8

Kamryn

June 5, 2015

CALLING OUT A good-bye to my employees, Grace and Andy, I rested my elbows on the counter near the pastry case and groaned into my hands. My days seemed to drag lately, and it had nothing to do with work. Business was steady, I still loved baking every day, and Kinlee made sure my days were never dull. But I missed Brody. I physically ached from having gone so long without him, sleep was practically nonexistent now, and I’m pretty sure people were beginning to get suspicious with my constant “Mondays suck” theme in the bakery.

If the day didn’t start off well, making it feel like a Monday, we blasted music all day and put out a sign letting customers know that they could throw the old cupcakes against one of our walls to get frustrations out. And I’d been doing it almost every other day.

It had only been a little over two weeks since I’d seen him . . . but an hour without him was torture. Weeks without his touch? It felt like I was constantly suffocating, fighting for air.

I wasn’t this girl who relied on men to survive, never had been. I’d been with Charles out of obligation, but was happy and free when I was away from him. And I’d been more than content being alone when I’d moved to Oregon. Now my world revolved around one man. I had turned into one of those love-struck teenagers whose dramatic fits would sound something like “I can’t live without him.” I knew how ridiculous I sounded, but my need for him was unlike anything I’d ever known.

I’d never believed in soul mates, because no one I’d grown up around had been happy with their spouse. But something in me called to Brody. I never felt as whole as I did when I was with him, and the time we spent apart felt as if my soul had been torn in two. I couldn’t tell you if this empty, hollow feeling was how I’d always been, and it was just more pronounced now that I’d had glimpses of what being whole was like, or if it was all in my head. But I knew if there was such a thing as soul mates, Brody Saco was mine.

And he was still married to another woman.

Straightening up and turning to go into the kitchen to finish up the dishes, I rubbed at the pain in my chest and tried to force the bitter thoughts about Olivia from my mind. I didn’t have the right to hate her. And still, I did. I hated her for being with the man I loved. I hated that she took him from me during the few stolen moments we were able to have. And I hated that I was the one who should be hated by her. I was taking her husband; he was being unfaithful to her because of me. I was ruining a marriage.

As I had done so many times since Brody and I had decided to be together, I felt sick over what we were doing. But even through the guilt, I couldn’t stop my mind from going back to thoughts of Olivia. I wondered what it was about her that had kept Brody this long. I wondered why Brody still wasn’t leaving her.

With a frustrated cry, I threw the dishes I’d been carrying into the sink and gripped the edge with both hands as I forced myself to stay standing.

“I’m not this girl. I’m not this girl,” I chanted to the empty kitchen. But I am.

And it was slowly driving me insane. When we were apart, I second-guessed our decision to start the relationship before he could get a divorce from Olivia. I wondered why I felt bad at all if he was so miserable in his marriage. I hated his wife. I hated myself. A jealousy unlike anything I’ve ever felt made itself known more than once a day. Guilt spread through my body and threatened to cripple me. And my need to be with him again grew stronger with each passing hour.

All of this . . . all of these conflicted emotions . . . were like a broken record in me. I would go through all of them only to start at the beginning again.

So many nights, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I would mentally scream that I couldn’t do this anymore. That I couldn’t handle the guilt anymore. But then I would talk to him, and even through the heartache of knowing he was going home to his wife instead of me, I knew I would go through this emotional torture again and again for Brody.

I just hated that I didn’t know when I would see or talk to him. We were supposed to be able to talk—if not see each other—every night he worked. He worked four days on, then had four days off, and in the beginning I’d lived for those four days on. But lately we’d been reduced to working around Olivia and her schedule since Brody had been worried that Olivia was getting suspicious of something. Which meant I hadn’t seen him in two and a half weeks and had talked to him only three times.

Why was he worried about Olivia getting suspicious when he was supposedly leaving her? I didn’t know. Because you’re stupid for thinking he’ll leave his wife for you. I gritted my teeth and pushed that thought aside. He will leave her. He will.

My phone rang, jolting me from my conflicted inner ramblings. Fumbling to get my phone out of my pocket, my heart skipped a beat before taking off when I saw Brody’s name on the screen. He hadn’t called in almost a week, and I hadn’t been expecting anything for some time to come since today was day one of his four off.

Sliding my finger across the screen to answer, I put the phone to my ear and held my breath after I asked, “Hello?” My biggest fear was Olivia getting ahold of his phone and calling me, and me answering in a way that would easily give away that I was in a relationship with her husband.

“Fuck, Kamryn, you have no idea what just hearing your voice does to me.”

My knees weakened, and I released a shaky breath as I used the sink to support my weight again. “Bro—” My voice gave out, and I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat.