It was too much. I was young and in my prime and working a job that would keep my appetite well fed.
I was ready to end it too the next night. But, my God, her smile and the way she laughed at me when I pulled up wearing an old rugby shirt. She thought it was the oddest thing and I’ll never forget the way her soft voice hummed with laughter and it carried into the night. Who was I to take that away? I knew she’d end it with me anyway. I didn’t know it would be after marriage and five years later.
If I could go back to that night, I would change it all.
“I’m heading to bed.” My father’s voice catches me off guard and my body jolts from the memory. I pretend to rub the sleep from my burning eyes and clear my throat to tell my father good night. It’s tight with emotion and it takes me a second to sit up in bed.
“You look like hell,” Pops says.
My head nods and I take a moment to set my feet on the floor. My head is still hung low and my shoulders are sagging as I rest my elbows on my knees.
“How did you keep mom out of it? All the stupid shit you did?” I ask him. I know he led a wild life. He’s got the stories and the scars to prove it.
I lift my head and look him in the eyes, forcing a small smile to my face. “I need to know what to do. I need advice.”
“You can’t. It’s gotta stop.” He shrugs his shoulders, the faint light from the hallway casting a long shadow of him into the room, ending at my feet. “That’s the advice I can give you. Don’t keep a damn thing from her. You should already know that.”
I swallow, or try to, as a ball of spikes grows in my throat. “What if you can’t stop? What if I can’t quit this job and this life?” The image of Tony dead on the floor stays firm in my sight. Even as I blink it away and look up at my father, I can still see him. Overdosed and staring back at me as if it was my fault.
I brought him to that room. The one reserved for partying in our company.
I gave him the coke, but I didn’t know it was laced. And then I left him there to get whiskey and cigarettes.
I brought him to his death.
I can never tell her that. I can barely admit it to myself.
“Did you ever mess up so bad, you thought you could never make it right?” I ask, even though his answer doesn’t matter. I guess I just don’t want to feel so alone.
“We all do; you just find a way. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Find a way …” I say the words softly, barely moving my lips as I look at the edge of the comforter, wishing it were that easy.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Evan. I did everything for your mom, and I’d do it all again. Maybe that’s where you went wrong?”
“What’s that?” I’m quick to ask him, my gaze focused on him and whatever it is he has to say. I’m desperate for an answer to all this shit. I need to take it all back.
“You weren’t thinking about her.”
His words sink in slow, but deep.
I shake my head and agree, “No, I wasn’t.”
“The best thing you ever did was marry that girl.” I nod my head, feeling a jagged pain move through my body. “Worse thing she ever did was let you leave her side.”
He doesn’t know how true his words are.
Chapter Twenty-One
KAT
You left a space beside me,
You left me all alone.
You left a space beside me,
I thought my heart would turn to stone.
You left a space beside me,
Desire creeps in the night.
You left a space beside me,
Lust fills the emptiness just right.
The moon looks gorgeous. The colors of autumn are sitting on the city skyline and the beautiful hues of orange and soft reds travel up to the bright full moon.
It’s early for it to be out, but as I walk away from the townhouse, down the stone steps as the heavy walnut door shuts behind me, I can’t help but stare at it. There’s beauty in nature and having the small bit of it above the city is something I’ve taken for granted for so long.
With each step my boots click on the concrete, until my body stumbles forward and I nearly fall down the last two stairs.
“Shit!” I cry out as I frantically reach for the iron rail and just barely get a grip tight enough to keep me upright. My purse is flung down to the crook of my arm, spilling odds and ends and my phone onto the busy street.
I mutter beneath my breath as my cheeks heat with embarrassment and I keep my head down. Most people walk around me, and I’m fine with that. Better than fine. I’m happy that they’re just ignoring me and my stupid fall.
I crouch down low to grab the fallen items, ignoring them as they do with me, but as I stand up I realize someone didn’t miss my fall and their eyes haven’t left me.
“You okay?” Jacob says as he comes toward me, nearly out of breath. His cheeks are a brighter red than they were before, the chill of the air getting to him. His hand is cold on my shoulder as he helps me stand upright. His thick, black wool jacket brushes against mine and the heavy scent of pine, a masculine fragrance I love, fills my lungs.
“I saw you from across the street,” he tells me as I blink away my surprise. Not only from his presence, but from my reaction.
I brush the hair from my face and give him a grateful smile as the crowd continues to walk around us. As I clear my throat, Jacob walks backward with me to stand on the stairs.
“I’m so clumsy,” I breathe out and reluctantly laugh at myself as I steady the bag back onto my shoulder.
Jacob shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets as he says, “I expected worse.” As he speaks, his perfect teeth show, and I can’t help but eye his lush lips. “Honestly, that was a nice save.”
A warmth flows through me, but the breeze makes it feel hotter than it should.
“Well thanks,” I say, shifting my weight and shaking my head. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m checking out a townhouse down here. Moving to the city was definitely the right move for me.”
