The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (24 page)

I notice when I wake up that my hair is still damp from the shower I took earlier. I usually blow-dry it; I don
’
t like the weight of it when it
’
s wet or the way it makes the back of whatever shirt I
’
m wearing stick to me. Today, though, I can
’
t bring myself to care. Worse, even, I fell asleep before it had a chance to dry. I forgot how long it takes my thick head of hair to dry when I let it do so all on its own.

I look at the clock on my nightstand. 5:30. I wonder what Beckham is doing. Thinking about him makes my eyes fill with tears. I
’
ve never been so confused about the status of our relationship and the rules by which I should abide. I understand that we
’
re not together right now and that we
’
re friends
—
but I don
’
t know how to separate Beckham as
friend
from Beckham as
boyfriend.
Is it okay for me to text him? Or what about a phone call? Would it be inappropriate to just drop by his apartment to check on him and say hi?

I don
’
t know the answers to any of these questions; so while I miss him terribly, I do nothing about it. I don
’
t call, text, or visit
…
and neither does he. Does that mean he
’
s just as confused as I am? Or maybe he
’
s just giving me space to deal. Perhaps he
’
s the one who needs the space and he doesn
’
t wish to talk to me right now
—
he is the one who called for our separation, after all.

I moan as I sit up. My stomach growls, reminding me of my blatant neglect of supplying sustenance to keep it satisfied. I look over at my nightstand again and reach for a homemade brownie
—
the only thing I
’
ve eaten in the past couple of days.

When I woke up Sunday night, I was all alone. It broke my heart that Beckham left without saying goodbye. At the same time, though, it was probably better for both of us that he didn
’
t. The situation was already bad enough as it was without actually having to say
goodbye
to our relationship as we knew it. But whether we spoke the words or not, the absence of him brought forth more tears. I could barely think straight; it all happened so fast and there were too many thoughts for me to process. The weight of the whole situation was so overwhelming that all I could do was cry.

At some point, Avery knocked on my door to check on me. When she peeked her head in and found me inconsolable, she crawled into bed with me and held me. Her arms weren
’
t the ones that I longed to have wrapped around me, but her embrace was the only substitute I would allow. I don
’
t think I
’
ve ever loved her more than I did then. I
’
m so grateful that God saw fit to bless us with each other.

When I woke up Monday morning, she was still holding me. Sarah was with us, too. She was seated at the end of the bed and her and Avery were talking softly. When they noticed that I was awake, they asked me how I was and all I could offer was a shrug. I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I didn
’
t want to talk about it and I needed a break from crying so that
’
s all I could afford to give them. That
’
s when Sarah pointed at the plate of brownies she had made me. My stomach ached, reminding me that I hadn
’
t eaten anything since breakfast before church on Sunday. I reached for my first piece and nibbled on it while Sarah assured me that she would cover my shift at Cooper
’
s that day. I had forgotten that I was supposed to start work and was grateful that she would put in the extra time for me.

I spent all day missing Beckham. It
’
s not as if we see each other every day. Mostly, we do, because we live so close to each other, but it
’
s not always that way. It wasn
’
t really a matter of
time
that ignited my longing for him
—
it was the truth that, for the moment, we didn
’
t belong to each other. Our physical proximity hadn
’
t changed, but our emotional connection was greater than that and regardless of the fact that I had seen him the day before, I felt so far way from him knowing that we weren
’
t together anymore. My heart hurt so much that I couldn
’
t get out of bed. As I laid around all day, my thoughts became more clear; the fog that had clouded my mind on Sunday had lifted. Instead of being bogged down by tears, I was drowning in a never ending stream of questions and fears and confusion. Then the
“
what ifs
”
started piling up in my head.

What if we never get back together?

What if this separation changes us and we fall out of love?

What if
he
falls out of love and he doesn
’
t want me anymore?

What if we
’
re apart for more than a year?

What if this is the worst thing that ever happened to us?

Every once and a while, the
“
what if
”
that pops into my head isn
’
t so bad. Like,
what if this is the best thing that ever happened to us?
Or
what if this makes us love and appreciate each other more than we ever have?
But such thoughts are few and far between.

