From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (37 page)

I’m the king of the fucking universe and I’m being trumped by the court jester. I go to the bar in the living room and pour myself another drink, wanting to dull my mind and pass out. I didn’t realize how much of an impact Jules had on my life until I walk to the window, standing there while my empire crashes down around me because of a woman.

I down my drink, aggravated. I won’t give her up. Not that easily. I’ll fight for her. I have to. Looking around my penthouse, for the first time since I bought this place four years ago, it feels lifeless.

MY PHONE RINGS
as the airplane taxis in. Seeing her number on the screen surprises me for some reason. I answer after taking a deep breath. “Hello?”

Jules says, “Hi.”

I don’t say anything else, needing her to speak first. She finally says, “I’m so sorry.” Remaining quiet, I let her continue. “I’m sorry for hurting you and for lying to you about him. I’m sorry for letting things get as far as they did and for not loving you like you deserved.”

‘Not loving me.’ “Jule—”

“Please let me finish.” She says, “You’re amazing and I love you, so much. I love you in my heart and I miss you. But I’m messed up on the inside, Austin. He did this to me. He broke more than just my heart. I need help.”

“Are you seeing him?”

With a sigh, she says, “I haven’t since we left. I might need to though, to work through my issues. It’s not against you and I hope you don’t feel that, but I have questions for him. You don’t understand the damage he’s caused. I need answers for closure and answers to move on.”

“I’m not going to wait for you. When I said I’m here if you need me, I will be, but that doesn’t include sitting around hoping you love me one day.”

“You once told me you like the person I am when we’re together. I like that person too. I want to be that person all the time. I can’t do that living in this purgatory.”

The door opens and the staircase is pushed up to the side of the plane. The attendant says, “We’re all clear to deplane, Mr. Barker.”

“Thank you, Louisa.”

“Where are you,” Jules asks, her nerves showing through her shaky words.

“I just landed in the U.K.”

“You left?”

I pull my own punch. “No, Jules. You left.” The other end of the line is silent. “I need to go.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. I have nothing to come home to.”

She whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I. Goodbye.” I hang up, not wanting to hear her say the word to me, not ready for it. I gather my papers, then tuck the files and the photo of her back into my briefcase. Shutting it tight, I stand up and exit the plane.

I USED TO
think the day Dylan left me was the worst day of my life.

I was naïve.

Yesterday was the worst day of my life. When I left Austin’s apartment, I couldn’t bear to go back to mine, so I walk into a hotel on Broadway and stayed the night. I didn’t eat and I didn’t sleep. Instead, I stared out the window at the bright lights and the crowded street below while listening to the occasional sirens.

This morning, standing outside my apartment door, I stare at the wood grain for a minute before I go in. I have no idea what’s going to be inside, wondering if my stuff has been returned just like I was. I can assume my belongings are here already. Austin isn’t like Dylan. He wouldn’t take my stuff to hurt me.

With a shaky hand, I insert the key and turn. Slowly, I open the door and see a moving truck’s worth of stuff sitting in the middle of my living room. My life has been whittled down to an apartment of boxes and furniture, most of which I don’t even care about. These things don’t mean a thing to me. The big furniture pieces are back in their rightful places and old, familiar feelings wash over me. Maybe this apartment is to blame for the long held emotions I’ve been saddled with for years.

My heart aches as I step closer to the pile of boxes stacked in the middle. The painting is still hanging on the wall, my suitcase and purse where I left them.

There’s a note on top of my purse. Bending down, I read it.

Jules,

I love you.

Austin

I drop to my knees, taking the blow of the wood beneath them. Lowering myself into a ball on my side, tucked between the boxes and the suitcase, I cry with one hand gripping my stomach and the note in the other.

I’ve hurt Austin. He’s the man who would give me the world and I hurt him like Dylan hurt me. My stomach rolls, so I ball up tighter, smaller, holding my legs to my chest.
I’m a horrible person.

I don’t hear the click of the door or his footsteps, but I hear Brandon. “Jules?” His voice is soft, whispering near my ear as his hand touches my cheek. Standing back up, he moves some boxes around, the cardboard scraping across the floor, then curls around the back of me. “It’ll be alright. I promise. It’ll be alright.”

“I hurt him, Brandon. He’ll never forgive me and I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

Brandon gives me and the path of destruction that is my life far too much credit. “That’s the first step. You’ve got something to work for now.”

“He left. He went to the U.K.”

“Maybe it was business.”

“Maybe. But what if it wasn’t?”

“You both need time. Take a few days to figure out what you really want. Don’t rush this. Rushing will only hurt people in the process.”

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep and make this nightmare go away.”

