Loving a Man Who Forgot Me Novel Chapter 79
“No!” An indignant flush reddened her cheeks. “Abbi has loved you her entire life.
She’s known this guy a year!” She threw her hands up. “I don’t care how great he is or how in love with him she thinks she is.
He’s not you. He’s never going to be you. Abbi’s only fooling herself, and if you let her do this, you will both regret it.
I know her just like I know you, and I can see what you’re both doing, so why can’t the two of you?” “Hey, It’s going to be okay.”
I didn’t feel like it, but I couldn’t bear to put my pain onto my sister. “No, it’s not,” her voice cracked.
“It’s not, because Abbi is it for you. We all know it, and if you let her marry someone else, then I’m afraid you’re never going to be happy, and I can’t let that happen.” She shook her head hysterically. “I can’t. None of us can.”
“I’m sorry, sis, but this just isn’t about what you want or what I want. It’s about what Abbi wants.” “Have you even asked her what she wants?” she cried out exasperatedly. “No, but I’m pretty sure he did, and I’m pretty sure she said yes. That’s how it works.”
Her face scrunched up in a frown. “Dude, that’s noble and all, but it’s also bullshit,” Jesse finally spoke again. “Yes, screw being noble,” Addie said.
“Just stop,” I told them all. “Abbi’s marrying her guy. It’s not me, and we all just have to accept that. If I can, then you all sure as hell can.” “Whatever,” Jesse grunted. “We tried,” Nash let out a resigned breath.
Addie said nothing, she just held my stare for several moments, and then with an aggravated huff, she spun around and headed for the door, snagging her purse on the way. “I hope you come to your senses before it’s too late,” she tossed backward.
“It’s already too late,” I muttered after her. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder at me. “It’s not too late until she says I do.” She left the apartment, and the other two left the room.
I sighed and dropped back onto the couch. Something poked me in the ass. I lifted and reached under me and pulled out the pen. I tossed it onto the table next to the notebook, but the notebook was gone. One of those jackasses must have confiscated it.
Assholes. I sat back and tipped my head back. Some intervention. Jesse was right about one thing. I did need a damn shower. And to do laundry. I was running out of clean clothes without going to my place. I think I was wearing Nash’s sweatpants.
Kat had called a few times, but I just didn’t have it in me to talk to her. Right now, I wasn’t sure what I’d say to her. She’d given up and texted that she’d be out of the penthouse by this weekend, which meant my place would be mine again when I came back from Boston.
I could take a week, or a month, and just recover from the last two weeks. Wasn’t like I had a tour. That was out, and the label was giving me a little time to decide what came next. The question on their minds was whether or not I was done with music altogether.
They’d made it clear there was wiggle room for negotiation if I planned to continue releasing music as a solo artist or with a new band. If not, well then, I was probably getting sued. Problem was, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted anymore. I’d only ever been sure of two things.
Abbigail Cross and my music. The latter had cost me the former. In a way. And I didn’t know how I was ever getting past that. The only music I had in me right now was depressing shit. A notebook full of it, because that’s all I could do to keep from going crazy.
Nash or Jesse took it because they didn’t understand that. They didn’t get it. They thought I was moping, and maybe I was, but this was the only way I knew how to process.ad would say that making something out of the pain was productive.
Too bad those assholes probably hid the notebook. I shoved up from the couch. I’d shower and then beat their asses if they didn’t give it back.
The hot water felt good on my sore body. Jesse’s couch was better than Addie’s but not by much. Not for someone over six foot. I propped my hands against the shower wall and let my head hang under the punishing spray.
I spent longer in there than usual and would have stayed even longer if one of them hadn’t beat on the door. I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist before pulling the door open. “What?”
“We’re going to The Forty to watch the game.” Jesse said. “You coming? I’ll pay for the wings and the beer.” “Nah, you guys go ahead.” Jesse looked about to argue, but Nash clapped him on the back and said, “Come on. Just leave him.” Then he looked at me.
“You want us to bring anything back?” “You could bring some wings.” Jesse snorted, but Nash nodded and then ushered his brother away from the bathroom. I started to shut the door, and then hollered after them, “Leave my damn notebook on the table.”
“Don’t know what notebook you’re talking about,” Jesse shouted, and the apartment door shut with a bang. “Dickhead,” I muttered, closing the bathroom door. Wasn’t like I couldn’t find something else to write on. I did.
I spent the rest of the night doing more of the same, watching mindless TV in between bouts of writing and playing and wanting to throw Jesse’s acoustic guitar across the room. I doubt he’d miss it much since I was pretty sure I’d played it more in the last three days than he ever had.
Eventually I gave up waiting for them to come back with wings and cooked a couple frozen burritos from the freezer, and passed out not much later. Friday was more of the same, and then Saturday morning arrived, and we got our asses up and headed to Boston, picking Addie up on our way.
Thank Jesus I had my headphones. If I’d had to spend the entire four-hour drive listening to Addie and Jesse bicker, I would have thrown myself out of the car onto the freeway.