8 Weeks by Bethany Lopez Read Free Book Online Page B

each other, neither of us speaking, and I knew we were both reflecting on what we were about to lose.
    As much as I wanted to deny even the remote possibility that my relationship with Shelly would end, I knew that we couldn't go on the way that we were now.
    I yearned for the couple that we used to be.
    When the pain became too much to bear, I stood and said, "Well, I'd better get back to it." Then I turned and went back to finish packing up the bathroom with a heavy heart.
    As I listened to the sounds of our friends whispering in the other room, I packed and labeled boxes for Shelly and myself.
    My stomach burned as I divided all of our stuff, most of which we had bought together. It wasn't hard to figure out who got what; I packed most of it for Shelly. All I needed were the bare essentials. Plus, I was holding out hope that in eight weeks, we'd be moving back in together and moving forward with the rest of our life.
    My mind kept returning to the night before, and I knew I had to come up with a date that didn't have the potential to backfire like last night's date had. Convincing Shelly that I loved her implicitly, that she could trust me, and that we belonged together, was my only focus at this point.
    There was no future for me without Shelly in it. I just needed to convince her of the same.
     

 
     
    Chapter 14 - Shelly
     
    Was this ever going to get easier?
    I cried myself to sleep again last night. After packing up our home on Sunday, the girls and I went back and cleaned the house on Monday, to get it ready for Sasha to show it. I didn't tell Cal, or ask the guys to come help, because after Sunday, I didn't think I could stand the pain that came from all of us being together.
    I hated how awkward it was, and I wished there was something I could do to change it.
    After we were done cleaning, I'd taken my time and walked around the house. I ran my hand along the countertops, remembering the first dinner I'd cooked for Cal. Meatloaf, with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn on the cob.
    Cal loved my meatloaf.
    I smiled when I looked over the stencils I'd painted in the bathroom. They were delicate white flowers against the baby blue walls. Cal had joked that he'd wanted the bathroom to be done in a fishing theme, but I'd bought the stencils and had the bathroom decorated by the time he'd gotten home from work. He'd pretended to be angry, but I said I'd make up for it, and we'd ended up having sex right there. He'd lifted me up against the wall, and when my legs wrapped around his waist, the decor of the bathroom was quickly forgotten.
    I couldn't walk into any room of our home without a memory of Cal and me making love coming through. We'd always had a wonderful sex life, and I'd often had a hard time keeping my hands off of him. Cal was one of the sexiest and most handsome men I’d ever seen. And he was all mine.
    At least … he had been.
    Now, I was sitting at my desk at the bank, trying not to think about Sasha showing my house to prospective buyers.
    I should be ecstatic that she already had people interested in seeing the house, but my heart hurt when I thought of someone living in the home Cal and I had built together.
    It had been my decision to sell it, but I hadn't realized how hard it would be.
    I sighed deeply and pushed back from my desk.
    I needed coffee.
    I walked into the break room, started fixing a cup, and turned when I heard the door open behind me.
    "Oh, hey, Carlos," I said when the small loans officer walked in.
    "Hi, Shelly, how are you today?" Carlos asked with a smile.
    Carlos had been working with me at the bank for about three months. He was new to the area and was really sweet. He was good-looking and kind, a single dad of a little boy.
    "Okay," I lied with a smile. "How about you?"
    Carlos walked over and filled his cup. He looked down for a minute, just standing there with his steaming mug in his hand, then he cleared his throat and looked up at me sheepishly.
    "Look, Shelly," he began.