Lucky Stars

The week in Hawaii flew by, filled with amazing food, beautiful scenery and experiences I would never forget. More than once we were mistaken for newlyweds. We had the best time and other people could see our love.

As much as I loved Hawaii, I didn't mind going home. Toby was my home. We were just as happy at home as we were on vacation.

Several months after our trip, we started discussing buying a house. I wanted to buy a house with him, but it made me start really thinking about getting married. I brought it up and we both agreed it was our future. We would be married at some point. But neither of us felt the need to do things in any particular order.

We found a house. It was a dream house and way more than we planned on spending on our first place. We didn't agree and it nearly caused fights.

I wasn't comfortable buying something so expensive. He really wanted the house and tried to convince me we were just skipping the starter home and that we would be fine.

A month later we had the biggest fight of our relationship. Toby, with the best of intentions, made a big, life changing decision for us, without talking to me about it. He bought the house. In his name only.

I understood why he thought it was a good idea, in theory, but he refused to understand why I was upset anyway. We yelled for an hour. We gave each other the silent treatment until we both went to bed.

In bed, we apologized, made up and made love tenderly. We both knew it wasn't resolved, but we knew we'd figure it out.

Shortly before our second anniversary, we moved into the dream house that Toby owned. It was our house even though it wasn't. I eventually made myself just get over it. Life went on happily from there.

As we passed our third anniversary and we both turned 28, our careers were booming. We were making great money and had a nice nest egg in savings. Our family life and social circle saw us as a unit, which we both loved. Toby and Oliver.

Even three years in, our sex life was still fire. We never made lame excuses. We made time to love each other. And when we were fucking or making love, we were completely together. We didn't come together while being distracted. It was the best part of my life with Toby. I felt completely loved. I gave him my everything in return.

He went on a long tour with a huge band and the distance was terrible. We talked twice a day, at least. We had lots of video call sex. He flew home a few times when they had a rare three day gap. I flew out to meet him as often as possible.

We worked hard to stay strong and we did great. It was hard and both of us missed the other terribly, but we came out on the other side unscathed. Our relationship got even stronger.

Our fourth anniversary came when I was going to be in Europe, on a buying trip for the designer I worked for. Toby accompanied me, for two weeks, as I shopped in the fabric capitals of the world.

We had sex in five different countries in those two weeks, six if you include the states. Toby wanted to join the mile high club as we crossed the Atlantic. But I said no. We were always way too loud the minute we touched. I didn't want to get arrested as soon as we touched down in London.

I relented and we fucked in a restroom in the airport once we landed. It was loud and ridiculously funny and sexy. I loved that Toby and I had these crazy adventures together.

We flew home exhausted. On the flight back across the ocean we had a long talk about marriage. He told me he wanted to ask me, and he planned to do it soon. Once we finally got home to Los Angeles, we fell into bed and slept like the dead.

The next day, I woke up to Toby sucking my morning wood and fingering my tight ring. I rolled over onto my stomach and he took me from behind. We both came as hard as ever. I felt like the luckiest guy on earth, but Toby insisted he was the luckiest.

Our fifth anniversary was on my thirtieth birthday. Toby had been acting oddly for a few weeks and I just knew he was going to propose. I tried to stay calm and act like I wasn't expecting it.

The day before our anniversary, Toby came home late, feeling sick. I felt terrible for him. I got him into bed and fussed over him. He eventually asked me to just let him be, so I did. He took a long nap. I hoped he'd feel better for tomorrow.

In the morning he seemed mostly normal. I tried to instigate sex but he seemed oblivious and he got up and went about his day, like normal. I knew he was getting nervous for tonight. I didn't worry too much about how weird he was.

He asked me to meet him at the restaurant as his work was running late. I agreed and smiled to myself. This had to be part of the surprise he planned, somehow. I was dressed in my most fashionable things in case there was a photographer.

I got seated at the restaurant and he joined me about twenty minutes late. He was very apologetic about work running late. We ordered food and enjoyed the meal. We had dessert and still nothing had happened.

