Come To Me | Jerrie

Chapter 2

~Three months later~

"Ever wonder what makes these people think they're going to find love on these stupid reality shows?" Leigh-Anne asks as she plops on the couch next to me.

We're watching another episode of this show where random women try to find their one true love through a series of dates with multiple people.

"No. But maybe we should sign up since the traditional route isn't working so much." I laugh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

It's a three-day weekend and we've been lazy, drinking wine and watching trashy television and movies. After spending the first month post-breakup wallowing, Leigh-Anne put her foot down and forced me to function outside of work. I believed my life was just beginning and there was a happily ever after in sight, but I should've known better. This is real life: there is no prince charming, and I'm definitely not a princess. No more illusions of fairy-tale endings. He's gone, and I'm alone.

"Could you imagine? All these girls are hot too. They're dumb, but at least they're pretty. Your company should represent them."

"I don't represent celebrities, Leigh. You know that. I like being a publicist in the business world. Way less drama dealing with companies versus people." She tries to snatch the ice cream but I move it out of her grasp. "Can we change the channel? Let's watch something about blowing people up, or shooting people! I have no desire to watch people fall in love. I'd rather pretend everyone's miserable like me," I say, grabbing for the remote as my phone vibrates with a text.

Leigh-Anne slaps my hand. "Don't change the channel. I want to see her cry and be all sad when he picks the other idiot."

"You don't want to watch the other girl be happy?"

"Are you crazy? This is better than watching someone get blown up!" Leigh sits up, animated and excited. "She's going to be all 'I thought what we had was real.' We can change it after the first girl gets dumped." She looks down at the phone and her jaw falls slack. "Zayn's still texting you?"

"If so many people didn't have my number for work purposes, I'd change it." I groan and grab the phone.

For two weeks after he chose another woman, I didn't hear a word from him. Then I started getting periodic text messages. Initially I thought he was concerned, considering he broke my heart and ran over it a few times with an eighteen-wheeler. However, I figured out pretty quickly that he wanted something. His texts were usually about issues with cancelling wedding vendors. But lately, his texting has become more frequent and has focused on us exchanging belongings.

Zayn: I have a few things I found of yours. Also, I think I left some stuff at your place.

I'm sure he did, but a few weeks after I found him and Gigi together, I burned it. I took everything and anything I could find of his and set it on fire.

At first, I wanted to hold on to anything that was his. Even with how our breakup happened, I loved him. A part of me hoped we could reconnect, find a way to get past everything and move forward. But he never called. I held on to the false ideas of what our life was like-how we loved once and how wonderful he had been. All of those memories I latched on to so tight, hoping if I squeezed hard enough, they'd be enough. But they weren't.

"You know none of this is your fault, right? He did all of this," Leigh-Anne says while snatching the ice cream from my grasp.

"I know, I know. I want to stop thinking about him and move on, but he was my life for four years. I hate him so much, but then there's this small piece of me that won't let go."