I stared at the computer, lost in thought.I had only four articles to edit, but I couldn’t focus for shit, and therefore, I had gotten through approximately three paragraphs…in an hour and a half.
I wasn’t forlorn or angsty or depressed as much as I was vacillating between feeling like a completely confused Grade A Idiot and feeling a little self-loathing.
I sighed as Lauren Mallory’s voice floated over to me from the doorway of my cubical. “Bella? Got a minute?”
I turned around in my swivel chair, eyebrows raised, putting on a show to make her believe that I actually gave a shit about whatever it was that she was about to say. “Yes, Lauren. What can I do for you?” I asked, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray my sheer annoyance at not only Lauren’s interruption of what was clearly going to be a very productive morning but my life in general.
She took a seat, pulling a chair around the wall from the empty station next to me, where the department-wide printer and fax machine were hooked up. “I wanted to say you did a killer job on Newton’s beetle article. Not the most entertaining material, that’s for sure, but I saw his initial draft as well as your edits and suggestions.” She paused and ran a hand through her hair. “It was much improved. You did well.”
A small grin played upon my lips. “Not the most interesting material” is fucking right, I thought to myself. “Thanks, Lauren,” is what I actually said aloud, and just as I finished, she began to speak again, almost on top of my words.
“I wanted to tell you…” Her voice faded away, and she shot a sly smirk in my direction as she stood up. “The magazine could use more arts-centric pieces,” she finished. Her right hand was curved over her hip, and I looked up at her, trying not to appear bored or focused on her nose job.
I nodded. “Great. Thank you,” I said with a full-blown smile that I pulled from God-knows-where.
She wiggled her fingers at me and then walked away, and I turned back to my computer.
It wasn’t that I didn’t understand what she was trying to tell me. After working for Lauren Mallory for nearly two years, her message was loud and clear, despite the fact that she hadn’t come right out with it: Write an arts-centric piece, Swan. I think you’re ready.
Not even the thought of being published one day – of finally having my words in the magazine – could stave off the funk I was in.
Angling my chair to the right, I picked up my cell phone and opened my text message inbox.
Call me when you get this please.
Edward’s text still stared at me from the faceplate of my phone from three weeks ago, and I wondered how I hadn’t seen this coming.
*~*~*
The Friday after I talked to Edward, Rose, and Jessica on the phone, my lovers appeared separately, fifteen or so minutes between their arrivals. Edward had knocked lightly, a couple of minutes before they were scheduled to get there, and as usual, when I opened the door to let him in, I had been floored.
He was unfairly handsome; that was the way I decided to describe it.
That Friday, he wore a pair of tailored slacks and a navy button down, long-sleeved shirt with a striped tie. He held a jacket over his arm, folded in half, and his auburn hair was in its usual state of disarray, giving him a devil-may-care look when I knew he actually paid close attention to his appearance.
His eyes were forest green as he looked down at me from his height and handed me a bottle of wine. “Hello,” he said, and his voice was the very definition of serenity. He was happy to see me.
I smiled up at him and said, “Come on in,” as he stepped through the threshold. I closed the door and followed him into my kitchen, where he stopped and turned around, leaning his backside against the island.
“Come here,” he murmured.
I walked to him, anticipation already building in my hips as I considered that his hands would soon be on me.
He wrapped his arms around me, enclosing me in his grip in a way I hadn’t felt before – never before had he held me so closely, and it felt like heaven. Before lowering his lips to mine, he lifted his right hand from its position on the small of my back and tipped my chin upward, so that I was looking straight into his eyes. “Did you think of me last night?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that stirred my desire.
I nodded, and my voice was scarcely a whisper as I replied, “Did you think of me?”
“I did,” he said, and pressed his lips to mine, softly at first.
Quickly, our kiss evolved into something else entirely, and my hands were knotted in his hair as his tongue slipped between my lips, and I felt his fingers grip my hips as he walked with me backward. He turned us, and with our lips still connected, I felt him bend at the waist as he cupped his hands under my ass and lifted me to the counter. Once I was seated, my hands still in his hair, he pulled my hips toward him, spreading my legs around his waist as he continued exploring my mouth, and suddenly, I wished I was wearing a skirt so he could take me then and there.
We continued to kiss that way until there was a knock at the door, and when we separated, Edward growled lightly. The sound went straight to the pit of my stomach, and I whimpered quietly as I hopped down from the counter and moved to answer the door.
