Emptiness. Emptiness and hurt. But mostly, regret.
It’s been six months since I left our old apartment in tears, and six months since the man who was my entire world vanished from the earth. I know he’s not dead—I know he’s not. Because I’d feel it if he was, and I know that. I’m not very religious or anything, but I know Colm and I were as close as two people could be. I know he was my everything. My soulmate. The puzzle piece to complete me.
He was all of me.
Yes, I’m mad. As much as I hate to admit, there were reasons I did what I did. The late nights, the darkness in his eyes where I used to only see light. The bloodied knuckles, and drawn look to his face. He wasn’t doing it consciously or on purpose, and I know he was trying to get us a better life. But slowly, he was picking the horrible people he worked for over me, and more often.
But mostly, I’m mad that he disappeared like that. I’m mad that he let me leave. Walking out those months before was stupid, and I’ve spent six months regretting it, and hating myself for it.
But mostly it comes back to him, because mostly, I just miss him.
The song ends, and I sigh. I pluck my empty wine glass from the end table and carry it with me as I head into the kitchen. My phone dings, and I glance down, only to groan and roll my eyes.
Great.
Belinda, my friend from the gallery I work at, has been working over-time trying to “get me back in the game.” Spoiler alert, I want nothing to do with any sort of game, but that hasn’t stopped her trying. At the moment, she’s texting me something about “a catch” she’s got all set up for me.
She means well. Belinda is divorced herself, from what sounds like a truly horrible, mentally and physically abusive ex-husband. So, that’s the lenses she sees me through. But my situation isn’t like that.
For one, Colm never hurt me. He never scared me. He never raised his voice to me, was never even angry around me, even when I knew there was rage roaring through him from the things he did for work. Around me, he swallowed it all away. Around me, the snarling beast I knew he had inside of him was tame, and quiet. I always gave him credit for that, even though he always said it was me that bought him peace.
“You’re the one that calms the beast inside, love,” he murmurs.
“You’re just saying that because I’ve got your cock in my hands.”
He growls, his eyes flashing as his lips sear to mine, and his hands start to peel my clothes away.
“Well that’s certainly part of it.”
I whimper as his mouth slides down my bare neck, his gorgeous, muscled, hardened body rippling against mine as he pulls me onto his lap and sinks that cock deep—
My stupid phone dings again, ripping me out of the flashback fantasy, and I scowl.
Goddamn it, now what.
I glance down at my phone again, as Belinda’s latest text lights up the screen, along with a picture of a handsome if not totally boring looking guy.
His name is Brett. He works in finance. Girl, he’s super cute and he’s just what you need to get back on the horse. Get dressed up, you’re meeting him tonight. Don’t be mad…
I swear, grabbing up my phone to tell Belinda to please back off, when another text comes through. Again, from her, but this one’s a screen shot of a chat conversation from a dating app. My jaw drops.
“Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Apparently, Belinda’s made a profile for me, along with a freaking picture of me. And she’s been chatting with this Brett guy as me. The heat rises in my face, anger simmering hot inside as my read the conversation of my friend pretending to be me and setting me up for a date with “Brett” for tonight. The conversation continues across four more screen shots, until finally, I get to the part that turns me from pissed off to furious.
“Are you fucking crazy?!” I scream, dropping the phone to the kitchen counter before angrily snatching it back up and jabbing my finger to call Belinda.
“You gave him my address?!”
“Abby, hon—”
“No, Belinda!” I spit. “Not fucking cool!”
“Look at him!” She huffs back. “He’s gorgeous, and rich, and available, and it says on his profile that he’s looking for serious commitment!”
“It says to me that he’s a goddamn stranger, and you told him where I freaking live! That is so not okay!”
She huffs, like I’m blowing it out of proportion. “Abs, chill. They vet guys for this site.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, I google-stalked him, and he’s legit.”
“Legit Patrick fucking Bateman who’s going to go all American Psycho on me when he gets here! Which is beside the point anyways, because I keep telling you, I’m not—”