She was killing me. Every word she spoke killed me a little more.
“I thought you were away till Monday. I wanted to tell you then, face to face.”
I thought she felt the same as I did. I thought what we had meant something to both of us. I flew home early. I bought a house. I bought a house with fucking stables. For her. It was all for her. I needed to make her see. I should’ve gone after her Thursday night. I should’ve told her on the phone how I felt. I should’ve done things differently.
“I came home early to surprise you. I wanted to see you, to tell you, to show you how sorry I am for my behaviour on Thursday night. Kitten, you remember that? Thursday. Two fucking days ago?” I was losing it.
I had never hated and loved someone so much in my life, would never have thought it was possible.
“Two nights ago, Kitten, when I stupidly thought you were in a relationship with me.” I punched my fist into my own chest, but it did nothing to subdue the anger building inside me.
Georgia flinched. “I was. We was …”
I glared at her whilst battling to control the rage burning in every part of me.
I picked up my drink from the bar and downed it in one go. I needed more—more than bourbon, more than beer. There was only one thing that would give me what I needed. One thing that would make me feel like I was invincible and not dying a slow, painful, excruciating death with every word that came out of her lying, cheating, whoreish mouth.
“Sean McCarthy, now why didn’t I work that one out?” I asked her through gritted teeth, barely holding back the need to throw up at the mention of his name. “I knew all about Sean. I just didn’t realise it was that Sean.”
Why didn’t I? How had I never worked that one out? Because I was a love-fucked cunt that was why.
“I didn’t stand a chance did I? Me or a twenty-two-year-old fucking rock god?”
“Cam, please. It’s not like that. I’ve known him since I was eleven years old. He was my boyfriend from the age of thirteen.”
She looked at the ground before looking back at me with those beautiful and oh so blue eyes.
“He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved.”
Boom. There it was, the very last of my will to live leaving my body.
“Thanks, Kitten, thanks for that.”
I turned and walked away, leaving my love and my life at Georgia’s feet.
I grabbed a couple of bottles of bourbon from the bar downstairs and took them home with me. I’d almost finished the first one by the time I’d pulled up outside the wine bar.
When I got to my flat, I went straight to my bedside chest of drawers and found an old contacts book.
All it took was one call. One call, and all of my hard work to get and stay straight the last few years went to shit. What did it matter? I had nothing to live for anyway. If I died, I died. Anything was better than thinking, than remembering her.
CHAPTER 8
Georgia
I’m not sure what wakes me, probably the turmoil that I’ve got going on in my head right now.
This weekend has been horrible and it is all my fault. I thought I was ready to finally have a read through all of Sean’s old letters. I was wrong. It isn’t just about the words they contain, it’s a combination of hurt, anger, and guilt. It would’ve all been so different if one of us had just reached out to the other. Our lives would have taken such different paths if we hadn’t remained apart for those four years.
But then what?
Where would Cam have fit in the picture if Sean and I had married and started a family at eighteen like we had planned? Would I have had him in my life? Would we have still somehow ended up together? Would our children even exist if Sean hadn’t died? I always thought I would have given anything for Sean to still be alive, but I would never give up my family and what I have with Cam.
So what does that mean? What does it say about me as a person? A wife and mother?
I am so sick of it all going around in my head. I am driving myself nuts, so I’ve no clue how Cam must be feeling having to watch me struggle with all of this. Again.
I had never doubted us or the strength of our relationship until yesterday. When he didn’t get up to take the kids to dinner with me, I really thought he’d finally had enough of me and my meltdowns. I made excuses to the kids about him being tired and forced my food down when we got to the restaurant. I smiled and joked with the kids the entire time we were out, but on the inside, I was falling apart.
On the drive home, One Direction’s “History” came on the radio. I am just grateful that the car is dark and the kids are too engrossed in their phones to notice my tears.
I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t survive without his love. I went over a hundred scenarios in my head, considering different ways to convince him not to leave me.