First Love (3 page)

“She doesn’t love me! If she loved me she wouldn’t just leave without a single word. Not even a goodbye.” I fell to the ground crying. Ima followed and wrapped her arms around me. She must have stayed there with me for a good hour and a half. In my truck, on my way home, I made a promise to myself. No fucking way was I ever getting hurt by another woman again. Amber was my first and last relationship.

I
WAS
driving home through downtown Atlanta. I usually spent the whole day volunteering at the youth center, but I left before lunch. I called my fiancé, Daniel, at his office to see how his morning in court went and his secretary told me he went home early because he wasn’t feeling well. I thought that was strange. He never gets sick and he was fine when he left this morning.

When I moved to Atlanta six years ago, I was a heartbroken mess. I could barely function for the first year. I only left my tiny, one bedroom apartment to go to classes, the library, and the coffee shop across the street from my apartment.

One evening, walking into the coffee shop in my normal zombie-like state, I was quickly pulled from my stupor. I slammed into something hard, a wet burning sensation spilling down the front of me, followed by a very sexy male voice yelling, "Oh, shit ... are you okay?" I look up to see a gorgeous man with short, jet black hair and the most beautiful brown eyes I think I have ever seen. Normally, I like blue eyes. But, these eyes were almost hypnotic with long, thick lashes. After I got over my embarrassment from not only running into him and spilling his coffee all over the two of us, but also from obviously drooling all over him, I was finally able to speak.

“I am so sorry ... I wasn't paying attention." Oh God, his smile might be better than his eyes. His low chuckle snapped me back to reality. "Let me replace your coffee for you, I feel terrible." He looked at me and flashed that damn smile again.

"Sure, on two conditions. One, you join me. Two, we don't wear them," he teased, laughing. From that night on, we became friends. He was funny, charming, sweet, and sexy as hell, but the last thing on my mind was putting my heart out there again.

We would go to dinner, movies, or just hang out at home. By taking me out and doing things, he helped pull me out of my depression. After about a year and a half, he told me he was in love with me. I was shocked. I honestly didn't think he felt anything more for me than friendship. I knew I cared for him, but I still wasn’t ready for a relationship and I was honest with him. Again, he was his normal, wonderful self. He acted like nothing happened and we continued our friendship as it was.

About two years ago, he brought it up again. At this point, I felt that maybe it was time. He had been so patient with me and slowly gained my trust. Things with Daniel Ford were easy and comfortable. My heart was safe.

About a year ago, when Daniel completed law school, he asked me to marry him. I accepted. We moved in together about six months ago.

I tried to call his cell phone to see if he needed anything before I left work. It went to voicemail. I pull up in front of our townhouse and head inside. I don’t want to wake him, so I close the front door quietly behind me. As soon as I turn around, I start to feel a little ill myself. A trail of clothes led from the living room down the hall to the bedroom. I feel frozen in place, my feet refusing to carry me forward. After what seems like hours, but was only minutes, I force myself to follow the trail of discarded clothing. I know what I’m going to find at the end of the trail, but I need to see it with my own eyes to believe it was happening. The range of emotions playing through my head made it throb: anger, hurt, sadness. I try to think of any signs that I missed; anything that may have clued me in to his cheating. I actually start to wonder if there was something I lacked that made him do this. How pathetic ... I was not one of those girls. He was going to be lucky to make it out of here with his balls still attached. He knew what I went through before I met him. Christ, he waited four fucking years to date me.

A loud moan assaulted my ears as I got closer to our bedroom. The door is cracked, so I slowly look inside. My stomach is twisted in knots and I can feel the burn of bile making its way up my throat as soon as I see them. I gather myself up … I may have been a coward once, but I'll be damned if I am one again. I walk into the room as calmly as possible, stand at the foot of the bed, and clear my throat. “Excuse me ... could you two please finish up here so I can start packing my shit," I say as sweetly as possible. I refuse to cry over another cheating asshole. The whore bag was looking at me like
I
was the one in her bed fucking
her
fiancé. I really want to grab her by her bleach-blonde extensions and throw her boney ass out into the front lawn, naked. Daniel was quick to jump off of her and head toward me. I threw my hands up to stop him. "Put some clothes on and get your whore out of my bed," I say without even a crack in my voice. I’m proud of myself. I don't even feel like crying. Weird. Maybe I’m just too pissed off.

"Who are you calling a whore?" she screeches as she jumps out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself.

I slowly looked her up and down as I walk up to her and say, "You are the one in MY house, in MY bed, fucking MY fiancé! To me, that spells whore." By now, I have her backed up against the wall and she’s starting to look a little worried.
Good.
"You have five minutes to get your clothes on and get your ass out of my sight. I am not above throwing you out myself." With that, she got her ass in gear and headed out of the room. Maybe she wasn't as dumb as she looked.