I press the heel of my hand against my eyes and try and force the tears to go away. I don
’
t want to think about the last couple days anymore. They were hard enough to endure all on their own; reliving them will not only change nothing, but it will make the rest of
today
harder to handle. I take a big bite of brownie and exhale, appreciative of the dense chocolatey goodness that awakens every tastebud in my mouth. I know that I really should eat something more nutritious
—
a banana or broccoli or something. I should probably also go to the gym. My body is practically screaming at me to pull out my yoga mat and relieve some of the stress that has tightened my muscles over the last couple of days. If I
’
m not careful, I
’
ll be fat and lonely and unrecognizable. I feel a sad smirk curling up the side of my mouth at my gross exaggeration as I continue to chew my brownie bite.

Tomorrow. I
’
ll make myself do some yoga tomorrow.
I take another chunk out of my brownie.
No promises on the veggie intake, though.

“
Hey,
”
Avery murmurs as she taps gently on my open door and steps in. She smiles at me and I notice something different about her right away.

“
Hi,
”
I say, speaking around the food in my mouth.
“
What
’
s up?
”
I ask, suspiciously.

“
You
, apparently!
”
she practically sings as she comes to sit beside me on my bed.
“
You smell better,
”
she teases.

“
Oh. Yeah. I thought a shower might be a good idea.
”

“
How are you feeling?
”
she asks, reaching over to play with my still wet hair.

My eyes well up without my permission and I instantly realize that I hate that question. I might
smell
better, but the state of my heart is unchanged and addressing it so directly is still painful.
“
Can we ban that question for a while?
”
I ask, blinking away my tears as I shove the answer to her question in the back of my mind.

“
Sure,
”
she agrees enthusiastically.

I squint at her, curious about her good mood. Not that she isn
’
t allowed to be in a good mood given that I
’
m not
—
but she
’
s been so careful around me the last couple of days that I can
’
t help but wonder what has changed.
“
You
’
re different. What
’
s going on?
”

“
I got you something,
”
she admits with bright eyes.
“
Well, I can
’
t take all the credit. It was Sonny
’
s idea.
”

Ah
—
she
’
s been with Grayson. What idea could he possibly have concerning me in my current state?
I allow my confusion to change the features of my face and she addresses my expression without delay.

“
Tomorrow, you
’
re going to rejoin the land of the living,
”
she declares.
“
I know that you
’
re sad and I know that you probably will be for a while but I
’
ve been thinking about it and I realized
—
you can
’
t get lost in here.
”
She moves her arms around, motioning around my room.
“
It
’
s really important that you stay
you
and you aren
’
t
you
without all of us.
”

“
I feel like I
’
m not me without Beckham,
”
I mutter without thinking. I shove the rest of my brownie in my mouth, hoping it will stifle my urge to start crying again.

She reaches for my hands and gives my fingers a squeeze.
“
That
’
s what I
’
m saying. Beckham isn
’
t in here
—
he
’
s out
there
; we all are.
”
She breathes out a sigh and squares her shoulders as she sits up straighter.
“
Look, I
’
m not going to sit here and tell you that I understand why Hammy needs this. I mean, his words make coherent sentences, but I
’
m not God and I can
’
t understand his heart. I know this all came as a shock to you
—
to all of us, really
—
and that it
’
s difficult for you to make sense of it as well, but I think he feels the same way
—
and isn
’
t that proof that Hammy needs some alone time to sort things out?
”

I shake my head and shrug. Her question frustrates me. It
’
s complicated and I don
’
t know what I think. She, apparently, doesn
’
t really need my answer.
“
The thing is, while he
’
s busy working on himself, you have to take care of yourself, too. If you don
’
t, he might not be able to find his way back to you.
”

I didn
’
t really have words to give to her before
—
but now I
’
m even more speechless.
When did she have time to think about this? How has she managed to wrap her head around this situation so completely? Where did she get this wisdom? And does she really think I
’
m on the brink of losing myself? It
’
s been two days
—
“
It
’
s been two days, Ave. I
’
m just trying to get my bearings.
”