Rose was all smiles and hugged me lightly as she kissed my cheek in greeting. She had spinach dip and crackers, and we walked into the kitchen where I’d left Edward.
He sent a small grin to Rosalie and then moved to open the wine he’d brought as we all made quiet conversation.
That night had been…shorter than most.
Physically, things had been normal. Edward and Rose took their turns with me, each bringing me pleasure as only they could, and then we’d mimicked our position from that first night, with Edward behind me, filling me completely as I tasted Rose again.
Normally, after that, we’d shower separately and talk about whatever came up, but after I came, Edward had cited exhaustion from a long week and curled up under my blankets to fall asleep. Rose and I kissed for a few minutes, her perfect lips caressing mine gently as her hands played at my hips, and we were asleep soon after.
The next morning, I’d made breakfast, and it seemed that Edward had woken up in a foul mood. He was quiet, moody, and spoke a total of about ten words through the meal. She didn’t think I noticed, but I saw Rosalie eyeing him in worry several times.
Of course, I thought nothing of it – I grew up with an older brother, so I understood that sometimes men were just…like that - served them their breakfast, and rejoined their conversation as though everything were normal.
That day, Edward had meetings for the preliminary planning for the McIntyre property. His father, Carlisle, would be in town for the day, and their goal was to set dates for things like when the required demolition would begin, when the landscaping needed to be complete, and when they wanted to be open for residents. Rose had appointments with two clients – wealthy men of Chicago who were, as she put it, “buying a flat to keep their mistresses’ mouths shut” – and would also be unavailable all day.
With the two of them busy and Jessica’s nosiness appeased a mere two days before, I was excited to have some free time to actually think about my novel. So, I took my laptop to my balcony and typed away for the better part of three hours before breaking. All in all, it was a very productive evening. It felt good to get some of my book written; it seemed I’d been stalled for so long.
A week later, we were at Edward’s, and things were still strained.
Rose and I had arrived at the same time, and when we stepped into Edward’s condo, she seemed anxious. I saw her cast a questioning look at Edward as he poured three shots for us and then a second for himself. She drank her shot and then slammed the shooter onto the table and asked for another round. Edward had easily given in, and then looked at me carefully – for lack of a better term – as he asked if I wanted another shot as well.
I nodded and took my second shot before we moved quickly to the bedroom.
Rose undressed me as Edward watched, seated at the end of his bed. I could feel his eyes on me; there was a heat that seemed to seep into my skin when he looked at me.
Where before, our sessions had been an easy give and take, that Friday had been awkward.
It started normally enough. Rose kissed me, her hands knotted in my hair as she walked backward, heading to the mattress where Edward waited. I was enjoying the feel of her silken tongue against mine when Edward’s voice rang out, clear but quiet.
“Bella, can you do something for me?” he asked.
I pulled away from Rose, glancing over her shoulder; she moved her mouth to my throat and lightly sucked at the skin there as I gazed down at Edward, my eyebrows raised.
“Can you…I need your mouth on me. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Can you..?”
He didn’t need to finish his question. Rosalie hummed in my ear and pulled her lips away from me as I moved to kneel in front of Edward. Just hearing him say he wanted his dick in my mouth had made moisture pool in my panties, so I was happy to oblige.
“No, Bella,” he said as he reached out, his hand running lightly up my thigh. “I want you as comfortable as possible.”
He slid back on the mattress until his head was on the pillow, and I crawled up to meet him. My eyes roamed his body hungrily, still not accustomed to the perfection of his form even after weeks of being able to touch him and taste him. When I reached his legs, I pushed his knees apart, licking my lips as I saw his erection standing before me, and without any notice, I took him into my mouth.
“God, Bella,” he managed as I began to move up and down his shaft, teasing him with my tongue and stopping just short of his head grazing the back of my throat.
Suddenly, I felt Rose’s fingers curve around my thigh and then gently slide between my lips, her movements gentle as she moved them back and forth. I moaned at the sensation, and Edward groaned in response, the vibrations making his already sensitive cock even more so.
As I kept bobbing my head up and down, gently sucking as my teeth grazed his length, his hips began to buck as he fucked my mouth. My eyes were wide, cast upward as I focused on him. The sight of his lips parted, his head pressing back against the pillow as his hands fisted in the sheets was such a tantalizing treat. I loved that I could do that to him; Edward was in control at all times, and the fact that I could make him lose composure turned me on.
