Page 131 of Cockpit
And thank you for Luke. He’s one hell of a kid and deserves the world, just like his dad does.
I meant what I said the other night. All of it. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of a life with a woman who can make you laugh every day and who never reminds you of her. She’ll be a lucky woman when you find her. Make sure to take the risk.
Please take care of yourself.
Love,
Sidney
I stare at the letter. At her penmanship, which is curvy and perfect just like her. I read it over again and have to turn my back to Luke so he doesn’t see what it looks like for a woman to bring a man to his knees like Sidney just did.
Holy shit. She really left.
My first night back in my penthouse, and it feels nothing like when I left it.
It’s cold.
It’s empty.
I curl my knees up into Grayson’s shirt that I took with me, and I cry myself to sleep.
Him texting me was inevitable, but when he finally does three days later, it’s crippling.
Grayson: You left without saying goodbye.
I stare at his text for the longest time, trying to figure out how to take it. Is he angry? Is he surprised? Is he disbelieving?
Me: I thought we had already said goodbye.
Grayson: You didn’t even tell me you were leaving early . . . but you told Luke?
Me: I didn’t want him to think I abandoned him. That was very important to me. And you? It was just easier this way.
Grayson: Easier for who?
Me: You. Me. I don’t really know anymore.
Grayson: Neither do I.
I stare at my phone—so many words I need to say, his voice the one thing I desperately want to hear—and I close my eyes as I remember everything about him.
Me: I’m sorry.
Grayson: So am I.
Clutching my phone to my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t even bother to fight the tears.
Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.
Distance makes you want the person more.
Distance makes you realize just what the hell you are missing.
That wrecking ball didn’t do me any damn favors.
Deep breath. This will get easier in time.
It has to because, right now, this sucks.
