And for letting me work from home this last week – well from my folks anyway.”
“You didn’t have to work at all.”
“I did. You’ve given me far too much time off as it is.”
“Tru, you’ve just had your lovely heart broken in the worst kind of way, you need time to get yourself together.”
She means publically.
It’s bad enough having your heart broken by the love of your life, but when the rest of the world is feeding off that heartbreak it makes it hurt just that bit more.
I squeeze my eyes shut forcing back the tears I can feel threatening. “Thank you, but honestly I just need to keep busy. Working keeps me busy.”
“I get that, honey. But this work we’re talking about you doing now – the bio, involves … Jake,” she says his name like it’s a swear word.
Which it kind of is to me right now. It makes me wince just hearing it out loud.
“It means you’re going to have to see him again. Spend time around him.”
I let out a light sigh. “I know.”
And this is why you never mix business with pleasure as I’m learning fast.
I knew getting involved with Jake while working for him was a little risky, but I ignored that small voice in my head because I figured it was Jake.
Jake who I’ve known and loved forever.
I never foresaw anything like this happening. That I would ever lose him again. So back then it didn’t matter.
Now it does.
Because not only do I have to go and spend time around him again, but I have to write this damn book about him.
I really have no clue how I’m going to manage to do it after everything that has happened between us.
I’m trying to look on the cleansing side of it. Thinking that writing about Jake will be therapeutic. A way of getting him out of my system and letting him go for good.
Well that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.
The publishing house is pushing for the book because I’m the one who has been cheated on by Jake, and they're relishing the thought of a book wrote about Jake Wethers by the woman he betrayed.
Hence the push to get me back to the show, and back to him.
I’m also not stupid. I know Jake is ultimately behind this; this is his way of trying to force me to talk to him, to see him.
The publishing house has been onto Vicky, saying the last show of the tour in New York has to be covered for the book, which is in two days. And if I don’t attend and cover it, they will pull the exclusive from the magazine and the book will be dropped.
That’s all Jake.
He’s got the publishing house doing his dirty work for him, pulling the strings, making it appear it’s them forcing this not him. But I know it’s him.
Jake’s very adept at getting people to do want he wants. I know that all too well.
And, it appears, he’s once again going to get me to do what he wants.
I hate that I can’t fight him on this. I want to. More than I can explain. I want to dig my heels in and say I won’t do it, but I can’t risk this for Vicky. The magazine is everything to her. And she means so much to me. She’s one of my closest friends, and I won’t let her down.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Jake since I left five days ago.
When I left the hotel room and him, I got the next available flight out to Manchester and came straight home to my mum and dads instead of going to London. I just wanted to hide.
Jake found me anyway.
I was being stupid. Of course Jake would know if I wasn’t in London there would only be one other place I’d go.
In hindsight, I should have checked into a hotel, but I was hurting and I just wanted my daddy and mama.
Jake was calling my folks house pretty much on the hour, every hour for the first day. My dad spoke to him. I refused to. I don’t know what was said.
I don’t want to know.
Oh actually that’s a lie, I know one thing. I overheard my dad telling my mum that Jake was going to walk out on the tour. That he was going to fly here to see me. Like he thinks he can just turn up here and I’d see him – not bloody likely – but my dad talked him down.
He said he would work on getting me to speak to Jake.
He’s had no luck so far.
Jake sends flowers every day. I bin them. He sends letters. I tear them up without reading.
I don’t want to know a thing from him, or about him.
But then it’s pretty hard going being who Jake is, and the fact that our relationship, or once was relationship, is current tabloid fodder for the daily’s thanks to his trampy little slut.
So now I can’t even go online or watch the TV for fear of seeing something new about us in the news.
The girl I found in Jake’s bed, Kaitlyn Poole is her name – I hate her, just getting that in there – sold her story to a US tabloid, and now it is worldwide news.
She’s claiming that she and Jake have been having an affair the whole time he’s been with me, and the press are lapping it right up.
Do I believe that?
Right now I’m struggling to consider anything about the situation as a whole, because I can’t get my mind past the image of him in bed with her.
