No More Tomorrows

Chapter 20: Regrets

I came to consciousness slowly. Not wanting to open my eyes and face the day. My head is pounding and my eyes feel like they're filled with sand. Slowly sitting up I notice a glass of water and two Advil by the bed. I automatically reach for them before looking around the room.

I notice I'm actually in my old bedroom, in the apartment I shared with Grant. How did I get in here? The last thing I remember was bawling my eyes out in Grant's lap on the lounge. He must have carried me to bed. With the lack of sleep I've had lately and the trauma of last night I'm not surprised I passed out. I've always been a heavy sleeper and in the past he would often carry me to bed without me waking. 

It's then I realise I'm in just my panties and bralette. He must have undressed me last night. The thought makes me uncomfortable and I immediately search the room for my clothes. Spying my shoes next to the chair by the bathroom door. I can't see my leggings or Aidan's hoodie anywhere. 

I quietly grab clean underwear, some leggings and a tshirt from my side of the wardrobe. A quick stop in the ensuite bathroom has me dressed and feeling more secure. No way I want to have any kind of conversation with Grant in just my underwear. 

I notice the laundry hamper is almost overflowing and scoff to myself. He's obviously not done any laundry since I left. Not a surprise as I'd always taken care of all the household duties. I shake my head at myself when I think of how I was taking care of him while he was lying to me for months. 

I start to dig through it, in case he shoved Aidan's hoodie in there to spite me. I quickly find my leggings from yesterday but no hoodie. Please don't tell me he's done something with it. His reaction last night made it clear he wasn't happy I was wearing it but I'd hope he wouldn't destroy it. 

As I'm shoving his clothes back into the hamper my hand gets caught in the pocket of one of his trousers. As I pull my hand free a receipt and condom wrapper falls from his pocket. I feel the colour drain from my face. These pants were put in the hamper after I left. I know this because when I was off work the day of our anniverary I caught up on all the laundry in the apartment. This means that these were the pants he was wearing that night. The night I saw him at the Club.

Lifting my shaking hand to push the hair form my face I feel my stomach churn. A condom wrapper. My boyfriend has a condom wrapper in his pants. Logically I already knew he had sex with the stripper. He told me. But seeing that wrapper made it 100% real. Like my brain and my heart finally connected the dots. 

I rush to the bathroom and wash my hands. The need to remove the touch of his clothes and that wrapper from my skin. As sick as the wrapper makes me feel it was what I needed. Last night was awful, like I knew it would be, but the way he cared for me reminded me of the old Grant. The one who stepped in when my mum died and convinced his parents to let me live in their garage apartment so I wouldn't have to go into foster care to finish high school. The man who until this last year had been my rock. 

The wrapper was like a slap to the face. A physical reminder that he wasn't that guy any longer. He was a guy who'd lie to me for months and then intimately touch a stripper for weeks before actually having sex with her. If he was telling the truth. Maybe he'd been sleeping with her all along and thought telling me it was only once would make a difference. 

I look at myself in the mirror and hate what I see. I look haggard. Dark circles under my eyes and I've definitely lost a bunch of weight. Nothing like the "Cheating Boyfriend Diet" to help you lose a few pounds. I had so many regrets standing here. Regretting every time I'd kept my mouth shut when he didn't return a call. Regretting every time I'd kept my mouth shut when he missed dinner or a movie. Regretting every time I took him at his word. Trusting him so blindly.