STEPH
With blurry eyes, I stare at the leather book in my hand. The gaping hole in my heart overflows with sadness, and I’m drowning once more. After reading his letter, the thought of him sad and alone chokes me. I can’t seem to take a deep breath. I’m a shipwreck, swallowed up by a sea of regret. Pulling a tissue from the box on my desk, I wipe my eyes so I can see a little clearer. I skim through the journal until I reach a new entry near the back dated the day I started working at Browns Media.
I dug this journal out after seeing you this week. I couldn't believe it was you. You were always stunning, but you are even more beautiful than I remember. I’d forgotten how I felt about you—really felt—until I saw you again sitting across from me.
Honestly, I never thought I’d see you again, not in this life. I thought fate had given us another chance until I saw your wedding ring and you told me how happy you are. Why am I addressing this to you? I guess I’m just writing everything I want to say, even though I know you’ll never read this.
Watching you work, I couldn't help wonder if you still have your nipple pierced under that smart, sexy, sophisticated exterior. I thought about how I would take the ring between my teeth and tug at it, feeling the cool metal on my tongue.
Does your husband do that now? It drives me fucking crazy thinking of someone else touching you the way I used to. I know I deserve this torment for letting you go at uni. Seeing you again today has brought back all the feelings I had for you. They were never gone—just buried.
I close Cal’s journal as I hear the guys coming back from lunch. My tears have dried, but I haven’t eaten and my stomach rumbles. I hide the journal in the desk before anyone asks questions.
“Are you all right, Steph?” Kelly asks.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.” Oh no, I bet my makeup has smudged. I pull out a little compact mirror and thankfully, I’m okay; my eyes are red but no makeup disasters.
“Did you eat anything?” she asks.
“There are two croissants left on the breakfast table; I’ll polish those off.”
“What was in the package?”
I can’t stop the whimsical smile from spreading across my face. “It’s his diary from university. He wrote things in it about me. I was just reading it.”
She sucks in a breath, then squeals, “That’s so romantic. You guys.”
“Kelly, it’s not romantic.” But I know it is, and probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. That and his letter, and his playlist, and the fact he’s left in the hope I can move on and be happy with my family. Even though I don’t think I can ever move on, but I’m trying to focus on our happy times and allow myself to love him.
Even though we’re not together, I am allowed to love him. That’s something I never did before. Instead, I blocked him from my memory, and wouldn’t allow him headspace. Now there’s a little part of my mind where he lives rent free.A little part? You mean the most part.My subconscious is right. He takes up most of my mind, but I like him there.
Kelly pouts. “Well, I think it is. You’re like two lost lovers rekindling their relationship.”
“Not going to happen. That’s why he left, remember?”
“What? Even now, do you not think you’ll get together?”
“No, I can’t leave my family, Kelly.” She doesn’t have kids, so it’s hard for her to understand. I don’t mention it again, hoping that she won’t bring it up, so I can concentrate on my work. But with every passing minute, I just want to finish reading his journal. I’ve never known an afternoon to go so pissin’ slow. The smile on my face just won’t go,
Finally, it's 5pm. Everyone disappears, leaving me in the office alone. I open the journal again, knowing when I get home I won’t get two minutes to read, not until the kids are in bed. Even then, I don’t want to be pulling this out in front of Justin. Half an hour, then I’ll head home. I open the journal at the beginning.
Mum got me this book at Christmas, said it would be good for me to write my memories at university so I can look back in years to come. Apparently writing’s good for your mentality. If anyone knows how fucked up I am, it’s my mother. Perhaps she’s hoping this will help me with my relationships.
I split up with my girlfriend before Christmas. I knew she had to go when I was picturing Steph’s face while pounding my cock into her. Stephanie Harrington does things to me she’ll never know or understand. Fuck, I’ve wanted her since we moved in together two months ago, maybe longer.
I’ve always found her attractive. She has this girl next door look about her, but I know she’s an animal just like me. Hearing her in her room with some fucking shithead had me in a rage. I was with Stacey, my girlfriend at the time, but I wanted to be with her.
It’s me she should be with, and my name she should be screaming. Fuck, I have it bad. I need to get laid to take my mind off her—I should just get laid by her—would she even have me? I can’t go there. She’s my best friend. What is wrong with me?
After reading, I lock Cal’s journal away in my desk drawer. I can’t have Justin finding this at home. My stomach tightens, and I rub the hollowness in my heart where his love should be. I never knew he felt that way about me before we got together. He was dead against us being boyfriend and girlfriend. I always felt like I had to talk him into being with me, even after we slept together. I never imagined he was shagging his girlfriend and picturing my face.
I can’t stop thinking about what Kelly said. How Cal wasn’t himself, acting like he was going somewhere. When we broke up before, I was in a dark place. It crushes me, thinking he’s struggling. I need to check he’s okay and see him with my own eyes.
With jittery hands, I start the engine and drive to his estate. I’m not ready to talk to him and open up old wounds.You can’t open up wounds that never healed,my subconscious reminds me. I’ll never get over him. It’s always been him. Nobody else will ever compare to him, even when he’s a dickhead. He’s my dickhead, and I love him.
My pulse races as I pull onto his estate. I wait around for his car to make an appearance while I call Justin.
“Hi, sorry, I forgot to call. I got held up at work. I’m on my way home now.”