“And have you thought of the contract at all?” I ask him and then bite the inside of my cheek. “I don’t mean to be forward. I’m just excited to work together,” I add.
I don’t miss how his eyes stray slightly to my breasts when I breathe in deep. He looks away, toward the street to try to play it off and licks his lower lip. Maybe it was a subconscious thing on my part. I almost feel the need to apologize.
“I’m thinking I should get to signing it. I just was hoping maybe we could meet up to go over a few minor details?” he asks as he turns his attention back to me.
I smile and nod my head, my hair falling back in front of my shoulders. “I’d be happy to,” I answer a little too eagerly. His eyes flash with something they shouldn’t. But I ignore it.
“Well, I should get going,” the words rush out of my mouth.
“Me too,” Jacob says and looks back across the street. “My realtor is over there somewhere waiting on the steps to let me in to ‘my dream home,’” he says, mimicking what must be his realtor’s nasally voice, and then gives me another view of his gorgeous smile.
“Be safe,” he says comically and then takes a few steps forward. “I’ll text you,” he says over his shoulder and I simply nod. Not able to speak, just standing there, gripping on to my purse strap with both hands and wondering why he gets to me so much.
I won’t deny that he does.
And that’s not the part that bothers me.
It’s why. Is it him? The timing?
What is it about Jacob that makes me want him, when I haven’t lusted for a man in years? Well, other than my husband.
Chapter Twenty-Two
EVAN
What’s left behind but ashes,
When you’ve burned all around?
What’s to be done about destruction,
When your hope has been drowned?
The light is getting dimmer,
The end so close
it seems.
There’s nothing left but silent chaos,
Forgiveness lost in the screams.
“Have you tried roses?”
My gaze moves from the cell phone in my hand to my father. With his arm braced against the wall, he taps his knuckles against the drywall.
“I’m not sure roses are going to help me,” I reply and give him a weak smile.
“You’d be surprised. Flowers are a girl’s best friend.”
A small, but genuine smile graces my lips as I toss the phone onto the end table. “It’s diamonds, Pops. The saying is diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
“Then get her diamonds,” he says with a shrug, then makes his way to the worn, caramel leather recliner in the corner of the living room. The game’s on the TV. I’m not sure who’s playing since the volume is so low I can barely hear it.
“She still hasn’t messaged you back?” he asks.
“Nothing yet,” I say low and then look back at the phone, wishing it would go off.
“You going back home to talk? Or what’s the plan?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I know she wants space; I just don’t know if it’s what’s best.”
He nods his head and says, “It’s hard to know. Especially when she’s not talking to you.”
“I wouldn’t talk to me neither,” I tell him, mostly out of the need to defend her. “I’d kick me out.”
“It was a long time ago,” my father says, but there’s little conviction in his voice.
It’s quiet for longer than I’d like. Both of us not knowing where to go in the conversation.
“I remember when you moved in with her,” Pops finally says and breaks the silence.
“It feels like forever ago. I hardly even remember what it was like before her.”
“Feels like it just happened to me. All the boxes and her wanting to paint first and then wanting everything in a certain order. She sure has a way of going about things.”
I lean my head back, staring at the ceiling fan as I say, “Yeah she does,” with a hint of a smile on my lips. “She’s particular.”
“That’s a word for it,” Pops says back, not missing a beat.
“You love her though.”
He nods his head. “I love her for it, too.” He clears his throat and says, “I never told you this, but I felt like I’d lost your mother and then lost you.”
“Pops, no–” I try to stop that shit, but he’s already moved on before I can get a thought out.
“It was a short-lived feeling. Kat came over more than you did after the move, if you remember.”
“She’s the one who wanted the family dinners. I remember her pushing for that.”
“Probably wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for her.”
“I think she was just trying to make things right.”
“I know she was. She’s a lot like your mother in that regard. You did good picking her.”
I can’t respond to my father. He’s never talked to me about Kat really. Now, of all times, it’s just making the pain that much worse.
“You remember that heavy ass dresser?” Pops asks me and it makes me huff a laugh as I nod. More than anything I’m thankful for the change in topic.
“She had to have it,” I say absently. “It was her mother’s.”
“Oh, I know. I remember her telling me a dozen times.”
“She kept talking about the movers.” I shake my head. “We didn’t need any movers.”
“Sure, sure. I remember that squabble.”
“Squabble,” I repeat and run my hand over my hair. “She knew I could handle it.”
Pops laughs at the thought. A deep laugh, and then he leans back in his chair.
“You guys can handle that, you guys can handle anything,” Pops says.
“It feels different though, Pops.” I swallow and fight back the swell of emotion. “This isn’t just a fight.”
“How would you know?” he asks me. “You haven’t even really had a fight, have you?”
I stare at him blankly, knowing me and Kat haven’t ever gone at it before, not really. A little bickering here or there. But this isn’t some argument over dishes. This is worse than he can imagine, and I’m ashamed to even speak the truth.
