No. Be strong, Tru. It’s only a week.
No, it’s one hundred and sixty eight hours…
“I’ll miss you, baby,” I said forcing my strength. “So much, but we both have to work.” I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed his lips.
“Move in with me.”
What?!
“What?” I leant back away from his face, resting down onto my unsteady, heeled feet, searching his expression.
“I’ve spent long enough without you in my life, Tru, and I won’t do it again. Come and live with me in LA. Move in with me.”
I run my finger over the screen on my phone, staring at his message again.
…
“Jake, this is crazy! We can’t move in together!”
“No, what’s crazy is that I’m standing in an airport saying goodbye to you again.”
“This isn’t the same as back then. We’re not fourteen anymore. We’re not going to lose each other. I’m yours and you're mine, and that’s never going to change.” I held my friendship bracelet up to him as proof of this. “I’m just going to work for a little while, and then we’ll be back together when I fly out in a week. You’re only asking me to move in with you as a knee jerk, because of how you feel right now about being away from me.”
He took hold of my arm and kissed my friendship bracelet.
“No, I’m not. I want to live with you because I’m in love with you. I want to share my life with you. Just tell me you’ll at least think about it?”
I closed my eyes briefly. “I’ll think about it.”
His hands moved around my neck, and then he was kissing my deeply.
“You won’t regret it,” he murmured.
“I haven’t said yes, yet.” I lifted my eyebrow at him.
“No. But I’m just hoping on the fact you seem to have a hard time saying no to me.”
Dragging my suitcase through to my bedroom, I dump it down on the floor, then sit on the edge of my bed in the silence for a moment.
The last time I was here I was here with Will. Everything has changed so much since then.
I feel a sudden, unexpected tear trickle from my eye. I hurt Will so badly, and I’m never going to be able to take that back or fix it for him.
It’s hard, feeling happiness to the level I do with Jake, when I know it came at the price of Will’s pain.
It was easier to block it all out when I was still in Paris with Jake, but sitting here now, surrounded by memories of Will and the time we spent together, just makes it all so real. And it hurts that I hurt him so terribly.
I loved Will. I still do. Feelings like that don’t just disappear overnight.
I just wish there was some way to tell him how truly sorry I am.
Never would I change choosing to be with Jake, I just wish I’d had the foresight to do it the right way.
But then is there ever an easy way to break the heart of the person you’re in a relationship with, to leave them for your soul mate.
With a sigh, I start to unpack my suitcase, and set to work on doing my laundry.
I hate washing clothes, but it helps to keep my mind occupied from sad thoughts of Will, and scary thoughts of moving in with Jake, until Simone gets home from work.
She’s late getting in as work was busy, but brings pizza home with her, and we sit in the living room eating and drinking wine.
Simone tells me all about Denny and what’s been happening with them since she got back home form Paris.
By the sounds of things, absence is definitely making the heart grow fonder in their case.
She is totally smitten. And I’m so happy for her.
But it’s making me miss Jake even more, hearing her talk about missing Denny.
I’ve been away from Jake for just over half a day and it’s already hurting like a bitch. So lasting a week just doesn’t feel like a physical possibility at the moment. I feel like I’m missing one of my limbs.
But I’m going to do my very best to hold out for as long as I can, because it’s healthy for us to have time apart.
“So how was it leaving, Jake?” Simone asks, picking her wine up and taking a sip.
“Horrible. Hard. Teary.”
“You’re seeing him in a week though?”
“Yes,” I nod. I take a sip of my own wine, then put my glass down and take a deep breath. “Jake has asked me to move in with him.”
She splutters on her wine. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. He’s asked me to move to LA to live with him.”
“Wow,” she says. “So are you going to?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It’s a lot to think about. I love living here with you. I love working at the magazine. I love Vicky. My folks are here in the UK. I just don’t know.”
“You love him?”
I meet her eyes. “Like no one before. I always have.”
“Then you have your answer,” she says softly.
I drag my hands through my hair, trying to compile a coherent sentence, but nothing’s coming, except for that she’s right.
Adele starts singing on the coffee table. One quick glance at my phone tells me it’s Jake.