The One After [SHAWN MENDES]

Chapter 58

He said he loves me.

Shawn actually said the words

I've never wanted anything more in my life, yet for some reason...it doesn't feel right.

Is it because he said it when I was falling apart?

Or because it was only in response to me pathetically bringing up how I feel again?

I don't want pity-love.

I want love that's like exploding fireworks.

I want love that doesn't leave me with doubts.

I want love that inspires songs.

I need to be loved for who I am, not because he misses me or is lonely.

I want it to be easy, not so painfully hard.

I don't want to feel like he's settling for me after having lost the person he truly loves.

Mostly I want him to love me more than he's loved anyone else, and I know that's not possible.

The pages of my journal were stained with teardrops by the time I was done pouring my thoughts out. I set it aside and curled up in a fetal position in my bed, crying until the fatigue of my outburst sent me into a deep sleep. When I woke up hours later, I had to pee, which meant exiting my bedroom.

As I opened the door, I was struck by the smell of burning food. I bypassed the bathroom and went to the kitchen where Shawn was standing by the stove wearing my turquoise apron.

"I wanted to make us dinner, but it's not going very well," he said sheepishly when he saw me.

"What is that?" I asked as I peered at the pan.

"It was supposed to be a buckwheat crepe, but it stuck to the pan and turned black."

"Don't crepes have milk and eggs? What did you use as substitutes?"

"Water," he answered. "And I might have forgotten to use oil before pouring it in."

"You combined buckwheat flour and water and put it in an ungreased pan thought it would work?" I found myself smiling.

"It looked like the right consistency."

I removed the pan and ran it under water in the sink before opening my fridge. Nothing in there worked for him, so I moved to the pantry. "I have two cans of vegetarian refried beans and some corn tortillas. I can make some huevos rancheros, though yours won't have cheese or eggs."

"I didn't want you to have to cook," he replied dejectedly.

"Your only other options include gluten, meat, or dairy."

"I can cheat today. Let me make us eggs. You have some feta and spinach, which I was was going to put in the crepes. I can add them to an omelet instead."

"Okay, but we're cooking together. I don't want my kitchen set on fire," I told him, only half jokingly.

I went to pee and then we got to work. Before long we had a decent dinner which we ate at my small dining table.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"What makes you think I was napping?"

"You still have pillow creases on your face. Your eyes are swollen, so I'm guessing you cried, too?"

"A little. I was writing and it got me worked up all over again," I explained without making eye contact.

"Do you want to talk about it?"