Starved for affection and a sinking feeling

He was clean. He hadn't snorted or ingested any pills in a while. He was ready to return to work, right? Or so I thought.

He had been out of work for a few weeks and was getting stir-crazy. While I was at work, he'd go on walks and explore the city. The fresh air seemed to help. He even started cooking for me again and the apartment was cleaner than it had ever been. It looked like all of the time I had invested in him was paying off.

He'd definitely have to appreciate me now, right? So why was he still being distant?

I'd come home and he'd kiss me, but that was the extent of it. I knew that there were certain things that were beyond his control as far as the addiction and coming clean was concerned, but I needed to feel loved. I needed to feel like I mattered. So, as a rational, intelligent, level-headed woman, I decided to give him even more of myself.

He'd have to show me love then.

I helped him put together a new resume and find him a job. He was pretty charming when he wanted to be, so I knew he'd land the interview once he get it. And I was right.

I wanted to let him know how proud of him I was and celebrate his sobriety and efforts toward creating a better life for himself. He deserved it.

While detoxing, he confessed that the restaurant industry was rampant with drugs. Together, we decided that it might make more sense for him to get a job in an office. A new environment would mean less temptation. Less temptation meant less of a chance of a relapse. I was all in.

I took him shopping. I bought him a whole new wardrobe. New button-down shirts, slacks, ties and shoes. I wanted to set him up for success. With all the hours I was putting in, despite footing the bill for everything — aside from Netflix, which as it turns out, he wasn't paying for anyways — I could afford it.

He seemed to enjoy getting dressed up and going to work. Each day I brought him to work, he'd ask for a little more money. Another coffee. Another breakfast sandwich. Lunch.

A few days in, I started to worry though. He complained about a couple of women that, like other jobs in the past, were out to get him. Between his displeasure of some colleagues and requests for more money, I wanted to reinforce how important it was that he had a job. Since I had to go into work later that day, I decided to take him out to lunch. I sent him a text a little before I got there, to let him know I was on my way. When I arrived, he was talking to a driver of a car that handed him something. That feeling, the one you feel deep in the pit of your stomach, was sending anxiety throughout my body.

Is this actually happening? But he's clean. He would have told me if he wanted to use. He promised. You're being crazy.

When he spotted me, he shot me that manipulating smile of his. He knew I saw, but he was going to convince me otherwise.

"Babe. WHAT THE FUCK. YOU'RE SUCH A FREAK. RELAAAX."

"Sorry, it's just ... I thought ..."

"YOU ARE FUCKING NUTS. MY GOD. AM I NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE FRIENDS?"

"I'm sorry, you're right. Please, please don't be mad ... I'll make it up to you with lunch. I promise. I'm sorry."

I always started to cry when he'd get like this.

He made me feel so crazy. I'll make it up to him. He's right. I am crazy. I should just trust him. God, why am I like this?

"JESUS EMILY, IT'S FINE.," he said while giving me a hard shove. "I'm starving."

And just like that, I didn't trust myself. Not what I saw or felt. After all, I was the one that was lucky he still wanted me around.

Understand, while I felt like crap about myself, deep down, I was constantly suspicious.

Over the weekend, we were trying to decide what to do for the day. I can't remember if I had the day off from the restaurant or I just got out early, but I was home during daylight hours. He got a phone call. Since his phone was always on him, he hit ignore.

"Wrong number," he said, while punching a bunch of buttons on the phone.

He was anxious and his eyes were darting around the room. He started moving things around on his nightstand. Apparently he forgot some paperwork in my car that he needed to process before we did anything else.

"I'll be right back and then we'll go," he said, plating an over-the-top kiss on my lips and bending me backwards. "I love you babygirl."

I was so starved for attention that I swooned.

As soon as he darted out the front door though, that feeling was back. I don't know why, but I felt the need to check on him. Moving from the kitchen to the living room, I watched a parked car drive on the street beside our building and park on the hill adjacent to our street. Tucking myself next to the wall beside the window in the living room, I peered out the window to watch him walk over to the car — not my car. This time, a passenger handed him something. In exchange, he slapped the passenger's hand with cash it.

What is that? It can't be drugs ... he's clean. What could it be?

He lied to me.