Rose’s fingers continued massaging me, and my wetness doubled. Tripled. My hips writhed against her hand, and I heard her moan softly as her other hand came to rest on my hip. I was so close already, my clit was swollen, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more to get me to explode. My eyes drifted closed, my hand moving to the base of Edward’s cock as I stroked him in the rhythm of my lips.
My attention was divided, Rose’s fingers making it difficult to pay as close attention to Edward as I normally did. I was licking and sucking and humming, feeling his hips buck beneath me, and I was so lost in the moment we were all sharing that I was utterly shocked when I heard his rough voice.
“Fuck!” he cursed with a groan, and I felt his release hit the back of my throat. He was salty and…perfect, but I had been expecting him to pull away when he climaxed like he always did. My hips had stilled, my eyes flying wide as I swallowed clumsily. “Goddamn it, Bella.” His voice was hoarse as his right arm moved to the pillow above his head.
I felt Rose’s hand leave me as she moved to settle onto the mattress on my right. In my peripheral vision, I saw her slide her right hand down her body.
I pulled my lips away from Edward with an audible pop and ran the back of my hand along the corner of my mouth as I murmured, “But you’ve always-”
His voice cut me off, and he sounded tired. “I know.” His sighed, his eyes closing. “I’ll…explain later.”
“Okay.” My voice was soft and quiet as I tried to absorb what he was saying, searching for some hidden meaning. I found none, and then because I wanted him to know that I appreciated him letting me taste him that way, I said, “Thank you.”
His eyes opened, focusing on mine, and they were suddenly soft. “You’re welcome,” he said. After a brief pause, he gave me a small smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”
I smiled my reply, enjoying the intimate moment I was sharing with him. After staring into the raging storm that was Edward’s eyes for a moment, I heard a soft whimper from my right and refocused on Rosalie.
She was gliding her fingers up and down her slit, her eyes closed and her forehead creased, and I shook my head. “No, baby. Let me do that,” I said softly, reaching over to lift her hand to make room for my tongue.
Edward lay there, watching us – watching me - until Rosalie came, and then, when I rolled over on my side with a lazy smile on my lips from bringing my Rose such pleasure, he slipped a condom on and crawled to my side. His hands roamed my stomach and chest, encouraging me to lie on my back before he moved to balance himself over my body. Without words, he pressed into me and, fuck, it felt good. After pleasing both him and Rose, it felt that my climax had been a long time coming – no pun intended – and it took only four thrusts before my thighs were quivering as I tightened around him, and I was writhing and moaning his name.
As we fell asleep that night, things felt just fine. I smiled as I inhaled the fragrance of Edward while my cheek pressed into his chest. His hand rubbed my arm soothingly while Rosalie’s comfortable heat radiated against my back. Her hand rested on my hip as I snuggled contentedly between the two of them.
It was only in retrospect that I realized that evening had been off-kilter.
And then, there was last Friday.
I kept replaying the way the evening had gone down in my head, and it became increasingly clear that I was some kind of idiot.
We were back at my house.
Earlier in the day, I had text messaged both Edward and Rose, telling them not to bring anything over when they arrived. I was planning to make a few appetizers and had a bevy of liquors and wines stored away in my pantry that we could make use of.
At seven o’clock on the dot, they were both standing at my door, and I wondered how the fuck I got so lucky. I was relatively certain that the two most beautiful people in the whole of Chicago were spending their Friday nights with me. I smiled at the thought as I pulled the door open and invited them inside.
The appetizers I had made sat on my kitchen island. There was homemade salsa with chips beside a queso recipe I’d picked up from Angela, who was originally from Texas. I also had a platter of slices of pound cake drizzled with lemon icing because that was Rose’s favorite. Next to it stood a bottle of Patron Silver – Edward’s favorite - and a bottle of wine just in case, though I was relatively certain we would go for the tequila.
“How was your week, Bella?” Rose asked, picking up a slice of the lemon-iced pound cake.
I shrugged. “The usual, really. Mike was a douche, Lauren was halfway decent, and that goddamned intern Riley drove me fucking crazy, following me around all over the office.”
Edward laughed lightly and said, “Aw, Bella. Give the kid a break. Maybe he’s got a crush.”