We left the restaurant and since we had separate cars, he decided to go back to work for a while because he was in the middle of a big project. I thought he was joking when he said that.

I started to get mad, but I kept thinking he was going to drop to his knee at any minute. Instead he told me I was being unreasonable and he got in his car and went back to work.

I got in my car and went home. Alone. On my thirtieth birthday. On my fifth anniversary. I went home and went to bed alone. I cried myself to sleep. He was next to me when I woke up in the morning. But something was wrong.

He wouldn't look at me. He pretended to be asleep. I finally just got up and got ready for work and left. When I got home that night, he was waiting for me.

He sat me down on the couch. I felt my head bursting into flames while my hands and feet were solid blocks of ice. I could barely hear. I felt black creeping up in the periphery of my vision. I was filled with so much dread.

"Oliver, I'm sorry I've been so distant the last few days." He stared at his feet. "I've had a lot on my mind and I've had to make some decisions for myself."

"What do you mean by decisions for yourself?"

"Ummmmm. Well, you see.... You know I love you." He trailed off.

"What the fuck is going on, Toby? Just tell me!" I was starting to panic.

"I met someone!" He yelled it back at my panicked question.

I gasped so hard, I nearly choked on it. "You're cheating on me?" I was crying instantly.

His head shot up. "No, I've never cheated on you Oliver. I swear to you. I've been faithful every single day since we started dating five years ago!"

"What do you mean that you met someone, then? What the fuck, Toby?!?"

He stood up, one hand gripping the back of his neck. "I did! I met someone. And I think I want to be with him. I would never cheat, so I am telling you that I want to be with him."

I was in shock. "Are you seriously fucking breaking up with me because you want to fuck some other guy?" I was standing now and screaming. "Seriously, after five years? After five really amazing years?!?!"

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I didn't plan on meeting someone else. I never thought I'd want anyone else. I know it's horrible of me, but I want him. I wanted to break it off with you first, before I told him."

My brain wouldn't work. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. He just pulled the rug out from underneath my whole life. I turned around and ran to the bedroom and slammed the door. He never even tried to knock.

He was gone. He called me the next day and I didn't answer. He left me a voicemail telling me I could have two months to stay in the house and find somewhere else to live. If I needed more time, I just needed to let him know.

I rented a place and put all my stuff in storage. I didn't take any of his things. I didn't break a single thing before I left. I just packed my life into a storage spot and moved into a lonely one bedroom within a week. I texted him that I was moved out. I threw my phone into the ocean.

A few days later I got a new phone and a new number. Several of our mutual friends contacted me through social media to ask what the fuck had happened. I told them they would need to ask Toby, because I had no idea.

I was shell shocked for months. My work suffered. I lost weight. I refused to talk to anyone that knew Toby. I drove past his house several times a week. I felt sick every time I did it, but I couldn't stop.

A work friend sent my resume to a designer in New York. The first I knew of it, is when I got the call to set up an interview. I jumped at the opportunity and flew out for the meeting. I got the job offer over dinner that night, following the official interview.

I took the job and a month later, I was flying to New York on a one way ticket. I cut ties with nearly everyone in California. I stayed in touch with some work friends, but that was it.

I worked my fingers to the bone. I worked to fill all the voids in my life. If I sat down for too long, the memories would haunt me and they'd eat me alive. I moved until I collapsed. As soon as I woke up, I started moving again. It was exhausting, but it was the only way I could function now.

New friends just thought I was a workaholic. None of them knew the old, happy me. They all assumed this crazy need to work and refusal to have a social life was just who I was. No one knew how different I had become.

I was now a bitchy, bitter fashion queen. I was over thirty, alone, gaunt and introverted. I was the opposite of myself. I hated life without Toby. The thought that broke into my conscious constantly, no matter how busy I kept, was why?

Why did he throw what we had away? We had an amazing relationship, with mind numbing sex. We were really happy. I didn't imagine it. Our happiness was real. How did it fail so suddenly? I was always going to be devastated. I would never get over this.

