The coward in me began adding up just how many things I could buy at the dollar store, but I knew I needed to face my fate.
I'd made this decision.
I'd done exactly what Ryan had predicted I'd do, and now I needed to own up to that.
He'd said he wanted me to give this life a chance, and so here I was, doing exactly what he'd asked. I only hoped he'd meant what he said.
God, I was the biggest asshole on the planet.
I don't know how long I spent on the side of the road, looking up at our apartment building. Even though I'd gathered up the courage to come, I'd still chosen a time of day when I knew he most likely wouldn't be home.
I told myself I was doing him a favor-saving him from the grief of having to see me.
But I knew that was a lie.
It was me I was saving. I didn't want the pain of seeing him, because I knew as soon as I set my eyes on him, the wave of guilt and remorse I'd been keeping at bay for everything I'd done over the last two days would come rushing back.
And then where would I be?
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and walked briskly across the street, keeping my head low to avoid any possible run-ins with neighbors. All I needed was one unnecessary conversation about how wedding plans were going or where our honeymoon was going to be.
Just the thought had me nearly turning around with my tail between my legs. But I marched forward and made it inside without a nosy neighbor in sight. I took the stairs as an extra precaution. No one ever took the stairs. Except for the few health nuts who jogged early in the mornings, we were all slaves to the elevator, and after two floors of climbing … I knew exactly why. Walking up stairs was exhausting.
Also, I apparently needed to work out more.
Something to ponder for another day.
Successfully making it to the fourth floor, I walked down the hallway to our apartment and fished out my keys. With a shaky hand, I unlocked the door and nearly fell in due to my rubbery legs. The stairs combined with my nerves … bad combination.
Standing in the entryway, I listened carefully for any noise. Nothing.
I was alone.
Everything looked exactly the same. Our lives had completely combusted but this little apartment had stayed the same, like a little bubble.
A bubble I was about to pop.
I took a moment to walk around, running my fingers over the soft fuzzy blanket that hung over the back of the sofa. It reminded me of a teddy bear, so plush and velvety smooth. I'd loved snuggling under it on lazy mornings with a good book and an even better cup of a coffee. Ryan and I had made many memories under that blanket as well, I recalled, remembering the many nights we'd fallen asleep under it rather than making the trip to the bedroom.
It had been such an easy life to live. Ryan might think I'd been hard to win over, but it had been him who was hard to resist. After August, I'd sworn off love-sworn off men. They caused me harm and were too dangerous to trust. But then in had walked Ryan-the complete opposite of August. He was sweet, gentle, and patient, and soon I began to see a new path-one that was so easy to imagine. Loving Ryan had been simple and safe.
And perhaps that was the root of the problem.
Maybe love wasn't supposed to be safe.
Maybe it was supposed to be crazy and full of risks.
Yet as I wandered through that apartment, with its little touches we'd done over the year we'd been there, part of me knew I would always still crave the simple and the safe. A part of me would always crave Ryan.
Knowing I'd wasted enough time, I began packing quickly, stuffing as many things as I could into the few suitcases I could claim as my own. I didn't bother folding or organizing anything-everything was just thrown in and would be dealt with later. Running into the bathroom, I grabbed my toothbrush and shampoo from the shower.
The bottle was still wet.
How long ago had he been here?
Seeing the water drip down the sides of the shampoo bottle had me remembering the way he smelled. Like me-he always smelled like my strawberry shampoo because he was too scatterbrained to run out and get his own. I used to make jokes and ask what he'd done before I was around and he'd laugh and hold up a bar of soap.
Looking down at the bottle, I took a deep breath and placed it back in the shower.
I could get more.
Turning back around, I picked up a couple other things and stepped back into the bedroom, placing them in the suitcase before returning to the closet.
"I figured you'd be coming back soon."
I swiveled around. Ryan was standing in the doorway looking down at me in the closet. His hair was messier than I'd ever seen and his eyes looked lost and tired.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I tried to come while you were at work."
"I took the day off," he admitted. "Been a little off my game."
I stood facing him but had trouble looking him in the eye. The way he looked … the fact that he was missing work-all because of me.
"I hate this, Ryan," I stated. "I wish we could go back to the way it was."
"We always knew this could happen, Ev. He would have woken up eventually. I was just the fool who thought I was enough to help you move past him. But you need to figure that out on your own."
I took a step forward, tears rimming my eyes, but stopped myself. "Ryan, please don't think that. This was never about you or him. It's always been about me. There are so many issues-feelings I pushed aside when he went into that coma. A coma is not a way to end a relationship-no matter how turbulent it may be."
"And now you need time. I understand."
Silence settled between us before he continued, taking a hesitant step forward. "But let me make one thing clear. I may have stepped aside, but by no means am I bowing out. I'll wait, Everly-for however long it takes for you to realize I'm the one."
"Ryan-"
"No, let me finish. You may need time. Time to work out whatever unresolved feelings you have for him, but he'll never be good enough for you-no matter how much he's changed."
"You don't know that," I countered.
"I do. He's hurt you before. He'll do it again."
Shaking my head, I began zipping up bags and swinging them over my shoulder with force. "I'm sorry I've hurt you, Ryan. You don't know how truly sorry I am, but please don't make this harder than it already is."
I needed out.
"Still running, I see. Well, at least some things haven't changed."
He was right. I was still running, but at least this time I knew where I was going.
Stopping just shy of the door, I turned to face him. Wrapping my fingers around the slim gold ring that I'd thought would be there until the day I died, I pulled it off and placed it on the table.
"Good-bye, Ryan."
His light brown eyes were the last thing I saw as I turned to walk out of the apartment we'd shared-the home we'd built together.
The simple life I'd left behind.
God, I hope I was making the right choice.
"So, this is called a pan … and this large square-looking thing is called a stove. You can cook more than just eggs on it."
August eyed me suspiciously as I placed the pan on the stove and turned the knob to raise the heat.
"Please tell me you actually cooked those eggs on the stove?" I asked, as his eyes darted to the microwave.
"You microwaved them?" I asked incredulously, my hands going to my hips.
"Well, I mean-it worked, didn't it?"
"I have no words. Seriously. No words. This is going to be harder than I thought."
"For a women of no words-you sure are talking a lot," he joked.
"Shut it," I laughed, slapping his arm as I moved toward the refrigerator.
"Have you used the stove at all?" I asked, pulling open the monstrous refrigerator in search of ideas. I had plans of making some sort of pasta, but I needed ingredients. I found a block of cheese and some shaved ham I assumed he'd been using for lunchmeat. Moving to the freezer, I found a bag of frozen peas, which could work.
"Okay, we're going to make dinner. Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he laughed, his hazel eyes flashing green with amusement.
"Just put this down as one of those new life experiences you're always wanting, okay?"
"For some reason, I somehow already know I'm going to hate cooking. Just call it a sixth sense."
I shook my head and laughed. He'd always been scared of the kitchen. It was why I'd grown so found of it in the first place. When we first moved in together, I quickly realized neither of us knew our way around the kitchen, much less a box of ramen. After several failed attempts to make meals together, I took the lead, teaching myself during my free time how to prepare simple dishes that were low cost and filling.
Later, when budget was no longer a concern, I branched out and began experimenting more with fancier ingredients and more intricate recipes. August was always proud of me and loved the food I produced.
At least until the end-when he was too busy to care about anything.