Kaitlyn ‘Bitch’, as I refer to her, has pictures of Jake in bed from that night. They weren’t clear pictures, kind of dark, taken with a camera phone I’m guessing. And he looked sort of asleep in them. Well his eyes were closed. But that doesn’t mean anything. My eyes are closed in tons of pictures because I always blink when the flash goes off.
But the point is, she was lying next to him in bed. Her face beside his – in bed.
Her in bed with Jake. That’s all I need to know, to tell me everything I already knew.
Also there is one of her sat on Jake’s lap in what is apparently the hotel bar. You know the one he was sat pining over me in, waiting for me in after our fight, yeah that bar.
So details of my life, the life I shared with Jake, and his betrayal have been splashed all over the news for the world to see.
My pain is up for public consumption. And it’s the worst kind of torture.
I’m not a public person. Of course I knew what being with Jake entailed, I just never foresaw this. And now I know, with absolute certainty I’m not cut out for the type of life he leads. His life belongs to the whole world. I don’t want that for myself.
Maybe Kaitlyn Bitch did me a favour. Because at least I now know what life with Jake really consists of. It’s best I get out now, early on, before I got in too deep.
Well that’s what I’m telling myself anyway. My heart is telling me I was already in way too deep to begin with.
So for five days I’ve been hiding at my folks, letting my dad deal with the press at the door and on the phone, and the paps hanging around outside waiting to get a picture of me.
I hate to bring it to their doorstep, but I just couldn’t go back to my flat – that would have meant dealing with it alone. I know I have Simone there, but it wouldn’t have been fair to pull her into this, especially not when she’s with Denny. That already ties her up in it enough as it is.
So I’m letting my dad kick paparazzi butt, while I hide in the house, working on my column to keep busy.
My mum and dad have been great these last five days. I couldn’t have coped without them, well not that I’m actually coping in any way … more coasting.
My mum has even managed to refrain from an ‘I told you so’ about Jake, and my dad … well, he hasn’t said it outright to me, but I think he believes Jake is telling the truth about Kaitlyn Bitch. And my dad thinking that Jake is telling the truth makes me wobble a little if I’m being totally honest.
But what’s making me falter just that little bit more is the whole ‘they’ve been having an affair’ story. Because honestly, a story is what I believe that to be.
She’s lied for sure about some of the times she said she was with Jake. They just aren’t possible, because he was with me.
One of them was when everyone still thought Jake was in LA, but he wasn’t, he was in London with me. It was straight after his dad died and he got the jet over here to be with me. Because he needed me.
Kaitlyn Bitch is claiming to the press they spent the night together in a hotel in LA, that he flew her in. She even has her friend backing her up, saying she was with Kaitlyn Bitch when he called.
I could go public and out it as a lie, but I don’t want to be pulled into the press any more than I am being, and really, what’s the point. Ultimately it doesn’t erase the fact that I caught him in bed with her. So whether they were having a full blown affair, or it was just a one nighter that she’s embellishing for the press, it’s irrelevant.
He betrayed me.
Apparently, Jake is suing the paper that ran the story, the one which bought the rights to it.
Simone told me. Denny told her.
Really I don’t care what Jake does.
I’m done with it all. I’m done with him.
I just want to get his little game called New York over and done with, so I can move on with my life.
“I can do this, Vicky,” I infer, not really sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself in this moment. “I’ll be fine. I’m done with Jake. I’ll go to New York, cover the show, then come straight home, and I’ll finally be free of it all.”
Free of him. Well, once the bio’s done that is.
“Do you want me to come to with you? Moral support, and also I can kick his ass for you if you want.”
I smile at the sentiment. “Thanks for the offer, but if anyone were to be kicking Jake’s ass it’d be me. You’ve got enough on at the magazine at the moment. I’ll be fine. Just in and out for the show. I’ll arrange my flights so I’m there for a day max. Do my job, and then straight back home.”
I hear her exhale down the line. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, sweetheart. This is Jake we’re talking about.”
“I know. But I’ve had time away from him, and I’m feeling stronger now. I’m not going back to him, no matter what games he plays. I’ll do my job, and then he’s out of my life for good.”