A year after the break up, I still had a terrible time dealing with it. I had gotten a tiny bit less bitter, but only on the outside. I was able to act more like the old me when I was around other people. But I still avoided being stagnant. It still frightened me to be alone with my thoughts.

I tried to date and failed. I tried to start drinking, but I failed at that too. I just wasn't one for getting drunk. I just worked, all the time, even a year later.

One day, Ruby showed up in our design studio. They were doing freelance photography and had been hired by another designer that worked out of the same building. Ruby had heard my name mentioned and had come to find me.

They took me out to lunch and asked me no less than a million questions. They were so concerned about how much I had changed. I tried to reassure them that this was just who I was now.

I was forever changed. I was incapable of being truly happy. I could be happy about work things, but I didn't care to be happy about anything else. I wasn't actually happy, ever.

Ruby and I stayed in touch even after they went back to Los Angeles. It was the first thing that felt normal in over a year.

A coworker tried to date me. I refused him outright. Another friend tried to get me to date anyone, in general. But I didn't want to. I wouldn't ever find what I had had. And if I did, it wouldn't last. I had perfection and it still didn't last. Why bother?

The months in New York blended together until three years had gone by. I was now thirty three and utterly alone and still miserable. My career was incredible. I made loads of money. I was a true New York success. I made it in the big city. Who the fuck cares?

One night in October, I got a call from an unknown number. It made my skin crawl for some reason. I got unknown callers and solicitors all the time, but this call had my hackles up. I answered it.

"Hello."

"Hello, may I please speak with Mr. Oliver Weston?"

"This is Oliver Weston."

"Mr. Weston, I'm calling from LAPD. Do you know a Tobias Montgomery?"

Toby? What the fuck was the Los Angeles police calling me about Toby for?

"Umm, yes. I know him."

"He has you listed as an emergency contact."

My brain went blank. My ears were ringing. I felt faint.

"Mr. Weston, I'm sorry to tell you that Mr. Montgomery was in a terrible accident and he's in the hospital. You'll need to contact the hospital for further details on his condition. I do know he is unconscious and the hospital wants you to answer some questions."

I got all the information and after I ended the call with the police, I called the hospital. I hadn't heard from Toby in three years. He still had me listed as his emergency contact. I was in shock, but I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He was the love of my life, I couldn't wish him ill, even now.

The hospital started asking me questions and then the nurse abruptly put me on hold. I hung up and called back and I couldn't get through. I kept getting sent to voicemail. The receptionist kept saying it was a shift change, but I was told that several times over several hours.

I decided to get on the next plane to LA. I knew Toby's estranged father was in San Francisco, but I didn't even know his name. I had to get there to start to figure it all out. I flew back west filled with fears and dread and confusion.

When I landed and turned on my phone, I had several new voicemails. The first one was a hang up. The second one, from the same number was Toby! It was jumbled and I couldn't figure it out. I called the hospital to see what was going on and they told me he was still unconscious.

I tried to call the number that Toby had called from. It kept going directly to voicemail. I caught an Uber to the hospital. I found out Toby was in the Intensive Care Unit. I went up to his floor and approached the nurses station.

The nurse was on the phone and had given me the "wait" finger, so I stood and waited while she dealt with her phone call.

"Oliver?" I heard that most familiar voice say from behind me. I spun around and stared at him.

Toby was standing there, in tight jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked older but the same. He was clearly not unconscious.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you get my voicemail?" He asked.

"I got it, but it was staticy and jumbled. I was already at LAX, so I just came here. I tried to call back." I trailed off.

"My god-damned voice mail must be full again."

"Toby. Why did the police call me as your emergency contact?" I was getting a little bit pissed now that the initial shock was wearing off.

"I don't even know what they had with your name on it. It's my dad. He's had a stroke and crashed his car and they called you because he and I have the same name. They thought he was me."

"Oh, I see." I was so tired and now I was standing in front of Toby. I was about ready to freak out.

"Will you sit with me in the waiting area for a while?" He asked tentatively.