“Sleep, Jules. For now.” He strokes my back as I roll over and snuggle into him, finding safety in my closest friend… My head hits the floor and I wake up an hour later, groggy and with a stiff neck. Lifting my burning eyes open, I see Brandon stretching beside me. “Sorry,” he says, “but this floor is hard and uncomfortable. I had to stretch. You should move to the couch or bed.”

I sit up, my body sore… all over and I know it’s not just from the floor, but the heartache as well.

Looking around, I sigh. The scene before me makes me even sadder.

He asks, “You okay?”

“Not really.” I slide over and lean against the foot of the couch, next to him, and stare at the mounds stacked before me. “There’s not much to my life is there?” I count. “Thirteen boxes, two suitcases, and some furniture.”

“You stopped living a long time ago.”

“I see that now, now that all I seem to do is feel. I’m kind of missing the numbness of the past.”

“No,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “You never looked good in numb. Living and emotions are much more flattering on you.”

I smile, a real one. One I want to give to him.

“I didn’t fight for him like he deserves.” I wait for the reprimand, but he doesn’t say anything, so I do, “He broke up with me.”

He says, “You need to figure out what you want. You’re no good for either of them unless you can commit one-hundred percent.”

Silence.

Silence.

I might as well confess all of my sins. “I kissed Dylan. Well, he kissed me and then I kissed him and it was in front of Austin.”

I hear a whispered, “Shit,” then silence again. After stretching his long legs out in front of him, he looks at me and says, “You know, I’ve been listening to what you’ve been saying and it seems to be all about Austin. Maybe, just maybe, your heart has finally aligned with your head.”

Looking around, I scan the room, avoiding Brandon’s eyes altogether. I can’t handle seeing the disappointment in someone else’s eyes.

“Your heart is telling you what you want, Jules. You’re just choosing not to listen.”

“I care about them both.”

He stands up. “Welcome to your life.” Walking to the door, he stops when he reaches for the knob and says, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe you need to love yourself for a while. If they love you like they say, they’ll wait.”

“Austin says he won’t.”

“I don’t like to see you hurt, but I really think you need to figure this one out on your own.”

“I’m beginning to come to that same conclusion.”

Opening the door, he says, “But you know you’re never really alone, right?”

Getting up from the floor and slipping onto the couch, I say, “Thank you for always being here, for being my friend when I need it most.”

“You’re welcome.”

He turns and goes, but I run to my door and call after him, “Hey Brandon, thank you and… and… I love you.”

“I love you too, girl.”

We’re friends, but we’re family too.

TIME.

I haven’t heard from Austin in over a week, and it breaks my heart.
How does he do it? How does he stay strong?
I feel weak and have called him many times, but disconnected before it went through. At night I think about him in the dark, missing the comfort he gave me when he held me, missing him altogether.

Time.

I’m supposed to give him time… or give myself time. I’m not sure anymore. It’s too much to take either way. Austin imbedded himself into my heart when I wasn’t looking. Until we broke up, I wasn’t aware of how deeply. Now I’m stuck with a wounded organ I used to recognize as my heart. It beats differently now that it’s beating alone. It’s just not the same. I’m not the same.

My breakup with Austin is different than my breakup with Dylan. I thought I would be better at this, having mastered the art of the broken hearted.
I’m not.
Each day feels longer and emptier.

I haven’t talked to Dylan though he’s tried to talk to me. I don’t take his calls or answer when he comes to the door. I’m lacking the motivation I once had to get the answers I thought I needed.

One thing I’m sure of is that I want Austin. I was just too foolish to realize it then. To move on with him, I may not need the answers I thought I did, but I do need closure. That means facing my demons head on. In other words, I need to see Dylan.

Picking up my phone, I call Dylan. He answers, “Jules?”

“I need to see you.”

“When?”

I glance over to the clock. “Nine at Romero’s down the street from me?”

“I’ll be there.”

Hanging up, I roll onto my back, my bed feeling like the safest haven I have since I left Austin’s apartment. Looking at the clock one more time, I exhale heavily, then get up.

I don’t care about pretension or putting on something presentable. I slip into a pair of old jeans and pull on a long sleeve T-shirt. My Wellies work since it’s been raining outside and a parka will keep me warm. I grab a knit hat to help stave off the cold front that blew in yesterday. Emotions like my thoughts run rampant as I walk down the street. It’s just two blocks but both dread and anxiety fill me, making each step harder to take.

The door to Romero’s is opened and a couple comes out. The man stops and holds it as I walk in. Pulling my hands from my pocket, I look around then unbutton my coat. Dylan sits at the bar. His head angles in my direction, the glass of whiskey spinning between his fingers. He slides off the stool, taking the glass with him. Walking toward me, I see his own anxiety through his expression. He empties the glass and sets it down on a table he passes.