Page 3 of The Bitter Words

I want to ask you what went wrong for you, when and where you decided we couldn’t work out. I want answers, but again, from your mentoring, I know I can’t control what others do or feel. Those questions are irrelevant.

The only thing I can be in charge of is how I experience and respond to them. Therefore, no explanation is required. I’ll figure out my own feelings and grow from there.

Your decision is respected. I’ll be an adult about this. Our professional relationship will go untarnished because I still respect you so very much.

Good, then maybe you’ll listen to me when I tell you this is all a misunderstanding.

Trust I’m coming to terms with our breakup and will be able to move on without injuring myself. Calm yourself of any worries you may harbor about that.

By being around you, I’ve grown up and found safe ways to release my internal agony. Thank you for helping me with this aspect of my life. I’m eternally grateful.

One last thing before I sign off and let our relationship go for good. The fact that you’re fifteen years older than me was never an issue for me. It was never the reason I wanted to guard our relationship and keep it private.

I wish I had stressed that more. Maybe then this wouldn’t be happening.

I don’t know the answer and don’t need one. You wanted out and did what was best for you. I see that now.

Just as you say: First and foremost, always do what’s in your best interest. And for that, I should’ve seen this coming.

Know I’ll always value everything you’ve taught me and helped me move past. Trust that means the world to me.

Jax, I will always love you.

That isn’t me begging or pleading for another chance. It’s me being brave enough to say what’s in the core of my heart. Probably something I should’ve said months ago but wasn’t courageous enough to express.

Goodbye, Jaxon Crowne. You’ll always be a king to me. Thank you for all the great memories.

With all my love and appreciation always,

Livianna

My limbs go numb and I lose my breath. This letter is full of false beliefs and assumptions that are so far off base. I can’t begin to formulate my thoughts, let alone my feelings about it.

By trying to honor her and show her she had agency over herself and her life while I was gone, I ruined everything. I pick up my drink and slam it back.

I went about everything so wrong. Instead of being her boyfriend, lover, and partner, I acted like a superior being who thought I knew what would be best for her. A wave of emptiness filters through me.

Why didn’t I just tell her how I feel? Why did I think I knew better than her what was right for us?

I sit back in my seat as I try to let my emotions flow through me so I can find the solution without being in reactive mode. The problem is this isn’t a business deal gone wrong or a materialistic item that doesn’t really matter.

This is Livianna, and she’s a person. My person. A beautiful, smart, sexy, receptive woman whom I love to the depths of my soul.

Her home won’t be ready for another week, so she still has to be living in the beach house. My driver pulls up at midnight. There’s a dim light coming from the bedroom, shining from the front window. It appears to be the only thing illuminating the space.

Hopefully, that means she’s awake and we can have a much-needed discussion. I grab my bags and stride to the front door.

For a minute, I consider knocking, but I check the locked enclosure where we keep the extra key. I punch the code, and the tiny door that meshes with the siding of the house near the doorbell opens.

The key remains inside. I pray that’s a sign she’s willing and wanting me to use it since I’m the only one who knows how to access it.

Once I get up enough nerve and calm my racing heart, I enter. There’s soft, meditative music playing in the background. I place my bags down and venture toward the bedroom.

The lamp on the bedside table gives off a soft, relaxing glow. Water from the shower runs and the trickling of it hitting the walls and going down the drain echoes into the bedroom.

I should wait for her to come out, but I need to see her and explain myself. I knock on the door of the en suite to alert her that I’m here.

She spins and peers out through the glass into the mirror. The second her eyes meet my longing gaze, she gasps.