Page 10 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)
Logan
Once again, I found myself sitting at the hotel bar as I drowned in expensive liquor. Talking to Mr. Burke had left my head all over the place. Normally, I’d talk these sorts of things out with Eva. But I couldn’t.
No matter how long I stared at my phone on the bar top, I couldn’t do it.
I desperately wanted to, though. I wanted to hear her voice and that breathy laugh of hers.
I wanted her oddly sage advice and the comforting words she seemed to always have when my mind was all over the place. Even just that would’ve been enough.
But what was the point in asking for a divorce if I never took the space I needed? She didn’t need to hear about any of my struggles. She didn’t need to hear about how confused her husband—soon-to-be ex-husband—was.
The problem was that I’d spent my whole life with Eva as my support system. I talked everything out with her. The heavy stuff and the stupid stuff. It felt like I couldn’t catch my breath without talking to her.
I downed the last bit of my drink and flagged down the bartender to pay. While the hotel swayed ever so slightly, I made my way to my room. The quiet was deafening. Lonely. There was so much space and no one to share it with. All I wanted to do was call Eva.
And in the silence of my hotel room, the doubt began to settle in. Had I fucked it all up? Had I been stupid to let her go? Yeah, I had.
Did I really need to figure out if I was as attracted to men as my dick was telling me I was? Maybe it was all just some early midlife crisis.
I s ighed because I knew it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t every time I closed my eyes and thought of Elliot. My heart did just as many stupid things as my dick did when he was around. He affected me the same way Eva did.
I liked Elliot so much more than I should’ve for just being best friends. For practically being family.
But then again, I noticed people. Way more people than I wanted to notice. How fucked up was that? As a married man, I wasn’t supposed to be noticing anyone but my wife. It was wrong.
I groaned as I dropped to the bed and threw an arm over my head.
I wished it was just Elliot. I could blame our questionably close relationship for my whole issue and call it a day.
But no, it was also the owner of our coffee shop with the dark hair and a full tattoo sleeve.
He was easy to talk to, and I liked our conversations.
Every time he laughed, it did things to me.
And one of the trainers at my gym. We didn’t talk much, but he always dropped by to check in, adjust my form, and shoot the shit for a few minutes while I was there. The fact that I needed a cold shower after he touched me wasn’t helping my cause.
How was any of that fair to Eva?
God, I was a fucking mess. I felt so goddamn alone, and I didn’t know where to begin. Why couldn’t there be an easy answer to understand what was wrong with me?