I crinkled my nose up and shook my head. “I sure hope not,” I replied, and conversation seemed to move easily after that. We talked about the developments for Cullen Real Estate’s housing project, Rose’s client meetings for that week, and a new art exhibit that was opening in a handful of days.
“We should go,” Rose suggested, fingering the cork on the wine bottle. Then her brow furrowed as she glanced away. Her gaze fell to the two bottles in front of her, and she changed the subject, saying, “I think I want tequila tonight.”
Edward simply nodded.
I grinned, glad I knew my lovers’ preferences. “I thought we might.”
I pulled three shot glasses down from my cupboard and placed them on the kitchen island in front of me. Then, I opened the tequila and poured the liquor into the small glasses and, after re-capping the bottle, slid a shot glass each to Edward and Rose.
When I lifted my eyes to meet Edward’s, I was confused.
He looked…perturbed. Just minutes before, he seemed to be relaxed and happy, and I wondered what could have shifted.
As he continued to meet my gaze, I parted my lips to ask what was wrong, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. After furrowing my brow at him, I lifted the shot glass to my lips and downed the alcohol. It burned as it slid down my throat, and I wished I had a lime to suck on. Then, I remembered that I had margarita salt and grinned as I turned around to retrieve it.
I lifted myself up onto my tiptoes and pulled it down, and after I’d closed the cabinet I turned around, a smile on my lips. I poured a second shot for myself and picked up my shot glass, careful not to spill it, as I walked over to Rosalie.
“Hi,” I said, almost shyly.
She looked from me to the shot glass and salt in my hands and smirked. Without words, she moved her hair over her shoulder so that it fell down her back in golden waves, and she angled her face away from me as I took half a step closer to her.
I licked the skin just above her collar bone and then sprinkled salt on her skin. I put the small canister of salt down, readied my shot glass, and licked her skin again, catching every grain of salt with my tongue before slamming the tequila back. I felt the heat of the alcohol spread through my chest, and Rose gave a little moan as I was swallowing. I placed a soft kiss on her lips, unable to resist, and smiled when she did.
Without further thought, I turned around, refilled my shot glass, and walked around to face Edward, who still looked strained.
I moved the dish that held the queso a few inches to the left and hopped up onto the island so that my knees were splayed around Edward’s hips again. “Come here,” I requested, pulling him to me by his belt loop.
Face-to-face with me, he seemed to lose some of whatever edge was plaguing him, and I looked away from him only to pick up the salt. When my gaze met his again, he leaned slightly closer to me, and I knotted my hands in his hair as I licked along the place where his shoulder and throat connected. I paused, inhaling deeply that exquisite fragrance that was all aftershave and Edward and just a hint of sweat that stirred desire deep within me. Before I could pull my lips away, he groaned in my ear, and I smiled.
“Just a second, baby,” I said, and watched as he swallowed hard, his eyes closing as he did so.
I sprinkled salt onto his skin, watching the tiny granules shimmer before I licked it up and felt his fingers ghost over the juncture between my legs as I did so.
When I downed my third shot of tequila, he placed his right hand on the small of my back and picked up his shot glass with his left. His eyes were intent on mine before they finally shifted to the side. He tipped the glass in Rose’s direction, and I watched them drink the amber liquid.
After that, the tension was palpable. It felt as though I would be able to cut it with a knife, so when Rose whispered, “Let’s go,” neither Edward nor I argued.
When we walked from my kitchen toward my bedroom, I noticed he looked anxious again, and Rose seemed to be staring at her feet as she walked, which was abnormal. Fleetingly, I considered asking what was wrong, but I didn’t want to make something into a big deal if it was nothing. I mean, fuck. We were about to spend a few hours enjoying each others’ bodies – what could possibly be wrong? Maybe they were both distracted by work-related problems. I knew I would do what I could to make them forget.
Once in my room, Edward removed his button down shirt and tossed it to the floor and then came to me as Rose grazed her hands over my breasts. I placed my hands on her jaw, holding her face steady as I leaned in to kiss her, and I felt Edward lift my hair as he placed a gentle kiss on the skin of my throat.
Then, for the first time ever, there seemed to be some strange awkwardness about undressing me. For the last six weeks, Edward and Rosalie had taken turns removing my clothing; it seemed they just worked in a natural rhythm with one another, and it made me feel ridiculously sexy, so I never argued. The feeling of two sets of hands – one masculine and large, the other petite and feminine – on my body, removing clothing and caressing my skin, was phenomenal, and I was certain I would never experience that sensation with anyone but them, so I relished every moment of it.
