Page 80 of Never Enough
“I’m getting back into cooking.” His voice holds a hint of the old Alex, the one who found solace in flavors and textures before life turned bitter.
I give him a half-smile; the action tears at the stitches I’ve put over my broken heart. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” He clears his throat, looking away for a split second before locking his gaze with mine again. “I’ll stop by tomorrow morning with our breakfast.”
His words hang there, an offer I should refuse. “I don’t want you to,” I say, but it feels like I’m pushing against a tide, my resolve eroding with each syllable.
“Don’t worry, I’ll just drop it off.” Alex’s assurance is gentle, a promise he means to keep.
I say nothing. If I try to utter a single word, I’ll break down in sobs. Instead, I nod because it’s all I’m capable of doing.
Taking the plate from him feels like holding onto a piece of us—a reminder of what we’ve lost and what still lingers, unwanted yet cherished. His next words are quiet, meant only for me. “I love you, Daphne. Only you, baby.”
I shut the door on him, on us, and on the relentless hope that refuses to die. My back presses against the wood, the cool surface grounding me as I clutch the plate to my chest.
“Only me,” I repeat to the empty room. It’s a truth that cuts deep, bleeding out through the cracks in my façade.
I slide down to the floor, the carpet rough beneath my fingers, the smell of meatloaf filling my senses. A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek to drop unceremoniously onto the pie.
Even in the darkness, I can’t escape the warmth of his love, the echo of his words wrapping around me like a ghostly embrace.
And I hate myself for wanting to hold on to it, even now.
Chapter thirty-two
Alex
Islide into the back seat of the Uber, the cool leather a comfort against my radiating skin. I’m a new kind of nervousness today. One that comes with starting therapy and the side effects of my anti-depressants rattling inside my head like maracas in a somber tune.
As I sit in the Uber, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m a fraud. What do I really know about therapy? I’ve never been good at opening up.
Reflecting on my life, I’ve come to the startling realization that I’ve allowed my mental health struggles to have an extremely negative effect on those around me.
Case in point, doubting my worthiness of Daphne, using Celeste as a crutch, and not having enough faith in my sister in allowing her to support me.
It’s too late to change the past, so I focus on the future.
Such as being here for Daphne every step of the way, cook her meals as she’s asked, attend her concerts, and not love her from afarbut instead in front of the entire world. So far, I’ve completed the first one. Every day, I drop off a dish that I think she’d enjoy, sometimes directly, sometimes leaving it with Vic or on her doorstep when she’s busy showering or practicing.
Without a doubt, the times that Daph opened the door for me and accepted my food gifts, I wanted to kiss the fuck out of her. Every single time, she’d stare at the food and subtly lick her lips. What an idiot I’d been to deny her something so simple by feeding her.
Either way, my aim is to show up for her. At the same time, I’ve been attending therapy regularly and started psychotropic medication. That’s what I’m doing right now, taking an Uber to my next therapy appointment.
It’s a slight gesture, but I hope she’ll notice. So, naturally, while I await my appointment, I find myself distracted by thoughts of her. Fishing out my phone, I tap across the screen, hesitating for just a second before posting,Anyone know when the Spring Orchestra concert is?My thumb hovers, then tags Victoria, Eden, and Daphne. I know Daphne won’t see it, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll hear about it and understand the silent plea behind my words.
Eden’s comment pops up almost instantly, her digital voice lacking the warmth I know she’d offer in person.
gardenofEDEN:Ask Victoria.
I could ask Victoria, sure. But everyone—Eden included—knows this isn’t about the date or time. This is about Daphne. A minor rebellion against her blocking me on all socials, against the silence between us.
Alex.Whitmore:I could, but we all know I’m asking because I want to see Daphne play. *Heart eyes emoji*
Celeste chimes in next, her words dripping with false humor. The only thing funny about her comment is how I didn’t tag her, yet she’s replying instantly. It wouldn’t surprise me if she has been stalking my socials.
Celestralbeing:Ha ha, as if. *Laughing face*
My grip tightens around the phone. That’s Celeste, always trying to spin my sincerity into some joke. Daphne deserves more respect than that. She deserves—