Page 5 of Boyfriend From Hell
I kicked my shoes off and left them by the front door, then made a beeline for the kitchen.
Now that I was home safe and in the seclusion of my own space, my heart ached and my mind wandered to trying to call Felix again.
Was he really not going to send me any type of message or anything to wish me a happy birthday?
That’s the bare minimum a person could do!
I’d think after spending years with someone, they’d at least have the decency to reach out.
It’s not like he was an ex from years ago; it’s only been a few months!
The whole apartment was dark—which was odd because I typically leave at least one of the lights on when I go out in the evening.
My mind wandered to my ex for the thousandth time that day and it felt like an iron fist gripped my insides.
The feeling was enough to make me want to hurl.
Who knew sadness could actually make you feel physically sick!
No matter how hard I tried, day in and day out—I couldn’t help but wonder, did he even miss me?
The iron fist in my gut seemed to squeeze tighter and it honestly felt as if I’d eaten an entire batch of spoiled oysters.
I lazily dragged my hand across the light switch that sat on the wall just outside the kitchen.
The ceiling lights flickered on immediately.
At least here, in my shabby apartment, I didn’t feel the need to put on a brave face and pretend that all was “A-okay in Deer-land!”.
I knew he didn’t miss me.
Of all the things that relationship taught me, living in solitude was unfortunately one of them.
I really didn’t mind being home alone so often.
Our house—Felix’s house—stopped feeling empty not long after he started leaving on work trips.
Now, this didn’t feel much different—just about 2,000 square feet smaller.
I walked the short distance to the kitchen and swung open the fridge where my wine (and its half-drunk friends) lay dormant, and hopefully perfectly chilled.
I snagged one without bothering to look, then checked the door with my hip, closing it with a rattle.
My eyes lingered on the pastry I bought myself yesterday for today—sad, I know.
With a sigh, I reached over the island from where I stood near the fridge and snatched the crinkled brown paper bag.
It was heavier than I had remembered (I probably didn’t need to get the largest cupcake in the case, but dark times called for darker measures).
I reached into the bag, already salivating and ready for the sweet release of sugar when my hand brushed something hard and cold.
I cringed, reaching my hand further into the bag as the scratchy paper chewed at the crook of my elbow with its rough edges. What the hell is that?
I pulled out a small to-go box, before I cracked it open—to make sure it was safe, of course.
The large pale pink frosted cupcake sat perched in gleaming golden foil, with a flower of white icing dolloped on top.
I had bought two, but one barely survived the night.
Something about sugar turned me into a dessert fiend.
I snorted at the sight, but the decadent smell of confection infiltrated my nostrils, immediately making my mouth begin to water again.
What else did I even buy? I only remembered buying the cupcake.
Shoving my arm back into the bag, I fumbled for the object that gave it all its weight and pulled it out.
The bag crinkled loudly, as if in revolt.
A delicately wrapped rectangle—heavier than I expected—had been pressed to the bottom.
Pulling the wrapped thing from the bag, I took a second to marvel at the wrapping paper.
It had a thin, almost satin-y feel, small swans were etched in gold along the gleaming creamy surface.
A slow smile crept across my lips, shoulder checking my sadness.
Gracie really went all out, huh? My heart pulled at the gesture; she always made a point to make sure my birthdays were at least slightly decent.
That sneaky bitch must have hidden this in here when she dropped me off yesterday.
Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if I watched the meteor shower with her and Vince, and his coworkers.
I carefully slid my finger between the folds of the paper, being cautious to not give it any unnecessary tears.
I’d for sure be keeping this, call it weird, but I loved little things like this.
I already knew I would fold the remnants of the gift wrap and place it in a book later to crease it to my liking before I stow it away alongside other cards and pieces of wrapping paper that I’ve collected throughout my years of life.
Light refracted off the glossy surface beneath the golden swans, it was a hand mirror.
Gingerly setting the paper aside, I examined the present.
It was among the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
The handle was cold to the touch; ornate designs laced through it and curled around its face.
It was perfect. I slid my finger across its defined curves and along the back, feeling the cold bite of porcelain waiting for me on the other side.
Turning it over, a swan floating on dark water decorated the back surface. I had to text Gracie. This was such a beautiful, thoughtful gift. She always knew how much I loved collecting antiques, ugh.
Setting the mirror down beside the cupcake, I snatched my phone from my back pocket and quickly sent a text to my best friend.
“OMG, thank you so much for the gift, you sneaky bitch! How did you even manage to sneak that in the bag??? What did I ever do to deserve you?! Ugh, looks like I’ll be joining you guys tonight after all—way to guilt me into it with the present. Let me know he address and time, I’ll uber there. Xx”