And that’s the thing about time. If we could stop it, just for a moment, we would have enough time to experience all the things our hearts desire. I always imagine how different life could be if we could catalogue our memories and experiences, and with just one click of a button, be transported in time to that memory. Like the first time a boy leans in and kisses your lips, or the moment when your parents buy you tickets to your first concert and you’re in the crowd holding up a sign for Bon Jovi to marry you. If only he read that sign.

Then there’s that moment when the man you love gets down on one knee and promises you a lifetime of memories that begin with the shining diamond that sits in that little velvet box. And in that moment, you’re sitting on cloud nine, about to embark on the most joyous journey with the man that wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

But out of all these moments, there is no greater moment than seeing the face of your child for the very first time. The first time they are placed in your arms and the world officially stops as you are introduced to this tiny human being that grew inside you for nine months.

These memories, all of them, are moments to be cherished.

Then there are moments that you wish you could fast-forward, place in a vault, and throw into the deepest end of the ocean.

This is me, now.

The way Haden ended things between us left me deeply depressed and made me question everything I thought I knew about myself. In my life, I had never before experienced all the emotions that I have had in the past forty eight hours. At first I was livid. How dare he think or say the things he said! If he listened, just for a second, he would have been able to hear what I was trying to say and possibly understand my fears and trepidation. But the Jerk threw himself into another one of his immature tantrums, leaving me no choice but to let whatever it was between us go. I love Masen, more than life itself, and Haden marrying Eloise has already turned me into this bitter, toxic, ugly person who I never wanted to be.

I don’t want that person around my son.

And why?

Because I fucking love him, and it hurts like hell.

Knowing that someone you love doesn’t love you back is one of the most painful things in life. It tears you into pieces and you believe there is no way to recover. Your mind tells you that you must be damaged goods, because if that one person you loved couldn’t love you back, then no one else could possibly love you either.

The next journey on this painful ride is denial. After figuring out that he is indeed the biggest jerk to walk this planet, I refused to acknowledge that he exists. Yeah, it’s the good ol’ sweep-it-under-the-rug scenario, which is what I should have done in the first place rather than fall in love with someone like him. He can kiss me where the sun don’t shine.

Oh, but if he did kiss me where the sun don’t shine, Kitty would be in Kitty heaven and I would be back on cloud nine, lying there and demanding so much more than some ass kissing.

Another thing. Don’t let your broken heart even THINK about the man you love (who doesn’t love you back) in any sexual way or form. That’s just a recipe for torture.

Kate, as always, proves to be a great distraction during what I call the ‘I wish the Jerk never existed’ phase.

“You don’t have to go,” she reminds me for the millionth time today.

I continue to pack my box of shoes, all the while wondering how I accumulated so much. Geez, I don’t want to throw the term ‘Shoe Whore’ around, but it’s difficult not to. Especially when I realize I have the same pair of pumps in three different colors. When did I really think I would wear the crimson pair?

“Los Angeles is great, don’t get me wrong, but aren’t you going to miss the city?””

Closing the box, I pull the tape across the top and stick on a label marked, “Shoes—FRAGILE.” There, done.

“I’m done here. I miss my sister. The open spaces and sun will be a welcoming change. California has some great schools that Masen can attend,” I state, matter-of-factly.

“I can’t argue that. I’m from England, and anywhere there’s sun, I’m there faster than you can say the word sunburnt.”

I shake my head, giggling at her comment. Kate is awfully pale and I can only imagine what the California sun could do to her delicate skin. Nevertheless, she is gorgeous the way she is.

“You’re beautiful,” I add, smiling at her.

She places the tape aside and jumps up, almost knocking me down as we hug it out. For someone who has only been in my life for such a short time, she’s had a big impact. She is that person you can always rely on—no matter what. A selfless human being who genuinely cares for the people that surround her. I consider myself lucky to have met her and hope the distance won’t affect our friendship. But then again, why should it? A true friend doesn’t need to see you or talk to you every day. You know they’ll be there whenever you need them. Kate is and will forever be a person I consider a good friend.

“I’m going to miss you. I loved having you as a roomie. And lil’ Mase…” She trails off, letting go of me and picking him up from his crib. She’s visibly upset, having grown so fond of him during our short stay together. Kate isn’t one to cry, but her eyes begin to swell and I could swear I heard a slight sniffle.

“It’s only a plane ride away. And you yourself said you visit L.A. often,” I remind her softy.

“I know…just gotta get used to not seeing this little chubber every day.”

Smiling back at Kate, I watch as she gently sways Masen. It’s sad to go, but it’s all in Masen’s best interest. I constantly have to drum that into my stubborn head. It doesn’t matter what I want.

But that all soon falls apart.

The next night, I wake up sweating profusely, my lungs feeling like they have been punctured, not allowing me to breathe. Panicky and dripping in cold sweat, I clutch my chest, certain I’m having a heart attack.

I’m thirty-two. The likelihood of that happening is slim. The panic subsides and the reality of being alone in this big bed hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’m suffering from what they call a broken heart.

I have all the symptoms. The aching heart, the lack of appetite. No song can play in the background without causing me a complete meltdown.

On day four, it officially hits. Physically my heart is aching, and the stream of tears flows evenly, escalating in loud sobs. Not wanting to wake up Masen or Kate, I grab the pillow and shove it onto my face. The pain is unbearable. Several times I have contemplated calling and telling him to come over. I miss him so much, and the thought of being on the other side of the country has left me torn in my decision.

I miss his smell. That masculine scent that drives my senses wild. I miss the way his eyebrows do that thing every time his face breaks into a smile. But most of all, I miss the way he watches over Masen with unconditional love. The adoration in that one stare made me realize that no other man could love Masen as much as he does.

I am out of my mind, clearly not thinking straight.

Then I do that awful stalker thing. I check his Facebook and Twitter, but he hasn’t a posted a thing. Immediately afterwards, I regret looking at pictures of him. How can one human being be so beautiful, yet tear every inch of your soul to pieces at the same time?

In the light of day, with the sun peering through my curtains, the world seems entirely different. My eyes were puffy and sore from my cry-fest. Last night feels like a big blur now, yet the pain still lingers. It only reminds me that there are many sleepless nights to come.

After all, this is only the beginning.

Liz is coming over later to take Masen out for a couple of hours so I can run some last minute errands. Since Masen is still fast asleep, I shower quickly and dress in my jeans with a grey knitted jumper. Makeup is mandatory; I have to cover up the bags under my eyes. My hair never cooperates, so I settle for running some product through it and leaving it down. All dressed and ready for the day, I change Masen and feed him, then finish packing his bag.