They’d never needed to communicate beyond a simple glance or a nod of the head, so when Edward and Rose both went for my jeans and their hands collided around my navel, it was comparable to a person’s natural reaction when a CD she’s listening to skips. We all froze, and our faces – all three of them – conveyed a similar look: mild annoyance. Rose pulled her hands back and allowed Edward to unbutton and unzip my pants; afterward, Edward pulled his hands away, sliding them up my back as Rose pushed my jeans downward until they were a pool of material around my legs.
I felt Edward kneel beside me, to my right, and his lips tickled their way down my arms, my side, and then he kissed my bare hip as Rosalie pulled my shirt over my head, dropping it as she kissed me on the lips, her mouth and tongue sweet and cool. As she moved her lips to nibble my earlobe, I glanced down at Edward, and again, the look of concern was on his face, and for a second, I felt sheer frustration.
If he wanted to cancel tonight because work was stressful, he should have told us, I thought.
As I stood there in my panties and bra, I was working my way to full-blown annoyance when he suddenly shot up to his full height and stepped away from me.
“I…I can’t…I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” he stammered. Before Rose or I could try to appeal to him, he yanked his shirt up from the floor and rushed from the room, leaving a feeling of frenetic worry in his wake.
A mere second later, Rose had moved slowly away from me, walking backward toward my door, and she quietly said, “I’m sorry, Bella. He’s my best friend.” She frowned as her eyes flashed real regret before she turned to follow him. Her eyes lingered, her face toward me until the last second, when her head whipped around in a flurry of blonde hair.
And with, that they were gone.
In hindsight, I realized I’m a big fucking moron for not letting myself see that Edward had been uncomfortable with our arrangement for the last month.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” he had asked, after stuttering, which was completely out of character for Edward Cullen.
And I had tried to be flippant, to divert him from actually talking about it.
I felt like an asshole for that, in retrospect. It had been our first real phone conversation, and he was trying to voice his concerns, but I’d ignored the anxiety I heard in his voice because I couldn’t handle the fact that he might want to end this three-way relationship we were in. But at the same time, shouldn’t he have manned up and told me he was wavering?
I really wanted to be pissed off, but I couldn’t initially. I knew Edward; he was thoughtful to the extreme, so if I had seemed to really want to continue, of course he would have considered his worries less important. I knew that even then, and still, I didn’t ask if he wanted to talk further.
And then there was Rosalie, who had clearly noticed something was off with her best friend over the last few weeks. As I looked back, I could see every worried look, hear every strained sentence as she spoke, trying to gauge whether he was ready to talk about it.
I felt like absolute shit for not seeing it. Perhaps a better synopsis of the last month was this: I did see but didn’t want to, so I avoided it. We Swan kids have a funny way of ignoring something if it upsets our world view, after all.
Fucking idiot.
So, there was the guilt I felt over ignoring what was now very obvious. I felt badly but was one-hundred percent sure that an apology wouldn’t work. “Oh, hey guys, sorry for being a selfish bitch because you got me off like nobody’s business, and I didn’t want that to end. Friends?”
As I sat there, my computer still for so long the screen saver had popped up, I sighed aloud.
There was no way I could be friends with Edward or Rose. Not yet. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The thought of never kissing them again, of never feeling their hands on me…it made me want to wretch. I wanted to visit the bathroom and spend hours in there, puking until I felt cleansed somehow, but I knew, even then, even if I hugged the toilet for everything it was worth, I would still be left with another lingering emotion. Loneliness. It had been a handful of days since that Friday, and I was already yearning for their touch.
Normally, I enjoyed my week spent fantasizing about the two of them. Yes, I missed them, but it was almost…fun…to let the anticipation build, to spend those days apart so that the reunion was that much sweeter. There was an absence, and I often wished the week would hurry, but at the same time, it was enjoyable.
This was different. There was no relief waiting for me at the end of a shitty week. There was no countdown to when I would be in Edward’s arms again – when I would feel Rosalie’s gentle touch.
It was over, and I was alone.
With a sigh, I clicked my mouse in order to rid my screen of the generic images that were flashing there and attempted to refocus my energy. I opened the document I had been working on when Lauren stopped by my cube and glanced at the clock.
