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I am mentally not craving him much, but my traitorous body is.

I start yoga again, and I start doing twice as much as before. It does not help, at all. Waking in the middle of the night, and thinking of him inside me, messes with my head.

After two days of experimenting, I find a way to cope. The only way I can sleep properly, is to run for an hour a day.

I have to exhaust my body, just like he’d done to me, often leaving me in a pile.

Used. Fulfilled. Satiated. Dripping.

The son of a bitch has not only broken my mind, but he has also broken my body.

That night a call comes in, and I check my screen. It’s from Anastasia. Nervously, I take it, and I walk onto the deck.

She tells me Lorenzo called her, and he wanted to know I’m alright.

I tell Anastasia very little, because I don’t want him to look bad to anyone. I just say we are best alone. Apart.

Deep down I feel heart broken, and I fight not to cry.

Anastasia tells me she thinks there is more to it, but I tell her, I think I need a quiet life. And a simple one. I breathe deep, and I stand in the moonlight as we talk. Finally, I promise to stay in touch, and we finish with a giggle, after I send her my love.

After another day of sweating, and me in near panic mode over wasting a third of my money advertising my website, I check my site tracking panel.

I double blink, and look, again.

There must be some kind of mistake. Over five hundred people viewed my site yesterday, and something seems to have changed. I also have emails, thirty in my inbox.

After checking, I find six orders, and they are coming in from all around the country.

My crazy designs are actually working, and maybe, just maybe, my imagination will put food on the table.

Celebrating with a six pack of local beer, and a talk with a local old timer grounds me.

His hound, and the lake edge, are the icing on the cake.

Even if I feel sick, and can’t stop thinking about Lorenzo, the beach in the Hamptons, and weirdly the falcon, I like being surrounded by nature.

The sunsets help too, as with the ducks, peace, and space.

At least my design career is taking off and working for me! I am still a mess, but I am a mess with means, and a plan!

The shockof going from perfectly content, and the glamorous champagne jet setting life, to jeans, and beers overlooking a lake, has been fast and hard.

But I am here, and I am alive.

I may be hidden from the world, but things are predictable.

I still get messages from him, but I receive no more calls. I have never replied, and most of his messages mention a ‘misunderstanding,’ or that he has ‘not returned to my old ways.’

He has not used words I would consider acceptable.

Like ‘sorry,’ or ‘love.’

Maybe we’re different people after all, and maybe we were never meant to be. I also suspect this now. That I am meant to be alone.

Forever.

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