"Amber, honey, let me explain ... it's not what it looks like," Daniel pleads. I spin around to face him and just start laughing. Honestly, did he really just say that?

"It looked like you were fucking her," I say, matter-of-factly.

He starts to speak, but I shoot him a looked that shut him up. I start laughing, again. "Let me guess … both of you just happened to lose your clothes and she tripped. You tried to catch her, but fell on top of her and your dick accidently slipped inside? Really, Daniel? Do you think I am that stupid? How could it possibly not be what it looked like? At least have the balls to not make excuses." I shake my head and head for the closet to get my suitcases. I calmly start packing everything I have.

"I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." I can see that he is sorry by the look on his face. Whether it was for getting caught or actually cheating, who knows. My guess is a mixture of both. I have known in my heart since I met Daniel that I loved him. Was it the earth stopping, can't breathe without him, kind of love? No. I had that once and I don't think I will ever have it again. But, I thought my heart was safe with him.

“You knew I went through this before and how much it broke me; how hard it was for me to trust you. The whole time you knew you were just going to do the same thing but figured you were smarter and wouldn't get caught. I am pissed, more so at myself for being so stupid... for ever trusting you in the first place!"

He had nothing to say. Really, what could he say? Nothing could change it. I start to realize that this felt nothing like the last time. I am sad, most definitely angry, and a little humiliated, but I am not crushed. I was devastated when I found out about Kyle. I should be just as devastated now. Like a ton of bricks, it hit me. I never loved Daniel enough to marry him. I love him as a friend. I was too scared after Kyle to put my heart on the line again. Daniel was there. And, because I didn’t have those deep feelings for him, I was safe. I am no better than Daniel.

As I’m packing my clothes, I have to figure out what I want to do. I realize that I need to go back home. Home is where I really belong and the only place I was ever happy. Although I had no family left, I still love that small town. Too bad Kyle isn’t there anymore. Last I heard, he was in California, following his dream of becoming rock star.

Daniel helps me load everything into my car. I guess it’s the least he could do. Before I get in, I take my engagement ring off my finger and put it in his palm. "I never should have said yes in the first place. I am sorry for that." I kiss his cheek and say goodbye.

During the nine-hour drive to Oakville, Florida, a very small town near the Everglades where I grew up, I can't help but think about my life before I left. When I was two, my parents died in a car accident. My father’s parents, my only living relatives, raised me. I had a wonderful childhood and loved my grandparents dearly. After I moved to Atlanta, I didn't go home much, but they came to visit me often. They had asked a few times what had happened to make me leave as quickly as I did, but I never told them what I saw. I didn't want them worrying that I was making life decisions solely based on a broken heart. Though, that’s what I did. My heart was definitely broken and I was a mess. It’s a miracle I passed the first year of college.

About six months after I left, Kyle stopped asking them about me. Within a year, he was off to L.A. When we made our plans to go to college, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was holding him back from his dreams. I would have supported anything he wanted to do, but he always said that being famous and singing full time was not the lifestyle he wanted. He wanted to own a restaurant where he could play his music on the weekends. He said it would be like having the best of both worlds. I guess it was all a lie, just like all the times he told me how much he loved me.

A year ago, my grandpa passed away. Luckily, I was able to be here for a couple of weeks with him before he died. They had waited a long time to tell me he had cancer because they didn't want to worry me, afraid I would drop everything to come home. Of course I would have dropped everything to come home, anything to spend more time with them. Two days after he passed away, Grandma went to sleep one night and never woke up. They were married for over sixty years. It didn't surprise me that one couldn't live without the other. They had a lot of hard times, but always got through it together.

They had the kind of love that we all dream of having. It was the kind I thought I had once. When the other person steps into the room and everything stands still. Your heart rate picks up to the point it feels like it is going to break through your chest. When you are apart, they are always running through your mind and you can't wait to be with them again. The kind of love that can make your knees weak. Yeah, I felt that once … it's just too bad Kyle didn't.

My grandparents left me the house, land, and enough money to keep me comfortable for a very long time. In order to thank them and make them proud, a lot of my time was spent volunteering at shelters and youth centers trying to help as many people as I could.

I turn off the main road onto the mile long dirt road leading to the house. The sun is just starting to rise, unveiling the green grass and old oak trees. I always forget how beautiful it is here. As the house came into view, I couldn’t help but smile. It made me think of my grandparents, Kyle, and all of the good times I had growing up. It also made my chest ache; I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.