“As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
“Tru … look, this is just me playing devil’s advocate here, as your friend … but have you considered the possibility that maybe Jake is telling the truth. I know you found him in bed with that trampy girl, but he’s been so adamant about it, and her selling her story to the press about the whole torrid affair thing, and him suing them all, big guns, it just makes you think a little, you know.”
“I’ve considered it,” I concede.
Minutes ago in fact. And every other single minute of the day before that.
“But I just…” I sigh rubbing my face. “I just don’t know anything anymore Vicky, except for the fact that I found him in bed with her.”
I can’t shut my eyes without fear of seeing it on playback.
“But sometimes the picture doesn’t show the true facts – you know.” I can mentally feel her nudging me. “Maybe you should talk to him. Listen to what he has to say. He’s obviously desperate to see you, my darling, and he’s struggling, that’s plain for everyone to see.”
Jake wasn’t going to do the show at TD Garden after I left him, but somehow the guys got him on stage.
I haven’t seen the show, this is all what I’m hearing from Simone when I’ve talked to her on the phone, not that I asked for any details, but she felt the need to share, and she’s getting her feed direct from Denny, so I’m taking it as read.
But from what Simone said, Jake literally went on stage, sang straight through, number after number, no Jake banter, no nothing. He finished the set, walked off stage, giving no encore and got Dave to take him straight back to the hotel. That’s pretty much how the last few shows since have been as well.
And the worst thing about it is some of his fans are blaming his behaviour on me for leaving him. Can you f*cking believe it! Some are blaming the skank I found in his bed too. But even so, it’s just more crap to add to the pile. Another sharp prod to remind me of why I could never be with Jake again.
Also, Simone told me Jake’s clean.
She said he hasn’t used since I left. Apparently he got in touch with his sponsor. He isn’t going back to rehab, he’s doing it with the support of his sponsor and drug counsellors, so at least one good thing has come out of this whole continuing nightmare.
I’m glad he’s clean. More than glad, I’m relieved. I might be pissed at Jake, but I don’t want him hurting himself on that rubbish.
“Honestly, talking to Jake about any of it is the last thing I want to do right now,” I say to Vicky. “The extent of my vocab with him will be about the tour and nothing more. I just want to go to New York, cover the show and then come back to London and get straight back to work. I just need to get back to normal – you know.”
“I do, and I’ll support you however I can.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so let’s get this New York ball rolling, the quicker it's done, the quicker you’re out – right? So do you want me to call Stuart and let him know you’re going, or do you want to call him?”
“I’ll call him,” I reply without hesitation.
I haven’t spoken to Stuart since I left. I miss him tons.
“Do you have his number there, Vicky?” I don’t have anyone’s numbers. They were all stored on my phone. The phone Jake broke.
I haven’t got a replacement yet. There hasn't been an opportunity to do so, and there’s no real point in having one at the moment. I’d only get calls I don’t want to receive. I do miss hearing Adele though.
Vicky gives me Stuart’s number, and I hang up from her.
I feel nervous calling Stuart. Calling him is the closest thing to calling Jake.
“Stuart Benson?” His lovely warm voice comes down the line and I feel my lip instantly wobble.
“Stuart, hi, it’s Tru.”
“Oh…um…hi.”
Okay, so that’s not the response I was hoping for. I guess he hasn’t missed me like I’ve missed him. And there was me thinking we were good friends. I’m so crap at judging people.
“I was just calling to, uh … let you know that I’ll be coming to cover the show in New York.”
Silence.
Is he mad at me or something?
“That’s great,” he finally says.
He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s great.
“Stuart, is everything okay? Are you angry with me or something?”
“No, of course not gorgeous.” Well that sounded the most Stuart-like sentence I’ve heard this whole phone conversation.
“It’s just something,” he adds, emphasising on the ‘something’ and my brain clicks in.
“Jake’s there with you isn’t he?”
“Yes, I’m in the car, with – something and I figured, you wouldn’t want – you know.”
“Who the f*ck are you being so cryptic with?” I hear Jake’s voice loud and clear in the background.
My heart starts to hurt just hearing his voice.
Oh God. I miss him so much.
