Julianna
After calling Helen to tell her I was getting sick and wouldn’t make for the showing, I walked into the house and threw my purse on the couch. It was quiet. Disturbingly quiet. I wrapped my arms around my chest and rested my back against the front door, closing my eyes, trying not to think about what had just happened. That lunch had been so uncomfortable, a drastic change from what our breakfast had been like.
Of course, he’s going back to San Diego. Why wouldn’t he?
Mr. Womanizer had the chance to make even more money. No man in his right mind would walk away from millions of dollars just to play house with a woman like me. What was I thinking?
Images of Cam kept going through my mind, too, reminding me that I needed to stop making the same mistakes expecting a different outcome. I needed to learn that most men didn't want a relationship, and they also had no problem lying to get what they wanted before breaking your heart.
I instinctively placed my hands over my chest, right above my own heart.
After a few minutes, I forced myself to walk down the hallway and into the kitchen. It still smelled like pancakes and maple syrup, and sure enough, there was a sink full of dishes from that morning. Jake hadn’t washed everything he needed to make pancakes with Caley. As I felt tears forming in my eyes, I walked over to them and began scrubbing. I couldn’t believe that it was happening all over again.
The batter had formed a crust along the top of the mixing bowl, so I squirted more dish detergent onto the sponge and took out my anger. How ironic, I thought while washing it as hard as I could. Yet again, I’m forced to clean up a mess that a man made.
I couldn’t take looking at the pancake batter anymore. All it did was conjure up images of that morning, seeing Caley’s face so happy as she called him ‘Jakey,’ and he helped her make breakfast.
The coffee pot was still half-full, so I dumped it out and began washing it. In all of my years with Cam, not once had he made me coffee. It was always me getting up to make breakfast. I was the one who had to make coffee. If I ever woke up after him, he’d just be sitting downstairs waiting for me to make it.
Tears tipped my eyelashes and slipped down my cheeks. I finally found a man who wanted to take care of me, and then he had to leave town.
I dropped the sponge, and the coffee pot in the sink wiped my face clean and went upstairs. Since Caley was always putting on new clothes, she had a never-ending supply of laundry that needed to be washed.
Sure enough, her hamper was full, which I was thankful for. It gave me something to focus on instead of moping about another failed relationship.
As I was throwing her clothes into the washing machine, I saw a dress that Jake had recently gotten for her. It was pink with white bows all over it. Caley was so proud, she put on a fashion show to model her new dress for us. He had even taken part in it by wearing a purse and hat.
I chucked it, and the rest of her clothes into the washer carelessly dumping some detergent in and then slammed the lid shut.
How dare he do this to Caley.
My heartbreak was turning to anger because it had nowhere else to go. I leaned against the washing machine. I knew I’d be strong enough to get through it, even though it’d take some time, but Caley may never recover. She might as well grow up believing that all men eventually leave, and why wouldn’t she? Her father hadn’t seen her in God knows how long, and his phone calls had become more sporadic day by day.
I suspected he only called to keep me from getting on his case, and I’m sure Lydia was involved in that too. That bitch didn’t have any boundaries. I shook my head and walked down to the living room. Standing in the doorway, I took a deep breath. Cleaning. That was the only thing I knew to do.
The living room seemed clean for the most part, save the blanket I always wrapped myself in at night after putting Caley to sleep. I folded it and draped it neatly over the back of the couch, pausing to remember how Jake and I decided in that very spot that he’d sleepover for the first time.
Once again, the tears started to flow, but I wiped them away and left the living room. Jake was not worth crying over, I kept telling myself.
The last thing I wanted to see was my bedroom, but I knew that I’d have to eventually. So I slowly made my way upstairs, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to see.
There were my bedsheets, still messed up from when I had raced out of bed that morning, convinced he’d left me just like Cam. As I stared at the bed, I felt the tears taking over.
Our shower sex was more sex than making love, but it was impossible to deny the emotional connection between us. Especially since I ended up sleeping in his arms all night long. I could still smell him, feel his warmth around me.
This time I couldn’t hold back the tears.
They began pouring down my cheeks like waterfalls. I backed up and reached out, grasping the doorframe. Everything I feared was happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I absolutely hated myself for falling in love with Jake Truman! Before I knew it, I was hunched over, my hand on my chest, feeling the pain coming full force.
I stumbled for the bed and laid my body on Jake's side, face down into his pillow. It smelled just like his cologne, Versace Euros.
As I sobbed for what seemed like forever, images of us flashed through my head. I kept trying to get them out, but it felt like they were on autoplay. Our picnics at the park, outings to ice cream shops, taking Caley to museums, and our movie nights. We became a family, and now we weren’t.
I am so stupid.
I picked up my head and punched the tear-stained pillow. It was all my fault, too. What kind of woman falls for a guy like Jake? I deserved every ounce of pain that I was feeling and deserved the deep depression that would undoubtedly follow over the next months, if not years. I’d even heard him talking with his best friend back in San Diego on a few occasions.
Hillard. I knew damn well that when Jake went back home, the two of them would be flirting and hooking up with women who were only after his money. There would be even more articles of him online, possibly even mocking his small-town romance and how he just couldn’t wait to get back to his playboy ways.
