Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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"Need a beer?" Mitchell shouts from the kitchen. I hold up my freshly poured glass of scotch and shake it so he can hear the ice ting against the glass. He closes the sliding door behind him and sits down next to me, sighing as he rests his back against the cushioned patio chair. "Where's the Mrs.?"
I laugh at his use of words. "She's with Jo and Hannah."
"No wonder you asked me to hang out."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't think I haven't noticed that you've turned me down every time I've asked you to hang out lately, or that I haven't heard her voice in the background when we're on the phone. 'Baby, Love Island is starting! Baby, did you remember to get tampons? You're so fucking busted."
I shrug, not giving two shits if Mitchell thinks I'm whipped. "Sorry not sorry."
He snorts a laugh and takes a sip of his beer. "So, how was LA?"
It's been almost two weeks since Delaney and I got back from our trip, and I've spent nearly every waking moment with her. I dropped her off at home, and we spent Sunday apart, but I'm so God damn drawn to her it's impossible to stay away. I texted her and asked if she'd crack her window so I could sneak in – the way I used to when we were teenagers – but she said no, only for her to show up on my doorstep with an overnight bag in her hand.
We've spent every night together since. My home is now hers.
But Mitchell's question isn't about Delaney and me. It's about how I handled everything, and I'd be a liar if I said it was smooth sailing. I was apprehensive at first. I was afraid of what being back in that atmosphere feel like. Would they ask me why I left? Would I be shunned by the people I once considered friends? I had a panic attack in the shower the day of the ESPYS, so bad I had to sit on the floor and tuck my head between my legs while I did the exercises my therapist taught me, but Delaney kept telling me she couldn't wait to see me in my element, so I couldn't tell her how terrified I was.
Somehow, I think she knew anyway.
When I asked her to go, I meant it when I said I wanted to get her out of South Grove. This town felt like a prison when she first got home, and I'm not naïve enough to think it still doesn't sometimes, so I thought a change of scenery would be good for her. The thought of sharing a hotel room – a bed – was also an incentive, but I decided to keep that tidbit to myself. At the end of the day, no matter the reason, I just wanted her with me.
I always want her with me.
My intentions weren't entirely pure. Yeah, I asked her to go because I never want to be away from her, but I also invited her because I thought she'd be a good distraction – and she was. With her warm hand in mine, and a gentle squeeze whenever she sensed I was feeling overwhelmed, I was able to breathe and enjoy myself in a place I thought I never wanted to be again. Not only did she help me get through the show, but she also helped me deal with my past and accept the fact that I've let it control me for far too long. I've let it hurt the people I love, and push everyone I care about away.
