Page 137 of The Storm

The nausea hits like a freight train. The possibility crashes through me hard enough to make me feel off balance. Suddenly my throat is painfully dry, and my heart is beating sickeningly fast.

And then, when everything really sinks in, it hurts like that first look at his empty room all those years ago. It hurts likeI’m once again standing in that doorway, trying to understand what’s happening, trying to stay in denial.He just needs a moment. He’s coming back. He has to. He loves me. I love him.

He’s coming back.

That certainty lived inside me for months after he left. It sat stubbornly in my chest and refused to die no matter how much time passed.

I carried it with me like something sacred.

He just needs time.

He’s angry.

He’s hurt.

But he loves me.

People do not love each other the way we love each other and then just disappear without a word for good.

Because how was it possible he didn’t feel it? That aching absence that had taken up residence inside my chest. The emptiness that never disappeared or even eased. The feeling of being hollowed out. Like I was only a shell.

The panic once I realized his room had stopped smelling like him.

The slow, painful realization that every single day I waited for him to come back to me was also a day he chose not to.

And now…

Seems he did come back.

Just not for me.

Six years is a long time, a small, harsh voice tells me. Entire relationships happen in six years. That’s plenty of time to fall in love, move in together, build a life.

It’s enough time to get over somebody. Plenty of time.

My eyes fly between the two of them, mind filling in the blanks and imagining a whole life right here and now. This is the kitchen where Nick cooks for this dude. This is their living room. This is the couch where they cuddle together while watchingmovies. This is the dining table where they host friends and family.

I’ve imagined him coming back to me countless times over the years, in countless ways.

And yet, somehow, I never consideredthis. Him coming back to me, only not at all.

Something hot crawls up my throat and prevents me from breathing. I try to shake it off. I try so fucking hard to get over myself.

Jealousy is a deeply embarrassing emotion. It strips you down to nothing. It reminds you thatyou’renot good enough. It brings forward your worst instincts.

He’s attractive. Of course he is.

A few years older than me, maybe. Golden-brown hair. Hazel eyes. A friendly smile.

I want to run. I want to run far, far away from here.

“India and Bridget talk about you a lot,” the guy says. “I’m Callum.”

He’s met them. Of course he has.

At first those words don’t really even register. I shake my head to try and clear it at least a little bit. All the pieces start to click together embarrassingly slowly. Callum. I was supposed to work for a Callum.

I glare at Nick. “Seriously?” I say. Why the hell did he bring me here? He doesn’t need to parade me in front of this dude to really ram it home that firing me was an excellent choice. He doesn’t need to show me he’s found someone… better.