The Beauty of Us (Fusion #4)

“Oh, sorry.” I take a bite of his slice and moan. “You’re right. Yours is better than mine.”

“When you make that face, it makes me want to—”

“Let me guess, strip me naked and fuck me?” I bat my eyelashes and he narrows his eyes.

“You’ve turned into quite the smart-ass.”

“I’ve always been a smart-ass,” I reply, waving him off. “You just haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed everything,” he replies, more serious now. “I’m going to check my calendar when I get back to work and we can talk about a good time for you to come down.”

I nod and finish my pizza. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, taking my hand and squeezing it.

“Of course.” I smile brilliantly, refusing to let him see me hurting so much inside. “I’m always okay. And you said it yourself, this isn’t good-bye.”

“Right.” He nods and stands, cleaning up our lunch. “I should go. I have to turn in the car.”

“I know.”

No. No. No. Don’t fucking go!

Rather than pick up his bags, he walks to me and wraps me up in his arms, holding on tight and rocking us slowly back and forth.

“Thank you for the past few weeks,” he says, his mouth right next to my ear.

“I love you,” I reply.

“I know.”

And just like that, he’s turned a sad moment into a sweet one.

“Okay, Luke Skywalker, you’re going to be late.”

He stares down at me in horror. “It’s Han Solo’s line.”

“I know.” I punch him lightly in the arm. “I was kidding.”

He narrows his eyes at me as he reaches for his bags. I walk him out to his car and stand quietly as he loads them in the car. He turns to me and kisses me until my knees are weak, right here in front of my neighbors and God, and then pulls away.

“Be good.”

“You be good,” I reply. He gets into the car and buckles up, starts the engine, and waves as he backs out and drives away.

That’s it.

He’s gone.

And I love that he didn’t say good-bye.

When he turns and he’s out of sight, I turn around and walk back inside. The TV is going, but the house still feels quiet. All of his things are gone. The Xbox is no longer sitting by the TV. His computer isn’t on my dining room table.

I wander through the house, and the only thing to remind me he was here is the pizza box in the kitchen.

Just like that, it’s as if he’s erased from my life.

And it hurts.

It fucking hurts so bad.

So I sit in the chair in my bedroom, where his clothes were lying just a few hours ago, and I let the tears come. I’ve earned them. I’m going to cry right now, just today and then not again. Because it’s not sad. We didn’t break up, and he’s not gone forever, and we will be able to talk all the time. I’ll FaceTime him, and I’ll be able to see him.

But I can’t touch him.

He can’t hold me.

And I miss that already. I don’t care if it does make me needy and weak and stupid. I don’t fucking care in the least.

He’s mine and he’s gone.

And that’s not okay.



I haven’t bothered to turn the lights on in the house. I haven’t done much this afternoon except sit on the couch and continue binge-watching the show Trevor and I started this morning. I don’t know where the remote is, and I have no energy to look for it.

Not to mention I’m getting really good at this whole home renovation thing. I think I’ll have my kitchen redone next. I want one of those farm sinks. They’re sexy.

I mean, if a sink can be sexy, those are.

It’s dark outside now, the only light is the glow of the TV. Trevor called an hour ago to let me know that he made it home safely and he misses me already.

He’s going to call me when he goes to bed tonight.

In the meantime, I’m just going to lie here in the dark and watch TV.

The doorbell rings, and I glare at the door, willing whoever is there to leave. If I had the energy, I’d just yell out, Leave!

Instead, I’ll just lie here until they get the hint and go away.

“We know you’re in there!” Addie’s voice yells through the door. Well, shit. The girls are here, probably to make me feel better, but I don’t want them to make me feel better.

I want to wallow.

I pull the door open and flip on the porch light, making all four of them squint in the harsh light.

“Fuck, Riley, warn a girl before you do that,” Mia says.

“We’re here,” Cami says proudly.

“You don’t say,” I reply dryly. “Why are you here?”

“Because we used our Jedi mind tricks and knew that you would need some cheering up,” Kat says.

“And we came with provisions,” Mia says, holding up wine and a white paper bag full of ice cream.

“You guys—”

“You can’t say no,” Addie says, and pushes her way past me and into the house, the others following her. “Trevor sent us here to make sure you’re not too sad.”

“Jesus, it’s dark in here,” Cami says, searching for the light switch. “Since when do you become a cave dweller when you’re sad?”

“I didn’t want to get up and turn on the lights,” I reply. “I have pizza. Does anyone want some?”

“Me,” Kat says. “I haven’t eaten today.”

Having resigned myself to having company, I grab the box of leftover pizza and join the girls in my living room. Mia’s turned off the TV, and everyone is gathered around the coffee table, some on the couch, some sitting on the floor.

“Why don’t you own wineglasses?” Kat asks with a frown as she walks out of the kitchen with regular glasses.

“I only have two, and they’re both dirty in the dishwasher.”

“You can get more at the dollar store, for God’s sake,” she says. “You need more than two.”

“It hasn’t been a problem before today,” I remind her, and gratefully accept a glass of cold, sweet wine. “This is my favorite.”

“I know,” Kat says with a smile.

“How are you?” Cami asks before biting into a slice of pizza.

“Not great,” I reply honestly, happy with just the wine. I don’t need any more food right now. I ate an entire package of Oreos this afternoon.

“Tell us everything,” Addie says. “We haven’t seen much of you in the past week.”

“Thanks for picking up my slack last week,” I say, tears filling my eyes again. “Damn it, I thought I’d already cried all of the tears in the world.”

“Oh, honey,” Mia says, laying her head on my shoulder and rubbing circles on my back. “I’m so sorry that you’re sad.”

“I shouldn’t be sad.” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand in frustration. “I keep telling myself that it’s dumb to be so upset. We didn’t break up. He’s just not here.”

“You have every right to be upset,” Addie says, shaking her head. “This love is new, Ri. It’s fresh and exciting. It’s the best time in a relationship, and just as you were finding your groove, he had to go. I mean, Jake and I have been together for a couple of years, and I still don’t like it when he has to go away for any length of time.”