No I don’t. I hate him.
I think.
I don’t know.
Crap.
Look at me. I hear his voice, and my head turns to mush. How the hell am I going to manage going to New York and seeing him for a whole day.
No, I’ll be fine. I can do it for Vicky and the magazine. That’s all that matters.
“I’m talking with my boyfriend,” Stuart says to him. “Mind your own f*ckin’ business.”
“Since when have you got a boyfriend?” I can almost hear the pause and Jake’s mind working, and I just know what’s coming next. “Is that Tru on the phone?”
My heart stops dead in my chest.
“No,” Stuart says to him. “I’m gonna have to go lover,” he says down the line to me, “my ass of a boss won’t let me – Jesus Christ, Jake! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I hear the tussle, and Stuart’s voice fading away, as Jake wrestles the phone from off him.
Any second now I’m going to hear his voice.
I want to hang up. No I don’t.
My hand is clamped around the phone, suddenly slick with sweat.
“Tru is that you?” Jake’s deep voice comes breathy down the line.
My chest tightens. I can’t speak.
“It is you isn’t it? That’s why you’re not saying anything.”
I take a deep breath, and exhale, “Yes.”
“Tru, oh God, baby, I miss you so much,” his words come out in a flurry and I can hear the relief in his voice. “Please let me see you. I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry for everything. Please just let me see you.” His voice starts to break down the line.
Tears fill my eyes.
I force them back with blinks, and then I steel myself to speak. “I’m coming to New York in a few days to cover the show.”
“You are? Oh thank god. Thank you, baby. You won’t regret this, we can talk and sort all of this out and–”
“No Jake. We’re not sorting anything out, because there’s nothing to sort out. I’m coming to cover the show because you’re forcing me to. Anything else, you and I, we’re done. For good. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Tru, no, please.”
My heart feels so heavy in my chest it’s practically labouring into my stomach.
I force a strength which I don’t own right now, and maybe never will again, and taking a deep breath, I say, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, forcing me to come to New York like this so you can try and feed me your bullshit lies. Using Vicky and the magazine to get to me. It’s low Jake, even for you. And if you thought for one moment this would give you the chance to fix things, somehow make me care for you again, then you’re sadly mistaken. All you are doing is making it easier for me to hate you more than I already do.” Another deep breath. “Please ask Stuart to email the flight and accommodation details to me. Goodbye, Jake.”
“Tru, no! Wait! You’ve got it all wrong! Just talk to me, hear me out on this, please.”
I still for a minute.
I’m wobbling again. I close my eyes and see the image of him in bed with her.
“No.”
I hang the phone up on him.
Dropping it to the floor, I start sobbing into my hands.


We land in at JFK at 10pm. Simone is with me. I was going to come alone as I’m only doing a short stop over. But Simone didn’t want me to come alone. She was insistent. And she said she was going to come and see Denny soon anyway, so she was killing two birds.
Dave’s in the airport waiting for us.
“Hey, Tru,” he smiles down at me.
“Hi, Dave.” I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
He looks at me surprised, and I see a little flush rise in his cheeks.
“I’ve missed you,” I say to him. It’s true I have. I’ve missed all of them.
“Well, we’ve all missed you here too.” I get the distinct impression he’s referring to Jake in that sentiment.
“Hi, Simone,” he says taking both our cases from us. “The car’s just up front.”
Threading my arm through Simone’s we follow Dave out to the car.
Denny is in the car waiting for us – well Simone, not me obviously. And she’s a little more than overjoyed to see him.
It makes me hurt.
I’m happy for her of course, but it just reminds me of the time I landed in Stockholm and Jake was waiting in the car for me. The day we swapped our friendship bracelets.
I touch it on my wrist. I haven’t been able to take it off yet. I’m still wearing the Tiffany necklace too.
I will take them both off, soon, I’m just not ready to yet.
A little part of me wondered if Jake would be waiting in the car for me, and I hate that I felt such a strong smart of disappointment that he wasn’t.
He hasn’t tried to make any form of contact with me in the last few days. No flowers. No letters. He’s been completely quiet.
Maybe he’s finally got the message after I told him on the phone.