“Jesus, it’s already 11?” I mused aloud.
I shook my head and began to attempt to edit the piece. I made it through three paragraphs before getting lost again in my memories of Friday night.
The silence of my apartment had been deafening. That was a phrase that I’d never before understood, not fully anyway. How could quiet be too much? How could silence cause you physical pain?
But as I stood there, the scent of Edward’s cologne still permeating the air and the sensation of Rose’s hands still on my skin, I got it.
My ears were ringing, and my stomach felt sick. I wanted to curl up in a ball, to collapse into a useless mass on the floor there in my room, but instead, I remained standing, praying that they would come back to me, that Edward would change his mind, that Rosalie would talk him down.
Minutes passed, and neither of them returned.
I was alone, standing in the middle of my bedroom, nearly naked when the anger descended.
When it arrived, I was suddenly seeing red with such voracity that it was very nearly disconcerting, and my mind moved at a million miles a minute.
I can understand if Edward has hang ups, I thought. But how dare he just end this without at least talking to Rose and me?
I began to pace my room, and my anger overwhelmed me. I thought about Rose and how she could have stayed behind to comfort me. How she could have talked to Edward before it got to this point. How she was just as much at fault for the ridiculous mess we found ourselves in.
Then my anger grew exponentially as I realized she had probably been the deciding factor the night we all met. Edward had whispered in my ear that they’d never been serious about following through with a threesome…until they saw me.
Rose had likely instigated this. Looking back to the first evening we’d shared, when I awoke and heard them speaking, it had been Edward who expressed doubt at their ever actually following through with this little fantasy. I wasn’t certain as to when things had gone…awry, but regardless of the timing: Edward should have manned up and admitted to his feelings, whatever those might be, and Rose should have let me in on the fact that Edward was so bothered by what we were doing.
For them to both leave me standing there, vulnerable and alone, was the final straw, and I walked swiftly to the nearest wall and punched it twice. The first time, my knuckle screamed at me, and the second it bled, so I yelled out, “Goddamn it!” and walked to my bathroom to wash my hands.
Staring at my face in the bathroom mirror, I saw the wild look in my eyes, the flush on my cheeks. The splotchy red evidence of my anger spread all the way down my throat, and something about that sight – combined with the cool water bathing my hands – tempered my fury. I was still upset, but I was no longer raging.
I reached into the shower, turning the hot water on full-blast and dressing in my robe before I returned to my bedroom and checked the wall, making certain that no blood had stained the paint there. When I was satisfied that it hadn’t, I walked through my room and into my living room and then to the door, which I locked loudly, my huffs the only sound in my apartment aside from the padding of my feet.
Then, I stepped into my kitchen and shoved the appetizers down the garbage disposal. I tossed the shot glasses into the sink and picked up the tequila, taking a long swig straight from the bottle before I capped it. I could feel the liquor burning in my stomach as I shoved the bottle into my cabinet and then rushed to the bathroom again, where I stepped into a scalding shower, dropping my panties and bra to the floor of the tub, not giving a shit if they were soaked and covered in shampoo and conditioner as I cleaned myself, wanting to erase the feel of their touches, their kisses, their presence.
Of course, in the midst of my frenzied showering, I saw Edward’s razors and shave gel and Rose’s toiletries standing there, almost as though they were mocking me. As soon as the water was turned off, I stepped out of the tub and yanked the things I’d bought specifically for them from their positions around the porcelain basin. As I threw them away in the metal trash bin I kept beneath my sink, I listened to their clatter with a contented huff and then turned on my heel as I returned to my room.
There, I pulled on my rattiest pair of pajama pants and a tank top and, probably from the emotional overload on top of my four shots of tequila, passed the fuck out.
The memories were still swimming in my mind, and the ire I felt had only dissipated slightly. It had been three days since my lovers had abandoned me without a backward glance, and my hand was still sore from hitting the wall. Thankfully, a visit to the hospital was not required, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the ache of the loneliness I felt.
As I sat at my computer, absolutely failing as I attempted to work, I felt nauseous thanks to the cacophony of emotions that were colliding in my mind.
Anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, confusion…all covered with a serious sense of loss.
Jesus H Christ, Swan. What’s next? I wondered, and sighed again as I redoubled my efforts to finish my required edits.
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