Dear Journal

April 2nd

Dear Journal,

Her flight landed while I was in a meeting.

Carla is holding down the fort. I must look like a madman to her. One of the interns even wished me luck.

Its official: I'm pathetic. But sue me, I'm a man who is hopelessly in love.

I couldn't wait any longer. I had to see May, to talk to her, to make things right. My therapist always emphasizes healthy boundaries in relationships, but it felt impossible to have boundaries when we weren't even properly together. I was prepared for anything: to leave with my heart intact or shattered.

As I stood outside her building, waiting to be buzzed in, my ex stepped out of the elevator. We exchanged barbed words—she remarked that this place didn't suit someone obsessed with wealth like her. I shot back that she should thank me, and she rolled her eyes before leaving.

I went up to May's apartment and knocked. She opened the door, yelling about tearing my ex's fake extensions off if she didn't stop bothering her. (God, I love this woman.) She froze when she saw me.

It was clear she'd been crying, and she looked more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her.

Before she could tell me to leave, I stepped inside and pulled her into a hug. She struggled at first, but I held on, telling her these past few days had been unbearable and that I couldn't go back to my life without her in it. She stopped resisting and started crying again. I kissed her head, waiting for her to calm down.

She told me that my ex had been bothering her, threatening to drop out of the show and take other models with her to Tesoro. I felt a surge of fury but pushed it aside. I needed to be calm for May. I asked if she was okay, and she cried harder, apologizing for comparing me to James. She said I was ten times—no, a hundred times—the man he could ever be.

My chest swelled at her words, and I apologized for being clingy and overprotective. For the first time, I told her I loved her truly and that she would always be my priority. She hugged me tightly, saying she'd never been put first before. It was easier to push me away than to figure out how to fix things.

My heart broke for her.

She's already apologised enough and I've forgiven her.

I think we're even.

I kissed her, and it felt right, like everything was finally falling into place.

We stood there for a while, holding each other. The tension, the fear, the anger—it all melted away in that moment. I knew we still had a lot to work through, but for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. I felt like we could really make this work.

I closed the door and slipped off my jacket, letting the expensive garment fall to the floor. I didn't care, I needed her.

It's been so terribly lonely and May let me peel her clothes off, layer by layer. I made sure my lips touched every part of her gorgeous body, her breasts, her stomach that she was insecure about, the back of her knees and between her legs where she was so wet. I set her down on the kitchen counter, spread her long legs, and put my tounge and fingers to good use.

The sounds she made when I curled my fingers inside of her will forever be engraved in my memory. She's so loud even though she tried not to be. I held her hips, holding her in place as I made her cum. Her hands were in my hair, tugging on the strands as she arched her back. She tasted as sweet as she looked.

We've had sex before but this is the first time it's ever so animalistic and needy.

I'll shorten this steamy evening because if I wrote every single detail that happened, I'd have to burn this journal.

I fucked her in the kitchen. She blew me on the couch. I tossed her on her bed and made her come again with my fingers. Then she wrapped her hand around me as she whispered the filthiest things into my ears.

I think I understand the appeal of make up sex.

Much to do,

- Alexander