Good, I’m glad.
I think.
Crap.
I sit up front with Dave, to give the lovebirds a little time to themselves in the back, on the ride to the hotel, and I chat with him about everything from the weather to sports, making sure to avoid any conversation that could lead to Jake.
We’re staying at the Mandarin Oriental. Dave parks up in the hotel car park, and insists on taking my case up to my suite for me. Denny’s all set with Simone’s. He’s so sweet to her.
Denny and Simone are staying on the 52nd floor, so they get out of the lift first. I’m on the 53rd.
Simone hugs me goodbye as she’s getting out of the lift.
“Will you be okay?” she says into my ear. “I can stay with you if you want.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll be fine,” I say releasing myself from her embrace. “Go have fun with Denny and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She reluctantly backs out of the lift. “You know where I am if you need me.”
“I do, now go … night, Denny.” I smile at him.
“See you later, Tru.”
Dave lets go of the hold button, and I wave to Simone as the doors close.
We go up one more floor, and then we’re at mine.
Dave wheels my case along the hall for me.
“This is you,” he says, stopping outside the double door marked Presidential Suite.
What the hell?
He puts the key card in and pushes open one of the doors for me.
“I’m staying in here?” I give him a confused look.
Dave nods, and hands me the key card.
“Alone?”
“Yes, Tru,” he chuckles.
I know I’ve stayed in these kinds of suites before, but the Presidential Suite is generally the best suite the hotel has to offer. It’s always the one Jake stays in.
“But … this is too much for just me,” I mumble, poking my head in through the door.
I gasp.
It’s bloody massive. Bigger than any I’ve ever stayed in with Jake before.
I look back at Dave, wide eyed.
He shrugs, smiling. “Stuart books the rooms.”
On Jake’s orders.
“I’ll have to thank him, a lot,” I mutter, taking my case from Dave. “Thanks for picking me up from the airport.” I smile up at him.
“My pleasure.”
“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will,” he smiles. “Goodnight Tru.”
“Night,” I reply.
Dave backs up and starts to walk down the hall, then he stops a few feet away and turns to look at me.
“I know it’s not my place, and I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but for what it’s worth, I don’t believe what that girl’s claiming. I’ve worked for Jake for a long time and I’ve seen a lot, and I also have a knack for knowing when people are lying – something I learned in my years as a marine, and in my opinion Jake’s telling the truth.” He presses his lips together giving me one last small smile, then turns and walks away.
I close the door behind me and lean up against it.
Everyone believes Jake. I think even Simone does to be quite honest, but she hasn’t said. So it seems it is only me who doesn’t believe him. But then I was the one who found him in bed with her.
And Dave was a marine? How did I not even know that?
But still, don’t digress and don’t waiver Tru. Trust your own judgement. You know what you saw.
Jake’s a womaniser. Everyone knows that. It’s who he is, so why in the world would he ever change for you.
Pulling my case through the suite, I park it up in the humongous bedroom, and that’s when I see a light blue gift box sitting on the equally humongous bed.
Jake.
I go over and sit on the edge of the bed beside it. Tentatively I lift the lid off the box.
Inside is a brand new iPhone. There’s also a little card in the box. I open it and read:


This is to replace the one I broke. It’s registered to your old number. I set it up for you with your ring tone.
J. x


With trembling fingers I pick the phone up, dropping the card back into the box.
I can’t believe he bought me a brand new iPhone – no, actually I can, this is Jake we’re talking about.
Well I’m not keeping it. He can’t buy me back with fancy gadgets.
It is pretty though.
I might just turn it on, see what it’s like, you know, in case I decide to buy myself one after I’ve given him this one back.
I switch it on and the screen lights up. I wait while it loads.
The screen saver comes into focus behind the icons. It’s a picture of Lumb Falls.
Tears instantly fill my eyes from the barrage of memories it brings.
Is he trying to hurt me?
I press the music icon, ridding the picture from the screen, and see just one song sitting in there. Adele. My ring tone.
Selecting the song to play, I sit and listen as Adele starts to sing, acapella from my phone.
I’ve never heard this version before. I wonder where he got it?