I’m ashamed to tell him how I really feel too. Like it’s hopeless.
“Just get her something shiny. Spoil the woman,” he says, throwing his hand up.
I let a trace of a smile linger on my lips as I picture handing Kat a bouquet of roses. I’d pick the really dark red ones, but make sure there’s some baby’s breath in the package too. One of the real big bouquets. The ones that make you lean in and smell them. Too good to resist. That’s the kind I’d get her.
I can see her soft smile as she peeks up at me, holding it in both her hands.
A warmth settles through me. I wish it were that easy. I’d buy every flower I could if that were the case.
“Whatever you do,” Pops says, distracting me from the vision of Kat forgiving me. “Just don’t give up.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
KAT
The past holds me captive,
I just want to forget.
But I’ll settle and forgive,
I still love you, and yet.
I can’t help but to feel torn apart,
When you promise me no more lies.
Make sure you cross your heart,
Make sure you hope to die.
My fingers keep tapping on my phone and my gaze keeps drifting to the door. He’s coming. Soon, too.
Evan needs to get his shit and get out. Mistake after mistake after mistake. That’s what this relationship has been. There’s undeniable love between us. I won’t argue with that. But some people aren’t meant to be together and at this point in my life, I should be concerned with having children and not the possibility of having to bail my husband out of jail.
There’s a bit of anger that’s carried me throughout the last two days. It’s what I focus on. It’s what gives me the strength to tell him I don’t want him anymore. To tell him it doesn’t matter when he tells me that he loves me.
I know it matters, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’ll always want him. I’ll always want to feel loved like I did when we first got together.
But there’s only one way for the story of the two of us to end. And that’s with him packing his shit and getting out.
As if he heard my thought, the front doorknob jiggles and the sound of keys clinking creeps into the room.
Fate hates me. It must fucking loathe me because the sight of my husband standing in our doorway shatters my heart.
I try to keep my expression cold, but my body goes numb and the same coldness that swept over my body only weeks ago when I felt my marriage falling apart drifts over my skin now. His eyes are nearly bloodshot. He can’t even force a look of anything but agony as he turns his gaze from me and walks slowly into the room, closing the door behind him. I can’t look him in the eyes. His disheveled hair and all-around rough appearance make my body itch to touch him. To comfort him. To make the obvious pain go away.
I think that’s why I’ll never be able to deny that I love him. The image of him in pain destroys me to my core. My soul hurts for his, and I want nothing more than to take his pain away.
I need to love myself more than I could ever love him. And I’m trying to. My God, am I trying to.
“Hi,” I’m the first to say a word and break the uneasy tension in the living room.
He nods his head as he tosses his keys down on the coffee table and stands awkwardly in front of me.
“How are you?” he asks me and it feels so odd. Like we’re just old friends or acquaintances. I have to swallow the tightness in my throat and ignore the heat flowing through my body, begging me to give in.
“Not the best,” I answer him. I try to find that anger, I remember everything as my eyes shift to the entrance to the dining room, but there’s not an ou
nce of anger that will come to my rescue.
“I miss you,” he says as the last word spills from my lips. He doesn’t try to hide the desperation.
“I miss you too,” I admit, letting my words crack and then lick my lips.
“Things have gotten rough, but I never stopped loving you.” His words are raw, coming from a damaged man. “You’re the only thing that matters.”
“What you say is so right, Evan. But it’s what you’ve done that makes it impossible for me to stay with you.”
His boots smack on the hardwood floor as he makes his way to me. And I don’t move. I don’t object. I even lean into him slightly when he sits down next to me. At first he’s pointed away, his elbows on his knees but then he looks at me with a hurt in his eyes that makes me inch closer to him, and he does the same.
I may be angry about what he’s done. What I’ve done as well. But no amount of anger can outweigh the pain we both feel in this moment.
The pain from knowing we’re damaged beyond repair.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he asks me and then takes a chance, moving his large hand to my thigh and gently rubbing his thumb back and forth.
“I already have,” I tell him and feel slightly less strong. Weak for being okay with what’s happened. Or at least for accepting it.
“Do you just not love me anymore then?” he asks me, his eyes piercing into mine and holding me captive.
My lungs stay still and the words hang on the tip of my tongue. They’re too afraid to leave me. I’m so weak for him, so bendable and disposable. If I admit such a flaw, he may never give me a fighting chance for something more.
And what’s worse, I may be content with that.
“Please just tell me you love me,” Evan whispers. “I know I fuck up, more than I should. But please don’t stop loving me.”
“I’ve never felt so alone,” I tell him and mean every word. It’s one thing to be left alone. It’s quite another to choose it. And in this moment, I don’t want it. I don’t want to be alone another day, but I know I have to.
“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be mad at you,” I tell him, wiping from under my eyes and leaning my body into his. He kisses my forehead before enveloping me into his arms. And I let him. My biggest flaw.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 126