The seconds stretched into minutes that fell into days. When I finally looked at my calendar, I realized it had been a whole month since I'd even heard his voice. Inside, I was dying the slowest, most painful death. Death by heartbreak. I went through the motions. I got up in the morning and made myself presentable; I did my job. I smiled. I pretended that every time my phone beeped or a new email landed in my inbox I wasn't praying that it was him. And every night when I curled up in bed alone, I fought the urge to reach out. What would it change? He chose revenge over me. He needed to hurt someone, more than he needed to start over with me. He was willing to give me up. And that was the thing that haunted me. He said he loved me. He'd been inside me, a part of me. He claimed me as his—and then he'd just tossed me aside. I'd wanted Stacia to step up as the Logan Mason Sucks co-chair, but she declined the position. She encouraged me to reach out to him. She brought up his past, how desperately he must have wanted the baby, stress over work—but it was all irrelevant.