Over Adele’s singing, I hear a light knock on the main door.
It’s probably Simone coming to check on me. She’s such a worrier.
I wander from the bedroom, phone in hand with Adele still singing, through the living room, and I swing the door open.
Jake.
My heart stops.
He looks beautiful, so very beautiful. He’s unshaven, his eyes dark, tired, but he is still so absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.
It makes my chest hurt.
His scent permeates the air. His special Jake scent. My insides start to ache, and my fingers itch with absolute desperation to touch him.
All of my anger toward him dissipates. All the things I wanted to say, thought I would say to him – gone.
I’m rendered powerless by his presence.
I clutch my hand around the still singing phone.
“You got it.” He looks down at the phone in my hand.
My eyes follow his. “I-I did. Yes, thank you – you didn’t have to buy me this though.”
“Yes I did.” He looks up, straight into my eyes.
My legs start to tremble.
“You like the song?” he asks, blinking me free.
“Yes, thank you. It’s amazing. I love it.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that.”
I’m confused, and a little suspicious. “Where did you get the song?”
He pushes his hand through his hair and hangs it off the back of his neck; I see the muscles in his arms tense. It makes me want to touch him even more.
“It’s yours. She recorded it to the phone as a favour for me.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Holy f*ck. He got me my very own acapella recorded ring tone. I am the only person in the world to have to this version.
I have my very own special ring tone, because of him.
What was left of my heart has just been crushed to smithereens. I can feel tears thickening my throat.
He makes it so hard for me to hate him when he does ridiculously lovely shit like this for me.
No, don’t weaken. It’s just all part of his plan to trick his way back into my life.
He had sex with another woman.
I think.
I don’t know.
F*ck.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
We stare at one another for a long moment. Adele stops singing in my hand, breaking it.
“Did you want something or…?” I pull nervously on the hem of my T-shirt, looking down away from his heavy stare.
“Oh, yeah, I uh … I brought your things.” He pulls a suitcase out just from behind the wall.
My suitcase. The one I left in Boston. He’s kept it with him this whole time.
To be honest I hadn’t really thought about what he’d done with it.
“Thank you,” I say taking it from him. My fingers graze his in the exchange.
Heat sears painfully up my arm, coursing through my body, careening straight for my heart.
I wheel the case in, parking it up by the side of the door, desperately trying to control my feelings.
“So…um.” He brushes his hand through his hair again. “Do you need anything or…?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
This is so hard. There’s no witty Jake banter. The ease that has always been between us is gone. It’s almost like we’re strangers. He’s not my Jake anymore, and it hurts beyond words.
“Okay.” He steps back. “So…I guess I’ll see you – tomorrow.”
He’s leaving. A sinking feeling encompasses me. I don’t want him to go.
Yes, I do.
Composing myself, I say, “Goodnight, Jake.”
“Goodnight, Trudy Bennett.” He smiles at me ruefully.
As I start to close the door, he speaks again. “Tru?”
I open the door back up.
“It’s really good to see you again. You look…well.”
“Thanks.” I force a painful smile. “You too.”
I close the door, shutting him out.
Leaning up against it, catching the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I slide down, sinking to the floor, under the weight of the grief which is crushing me.
This is so much harder than I could have ever thought.
Taking a deep breath I attempt to steady my emotions.
It’s just one day Tru, that’s all. Get through tomorrow and the show, then your flight is booked for straight afterwards, and you’re home free.
Or am I? Will I ever truly be free of Jake when he’s already worked so deeply into my heart.
Adele starts to sing in my hand. Lifting it up, I see I have a text.
Jake:

When I said you looked well, what I really should have said was that you look beautiful. x

And there’s my Jake.
Unstoppable tears trickle from my eyes, as I start to drown in memories of him. The feel of his skin against mine, his kiss, the way he made love to me.
I don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard being around him.
No, I can, it’s just twenty-four hours. Twenty-four tiny hours to get through.
But even as I think it, fighting my internal battle, I don’t feel so sure anymore. And then my tears turn into full on sobs, and I keep crying until all I’m left with is dry heaves racking my body senseless.