Chicago Is So Two Years Ago, Its All About Vegas Baby

I stood in the hallway for what seemed like forever, staring blankly at the door. The cold silver ring gripped firmly in my hand.

It didn’t feel like an engagement ring was meant to, it was all wrong. You were meant to receive an engagement from the man you’d been faithful to, from the man that knew he could trust you whatever happened. I wasn’t faithful, I wasn’t worthy of being trusted by Pete, not anymore.

I felt hollow, like my heart had been ripped out. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was walking from the building, my bags in one hand, the ring in the other.

I walked down the streets, desperately trying to keep a brave face, but I could see the people in front of me, their sympathy was almost painful. I didn’t deserve it.

Before I could comprehend where my feet were taking me, I found myself in front of an apartment building. I almost smiled as I realised where I was, using my index finger to press the button to one of the apartments.

‘Hello?’

‘Patrick, it’s me,’ I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Can I stay with you for a while?’

A second later, the door buzzed and I entered the building, silently thanking Patrick for not asking me more questions on his doorstep.

By the time I got to the door of his apartment, Patrick was leaning against his doorway waiting for me. He gave me a sad look before opening his arms.

I dropped my bag and ran towards him, burying my face in his shoulder as I finally allowed the tears to fall, all the while keeping the ring gripped in my hand.

He didn’t say anything, just hugged me, that was all I needed.

After a while, I pulled away, inhaling heavily to try and stop the tears. Patrick grabbed my bag and gestured for me to go into his apartment.

I huddled up on his familiar sofa while he busied himself making coffee, neither of us said a word until he was opposite me at the other end of the sofa, the mug of coffee clutched in his hands mirroring my own.

‘You told him didn’t you?’ he asked, eyebrows raised, sympathy and concern etched into every line on his voice.

I nodded, looking away from him for a moment to compose myself.

‘I’ve let him down so much, Patrick. I didn’t deserve him in the first place.’

‘What did he say?’ I could tell from his voice that he was trying to be impartial, but I knew I’d let him down too.

‘He just…told me that he couldn’t be with someone he couldn’t trust, and then he told me to leave. He could have been so much harsher and I wouldn’t have blamed him for a second.’

Patrick was silent, instead choosing to take a sip of his coffee thoughtfully.

‘Patrick?’ I asked quietly; he looked up. ‘When I left…Pete gave me this…’ I pulled the ring from my pocket where I had stowed it. It didn’t feel right to put it on.

I held it out for Patrick to see, and he looked away from me.

‘You knew didn’t you? You knew he was going to propose?’

‘He told me yesterday…’

I nodded. There were no words to express how awful I felt, so I remained silent, drinking my coffee. It seemed that Patrick didn’t know what to say either, because he was silent too, studying me as I drank.

‘Is it alright if I go and lie down?’ I asked, unable to bear the tension. He smiled sadly.

‘Of course, you can have the guest room.’

I got up, walking slowly into the guest room where I had stayed many times. I didn’t bother to get my bags and change, I just crawled underneath the covers with my normal clothes on. Almost wishing I could disappear completely within the soft sheets. They were too soft, I was too comfortable, I almost felt like I didn’t deserve such luxuries anymore.

- - -

By the time I woke up again, there was sunlight streaming through the blinds, and I could hear the traffic of people travelling to work on the road outside the apartment block.

For a moment, it seemed like everything was alright, and then all of a sudden I realised where I was, and why I was there.

Pete. I could feel tears stinging the back of my eyes, but I blinked furiously, determined not to cry, to be strong.

I lay back on my pillow, trying to work out what I was going to do, when I was suddenly hit by a wave of nausea.

Before I could comprehend my actions I was sprinting out of the room to the bathroom next door and promptly emptying the contents of my stomach into my toilet.

I sank back against the side of the bath, momentarily exhausted, and completely caught off guard.

I stood up gingerly and washed my face, almost wincing as I caught sight of my reflection. I looked awful, my curly brown hair was tangled and frizzy, my eyes were red around the edges and my face was pale.

‘Are you okay?’ I jumped as I noticed Patrick standing in the doorway.

‘Yeah,’ I murmured, frowning as I realised I no longer felt sick. ‘Guess it’s just stress or something. I feel fine now.’ He looked at me dubiously. ‘Seriously,’ I murmured, waving my hand dismissively. ‘I’m fine!’

‘Good, you want breakfast?’ I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake myself up a bit more.

‘Sure, you cooking?’ I asked, a faint smile on my lips.

‘Yep, what do you fancy?’ I paused for a second, considering my answers.

‘It sounds weird, but I really feel like eating fish…have you got any tuna?’ he stared at me for a second, as though he was studying how serious I was.

‘I’ve got tuna…but I was going to cook bacon!’ I laughed.

‘You make bacon, just point me in the direction of the tuna and I’ll do that.’

‘Ok…are you sure you’re feeling alright?’ he looked insanely confused.

‘Yeah, I honestly feel fine. I’ll be out in a minute, just let me shower.’