In the Interlude

Chapter 49 - The Last Straw

Getting over a person takes half the time you were together. That's what he had read anyway. He didn't remember when or where. But Tom remembered the math and had clung to the milestone like a sailor watching for the lighthouse beacons through a storm.

They had been apart for fifty-six days now. More than half the time they had come to know each other. He had counted the days.

It had also been that long since he had last spoken to her. It wasn't from the lack of trying. No. He had pulled up her number on his phone more times than he cared to remember, but never managed to bring himself to press the call button.

And what would he even tell her?

That he was still desperately and hopelessly in love with her but that he couldn't forgive her for leaving him over some stupid online gossip?

That she was a coward for having so little faith in him, in them?

That he was tired, so very tired of her occupying his thoughts and dreams?

And then it happened.

A text from her.

On a warm and moonless night, end of August.

And the irony in all this? He missed the text. Didn't see it until later, much much later.

Tom was just back from Florence and meeting, later in the day, his mates for a few drinks.

Paul was up to his neck with wedding preparations and rather happy to be so. He babbled about venues and flower arrangements and bands and hors d'oeuvres.

"So, Tommy boy," asked Paul, happy hour laughter and chatter ringing through the beer garden, "are you bringing a plus one with you? You haven't said."

Tom, halfway through beer number three, looked up at his friend. "It seems not."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Tom was silent for a moment. "There's nothing really to talk about," he finally said. He took another swig of his beer and added, "she decided one day that whatever we had, was not worth it. And she just left, bolted as fast as the wind." He shrugged, annoyed at himself for revealing too much.

Cavill was the self-proclaimed eternal bachelor of the trio, but he could recognise a broken-heart when he saw one. And Tom had all the bearings. "So," he cleared his throat, "when you say she left, you mean literally? As in she was living with you?"

"Not quite. She was in London for work and was staying with me. She lived, well she lives in Paris."

His friends looked at each other while Tom averted his attention to the waitress, trying to get another round of beers.

"Hah, a long-distance relationship," Paul stated. It was not a question. "That's a formidable challenge on its own, mate. And with your schedule and commitments? I don't know how you could have made that work."

Tom didn't answer, focusing on emptying his fourth beer as quickly as possible, as if he was in a race against himself. What could he tell them? That he had wanted nothing more than the chance to review his commitments and rearrange his schedule for her? Anyway, she was no longer there, and he was trying to move forward with his life. His friends had no idea how hard it had been on him the last couple of months. Why can't they talk about something else, for heaven's sake?

Cavill finally broke the awkward silence. "You know what? There's nothing better than a wedding to hook up with single women who don't want to be single anymore!"

Paul rolled his eyes.

"I know," added Cavill, holding his palms up, "bridesmaids are off limits."