Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I double tap his picture, giving it a heart, and contemplate commenting on it, but I don’t. We’ve said enough for now. Maybe our destiny isn’t anything more than friends.
First.
Last.
And always.
When I land in LA, I text Zach even though this is the first time he didn’t ask me to do it.
Em: Home.
It’s not really home. I don’t actually have a home right now. It’s nothing new.
Within seconds, he heart emojis my text. He’s making an effort at something. I’m not sure what yet. And it’s most unexpected since my parting text to him was: Send me the papers.
The next morning, Leah drags my emotionally drained ass to breakfast at her favorite juice bar. She thinks a shot of wheatgrass will cure me of all the things. The smile on my face makes up for the lack of bounce in my step because … I woke up to another Instagram post from Zach. It’s a photo of him from behind, walking through an airport with his bag slung over his shoulder. It’s quite candid and sexy. I’m not sure if he asked someone to take it (which oddly thrills me if he did) or if it happened to him unknowingly until said person showed it to him. Good morning, Honolulu. #PilotLife
The fucker’s in Hawaii. I smirk at the vulgar, jealous thoughts running through my head. What I wouldn’t give to be on a beach in Hawaii with Zach. After a quick double tap on his photo, I snap a pic of my new white sneakers that Leah gave me, an overflow of free products that companies send her. The shoes retail for just over three hundred dollars. Work perks. #ShoeWhore
I’m not sure what prompted Zach to start posting on Instagram (I hope it was me), but he continues to do it. One post a day over the next couple of months. Every post is a glimpse into his life as a pilot, and he uses one hashtag: PilotLife. Until … he posts a picture of a woman’s pregnant belly with a henna tattoo on it. For a second, my heart falters, skipping more than one beat.
Can’t wait to meet my niece. #ProudUncle
I break my no-comment rule after liking the post. It makes me a little emotional. Is it bittersweet? Is he thinking of the baby he never got the chance to have with Suzie?
Congrats to Danni and Aaron … and Uncle Zach. <3
An hour later, Zach likes my comment. No reply, just a one-heart acknowledgment. That’s enough.
I waste no time sending five new outfits to Zach's house for him to give to Aaron and Danni, along with a card for them (again apologizing profusely for disrupting their wedding with my outburst), and a congratulatory card for his parents as well. On the note for Zach, I write:
Please give these to your family. I’m so happy for all of you. Much love, Em.
P.S. I hope you’re happy.
For whatever reason that I don’t care to acknowledge, I find myself posting more often. I want Zach to see that I’m fine, whether I really am or not. And maybe … that’s the same reason he’s posting. I’m fine. He’s fine. Life didn’t end when we did.
So many posts:
Leah hunched down on the beach, taking a picture of a newly constructed sandcastle in the sunset with a young child blurred in the distance. #MalibuSunset #Bloggerlife #photography
Santa Monica Pier. #Westcoast #Bloggerlife #Photography
Me having coffee early in the morning while working on photo edits. #Bloggerlife #photography #LoveMyJob
I share my life with Zach in a public way, and he does the same with me. No phone calls. No texts. I think we’re moving on without saying the words.
Except … he’s never sent me divorce papers.
I’m making enough money to get my own insurance as long as I don’t end up with some huge hospital bill.
In April, I post a photo of a wedding we shot in Utah.
Have you found your happily ever after? #Forever #Weddingphoto #IDo #Lovers
Zach has given a heart to everything I’ve posted, and I’ve done the same to his posts. Until today. He posts eerie-looking clouds from the cockpit. I post about a wedding dress. And he doesn’t acknowledge my post at all?
“Why the sad face, babe?” Leah asks, plopping down on the bed beside me.
“Nothing. I’m just reading into … nothing.”
She plucks my phone from my hands. “It’s a great picture. If I got married tomorrow, I’d legit pick out a dress just like hers.”
“It’s beautiful.” I nod several times and roll my lips between my teeth.
Leah hands my phone back to me and narrows her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing. I mean …” I groan and flop back onto my pillow. “He didn’t like it.”
“Who didn’t like what?”
“Zach. He didn’t like the photo. He likes all of my posts … without fail.”
She chuckles. “Maybe he hasn’t been on to see it.”