Don’t die.
I should call Eliza. Why?
She just hurts me. The words roll though my head on repeat. How do I turn them off?
Are you in love with Eliza, or are you just looking for an incubator to make your babies?
One sentence.
One sentence to bring my entire self-worth to a screaming halt.
Just one sentence is all it took to see myself how her and the rest of the world see me. As they will always see me.
My past will never be in my past. It will never be done.
I will always be the man with an agenda-a man who wants her for her uterus.
Eliza knows me better than anyone. At least, I thought she did.
She broke something inside of me and I’m trying to get it back. I really am.
I’m calling out to my heart to drop it, but it just can’t.
How do you ignore the most hurtful thing you’ve ever heard?
How do you pretend to yourself that it doesn’t matter that she thinks I would use her to have a child? How do you force yourself to drop something that means everything to you?
What if she’s pregnant?
I put my head into my hands as my elbows rest on my knees as Jolie’s words come back to me. I let the poison roll over me and sink into my soul again.
What are you planning… to give her five years and three kids, and then go back to your ex, while your best friend raises your kids alone?
How could she think I want Robert when she is my entire world?
Doesn’t she know me at all?
How could she go to a bar and say these things when I begged her for an answer all night? How could she? I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it. How could she even think such a thing?
The piercing sound of a flat line echoes throughout the room, and I jump to my feet and hit the call button.
“Justin,” I cry. “Justin, no!” I tear his blankets down to get access to his chest as nurses come running from all directions.
“Stay with me, Justin,” I whisper. “You stay with me.”
Nathan’s alarm goes off at 5:00 a. m., and I watch him stir. I’ve been watching him since he got home and fell into an exhausted sleep. He didn’t get home until two hours ago.
His eyes find me in the darkness, and I smile softly. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
I reach over and cup his face in my hand. “Where were you last night?”
His eyes drop to the blankets. “I lost a patient.”
My face falls. “I’m sorry.” I know how hard this hits him.
“Me, too,” he whispers sadly.
He tries to sit up, and I reach for him. “Nathe.” He turns back to me.
“Can you just…?” I shrug softly. “Hold me for a minute.”
His face softens, and he takes me into his arms. We cling to each other. It’s as if the tighter we hold on, the more we can chase the demons away.
“I love you,” I whisper. “So much. You know that, don’t you?”
“I love you, too,” he murmurs into my hair.
I want to tell him that we can work this out-we need to try harder-but I don’t want to force him into anything if his heart is aching for another.
I need to let him go.
I pull back to look into his big, blue eyes, and they seem so sad. I brush the hair back from his forehead. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“I will be.” He leans in and kisses me softly.
When will he be okay? When he leaves?
We kiss again and again, and it’s filled with regret and sadness.
It’s an emotional overload for both of us.
He rolls over on top of me and falls between my legs as we kiss. Our bodies desperately need the comfort of each other. Needing the connection that’s been missing. He slowly slides the side of his shaft through my lips… but I’m dry.
So, dry. A first.
“You’ll need something.”
He reaches over and grabs some lube from the top drawer. He massages it in, and then he slowly rises above me and slides in deep.
Our breaths catch, and we stare at each other.
His body is deep inside mine.
I stare up at him as emotion overwhelms me.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs back, but there’s an emotion behind his words.
Something that I can’t put my finger on.
Regret? Anger? Is it sadness?
Is this goodbye?
He rises above me on straightened arms, and he spreads his knees on the mattress as he slowly begins to ride me. He closes his eyes, as if to block me out, his body unable to be slow and tender. He needs the release, not the intimacy.
I bring my legs up. Is he thinking about him?
Does he feel guilty for fucking me?
My eyes fill with tears, and when he sees them, something changes in his demeanour.
A feeling runs between us. Animosity.
He slams in hard, and I wince.
He’s angry, and I scrunch up my face as he gives it to me hard.
He’s angry that I’m making him do this… that he has to go through with the betrayal.
I scrunch my eyes shut as he fucks me. There’s no emotion. There’s no love.
He’s shut down-blocked me out. He’s thinking about someone else.
This is a seminal transfusion.
He slams me one, two, three times, and he holds himself deep.
“Come.” He winces, as if in pain.
I clench down hard, but there’s no chance of coming. This is breaking my fucking heart.
How could I possibly be aroused?
He hisses and holds himself deep. I feel the telling jerk of his cock from his orgasm.
He moves slowly as he completely empties himself, and I stare up at him through my tears.
It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.
He rolls off me and puts the back of his forearm over his face as he lies on his back.
That felt wrong to him too. He’s rattled.
What just happened? How could a love that was so beautiful become so cold?
So hurtful.
“I’ve got to go to work.” He gets out of bed in a rush.
I close my eyes, unable to even look at him. This cut gets deeper every day.
I don’t know how to save us.
* * *
I walk out into the courtyard at work. It’s now 10:50 a. m., and I know Nathan should be in between appointments. I dial his number.
“Hello,” he answers.
“Hi.” I can’t even hear his voice without tearing up. I’m an emotional fucking wreck here. “I just, um…” My voice trails off.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I don’t even want to tell him, but I know I have to. “My period arrived.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I frown as I wait for his answer.
“Did you hear me?” I whisper.
Silence.
“Nathan?”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” he says, devoid of emotion.
I frown, what does that mean? Is he happy, sad?
“I’ve got to go,” he says.
“Okay.”
He hangs on the line, and I close my eyes. I can’t take this. I can’t stand losing my best friend. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Nobody should have to bear this pain.
“I finish early today. I’ll pick you up from work,” he says.
I smile, hopeful that this is an olive branch. “Yes, alright.”
I go back to work, and my brain starts to tick over and over the last few days.
Robert. His coldness.