I wanted to run away, but I was too tired and too curious. I nodded and followed him to the small family lounge room.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again, Oliver." He said after we had sat down.

"Yeah, me neither." I looked at my hands in my lap.

"I heard you're living in New York."

"Yes." Our whole conversation was so stunted and difficult.

"Thank you for coming. You thought it was me and you still came."

"I didn't know what else to do." That was the truth. The silence stretched in front of us for the next five minutes. Neither of us knew what to say.

I stood up. "I'm going to go. I hope your dad is alright." I turned and started to leave.

"Wait! Oliver!" He jumped up and grabbed my arm.

I turned back to look at him and I couldn't help the tears that were pouring out of my eyes. "What?" I said as a harsh whisper.

"Please don't go. Please, Olivier. I need to explain everything to you." He was crying now too.

"Oh, is that what you need, Toby?" I was super sarcastic. "You got what you wanted last time so it's my turn. And I want to go back to NYC."

He still had his hand on my arm. My words said I was leaving but my feet were rooted to the spot. I wanted to punch his face in. I wanted to hug him tight. I wanted to kiss him hard. I wanted to flee. And I still stood there.

"Oliver, come back to my place so we can talk in private, please." He was trying to sound calm, but I knew him better than that. He was equally upset.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You think I want to go back to that house you bought without me? The one you kicked me out of when you decided five years meant nothing to you!" I was fully blubbering now.

"I don't live there anymore. I hated it after you left. Please, Oliver. You need to yell at me and I need you to. Let's go somewhere private, please!" He was pleading and I didn't care and I couldn't help but care too fucking much.

I nodded once and he dropped his hand. I silently followed him through the hospital corridors. I walked a step behind, staring at the floor. I felt the heat from outside before I realized we were passing through the door to the parking lot.

Toby held the door of his car open for me and I sat down in the familiar passenger seat. It was the same car he had when he left me. I heard him ask me if I was hungry, but I just looked out the window in my door.

I don't know how long we drove. I couldn't pay attention to where we were in the city. I smelled the bag of food as he set it in my lap, but I didn't even hear him order it in the drive thru. I absentmindedly held onto the bag as we continued to drive.

He pulled into a driveway at a tiny unfamiliar house. He came around and opened my door. He took the bag of food and waited patiently while I climbed out of the car. I followed him through the side door into a kitchen.

Even though I had never been here, it felt familiar. It smelled like Toby in here. He broke my trance when he spoke.

"Please eat. When was the last time you ate?" He started to pull the burgers out of the bag. I honestly didn't know what day it was or when I had last eaten. My body betrayed me and my stomach growled loudly.

He grabbed the loose food and took it to a coffee table and he sat on a long couch. As I followed him from the kitchen into the living room I couldn't help but look around. I wondered if he lived here with him. After all this time, I didn't even know the other guy's name.

I perched on the edge of the couch, as far away from him as I could be. He pushed my food down the coffee table towards me. I looked at it for the first time. It was my usual from McDonald's, just like old times. We knew what the other liked from all the fast food places.

I picked up my burger and took a bite. I grabbed a few fries and shoved them in my mouth. As I took a second bite of my burger, I burst into tears. I had to spit the food in my mouth into a napkin because I was crying too hard to chew or swallow.

I dropped my face into my hands and cried harder. My whole body shook with my sobs. I could hear Toby talking but I couldn't tell you what he was saying. I was fully breaking down.

I don't know how long I cried. After a while, when I was able to calm down to regular crying, I realized his arms were around me and I was leaning into his chest. He was mumbling soft words to me as he held me.

"Don't." It was all I could say. It didn't sound convincing, even to my own ears.

"Shhhh." He held me tighter. I could feel his tears hitting the side of my head as they rolled down his face into my hair. I'm not sure if minutes or hours passed, but he held me tight the whole time, as we both cried.

We had been everything to each other and then without warning, it just ended abruptly. He had crushed me. He destroyed my whole world and he took everything I ever wanted away from me. I needed to know why, after all this time, I was going to ask why.