“You know I asked Micky to marry me, right?”

Oh god, I cannot have this conversation with him, not now.

I stay silent.

He continues, “I asked Kevin, her dad, I asked his permission before I did it.”

“So?” I bite out, because I don’t know where this conversation is going but I hate that we’re having it. “She said no, right?”

“Yeah, she did. That’s not the point I’m trying to make so quit being a jerk and let me finish.”

So I do.

“Kevin, he was a really good guy. He loved his girls more than anything. My dad, he’s kind of a prick, he’s one of those dads you’re always trying to impress, you know? Like nothing you do is ever good enough.”

I remember his dad from the funeral. I get it.

“Anyway, Kevin, he was different, always accepted you. His girls could have been or done anything and he would always love and encourage them.”

I wait for him to go on.

“Shit, what I’m trying to say is that, when I asked him for permission, he kind of just looked at me strange for a few seconds, I swear I thought he was going to say no. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘James, she’s 18, I can’t stop you. I think it’s a little young, but I was 18 when I met Denise, so I can’t talk. I’m sure you will both make the right decision and she’ll learn to love you as a husband.’”

He clears his throat.

“I was so fucking happy he was okay with it, I didn’t even think about what he said until later. That she would ‘learn’ to love me as a husband.” He pauses for a bit, thinking about his next words.

“I get it now, Jake, what he meant. She shouldn’t have to learn to love me like that, she just should. And somehow, Kevin knew that she didn’t. And now I see… I see it, the way she is with you, the way she looks at you, that’s how it should have been. Like you’re the only one. You’re it, Jake. You’re all of it. Her forever.”

Chapter 47

*Mikayla*

I call Lucy to pick me up from the hotel and take me home. I didn’t hear from Jake. No phone calls. I even made sure it was fully charged. Nothing.

I think we’re done.

When we pull into my driveway, Logan's car is there, and he’s leaning against it.

“Asshole,” Lucy greets with a head nod.

“Kinky Hornbag,” he replies, but she’s already reversing out the driveway.

“Where were you?” he asks me.

“Long story, how is he?”

“Who?”

“Jake.”

“What? I don’t know.”

“Oh.” I thought for sure Jake would be with him.

“What about Jake?” he asks, eyeing me curiously.

“Um, nothing. What’s up? What are you doing here?”

I’m not looking at him, but I can feel him watching me.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, so after a few seconds I look up at him.

He’s still watching.

So, we stand there.

For seconds, minutes, hours… who knows.

Watching each other.

Waiting for one of us to talk first.

Then finally, he breaks.

“My friends mom is selling her car, it’s in your budget. I thought I’d take you to look at it.” He says this like a question.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

I bring mine and Jake's overnight bags into the house and drop them just inside the front door before turning and getting into Logan's car.

***

“So I’ll pick you up on wednesday and take you there to get it, yeah?” Logan asks.

“Thanks.” I’m still quiet. I haven’t said much.

He hasn’t asked again.

It’s awkward.

Awkwardly silent.

Then a tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly.

I turn to look at him.

“I love him, Logan,” I say. Because if I can’t tell Jake, then somebody needs to know.

He looks at me before turning back to the road.

“No shit,” he deadpans.

“I think we’re done.”

He shakes his head, still looking straight ahead. “You guys will never be done.”

“He’s it for me, Jake, I mean, he was it. He was my happily ever after.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I can’t give myself to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be who I want to be with him. I can’t give him everything. I’m still broken and I need to pick up the pieces of myself and put them back together. If I give myself to him, I have to be complete. I can’t be half the person I want to be.”

He pulls over on the side of the road and turns the car off.

Then he looks at me.

For what seems like a lifetime.

“I’m sorry, Micky,” he says. I look down, because I am too. I’m so fucking sorry.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re wrong,” he continues.

My eyes dart to his.

“Jake, he saw you at your worst. He was there when your life changed and your heart shattered. He was there to help you piece some of it back together. He’s seen it all, Micky. He’s seen you at your worst and he still fell in love with you. Like, truly, the forever kind of love with you. And I’m sorry, because I think your wrong. Maybe you don’t need to be a complete person, or maybe you do. But maybe, he’s it. Maybe he’s the other half of you.”

Chapter 48

*Mikayla*

When we get back to the house, Jake's truck is in the driveway.

I’m fumbling to open the door and get out before the car’s come to a complete stop. I rush to open the front door because I really, really need to see him. I need to tell him that I love him and that I need to be with him. Like, be with him.

“Jake!” I call out.

“In here!”

“Where?” I’ve stopped just inside the front door, trying to listen for where he’s calling from.

“Here!”

I walk down the hall way and look in the study, he’s not there, then I look into my room.

And he’s there.

And the world around me goes black.

People talk about heartbreak like it’s a figure of speech. But the truth is, it is physically possible. Because I feel it. I feel every single excruciating bit of pain that comes with it. And I feel like I’ve died.

But I haven’t. I’m still breathing.

In what could have been seconds of me standing in the doorway to my room, literally felt like a fucking lifetime.

But I’m not dead. I just haven’t opened my eyes. Because when I do, I’ll see the one thing I never ever wanted to see.

I take two deep breaths in and out and count to ten in my head.

When I open my eyes, I see my room.

The bed has been stripped, my comforter and baby blanket are gone. Cardboard boxes splayed throughout the room, some empty, some filled with my belongings.

Jake has my dresser drawer open and he’s packing one of the boxes with my clothes.

It’s over.

He wants me out.

Gone.

From his house and his life.

And were done.

My legs start to give out, so I take all the energy I have left and I sit on the edge of the bed.

I don’t look at him. I can’t see him.