by Ruby Rowe
“Love you, too.”
Ending the call, I rest my head against the seat. Elliott’s probably here, which means I’ll soon have to face him, and I don’t know what I’ll say after what happened at the beginning of the week.
The night I was drunk and we talked in my room, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. When he turned to leave, I spotted the anchor tattoo on the back of his shoulder. Did he get that because of me?
Then, the next morning, I walked into the bathroom to shower, and a sticky note was stuck on the mirror over the vanity. Reaching in my purse, I pull out the note to read it again. I’ve been carrying it with me ever since.
I’ll always remember you on the beach with a plastic container of ripe strawberries in your lap. I used to wonder what you were thinking about as you ate them and stared at the ocean. I wish I’d asked at least once. Eat the strawberries and other food, Sailor. I bought it all for you.
I lean my head back against the seat again and think about the days our housekeeper would pack my sister and me picnic baskets for our trips to the beach. She always included fresh strawberries.
Elliott’s thoughtful gesture and seeing his tattoo caused confusion about my feelings for him, preventing me from being able to give Jake the attention he deserved this week.
I have to find the strength to have a real talk with Elliott. One that will allow us both to move on.
***
I head into the condo and up the stairs to my room. I think I’ll put on my bikini and soak in the hot tub. We finally have a cool enough September day to truly enjoy it.
I come to a stop at my closed bedroom door. Another sticky note... As I pull it off to read it, my heart races.
I hope you won’t be angry at me for what’s on the other side of this door. I’m only trying to make up for the past. I imagine I could never do enough, but I won’t stop trying now that I have the chance.
What the hell did he do? Now that I have the chance… He’s always had the chance.
Opening my door, I gasp. I hear the thump of my purse and messenger bag as they hit the floor. I glance down, and shit, I’m standing on a large rug that wasn’t here before. It’s plush with the colors of light grey and white woven together.
Covering my hammering heart, I attempt to breathe as I take another step inside and look around.
The beach and ocean … Elliott brought them to my bedroom. New white furniture has replaced the old oak set: a queen-size bed, a chest and dresser, and even a comfy chair in the corner. There’s a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall, too.
The décor is not an overkill of blue, like you’d find in a time-share by the beach. Instead, the space is decorated in various shades of sea-glass green, coral and weathered pieces, like driftwood.
The entire wall behind the bed is covered in planks of aged wood in white with a hint of grey and brown. The colors in the room match seamlessly. How the hell did he pull this off in one day?
I walk over to the dresser, and next to my penguin is a jewelry dish with an anchor on it. Admiring the mirror above the dresser, I suck in another breath. I can’t believe he did all this for me.
Tears coat my eyes as I pull the small photo of Rebecca free from where it’s tucked between the corner of the mirror and the wood it’s encased in.
My sister drove me crazy, but I always imagined that if she had lived, we would’ve one day matured and been close, a time when we wouldn’t have fought over stupid shit like wearing each other’s clothes or controlling the TV.
“I figured you lost all your photos in the fire.” Jumping from Elliott’s voice, I wipe my eyes.
“I did.”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s all too much, Elliott.”
“I wish you didn’t hate to look at me.”
Tucking the photo back in the corner of the mirror, I turn to face him.
“I don’t hate it, the same way I don’t hate you. Seeing your face reminds me of all I loved and lost. Thank you for the photo and this amazing room. I can’t fathom how you pulled it off in only a day.”
“I don’t know if you remember, but my mother has her own interior design business. She helped me out.”
He grins, and I admire the first one I’ve seen from him in over a decade. “Her worker bees barely made it out of here before you arrived.”
“That was sweet of her. You’ll have to give me your mom’s address so I can send her a thank you card.” My eyes travel from his smile down to his feet.
He’s in jeans and a light blue polo shirt that hugs his pectorals and arms and enhances the blue around his grey eyes. “Jake told me about your dad passing away.”
“It was a relief. He didn’t deserve to breathe.”
“Elliott … you don’t mean that.”
“I do. Mom and I took his abuse for far too long, and he started the chain reaction that landed you and me here. He did it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say those words to me ever again. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He slides a hand through his silky blond hair. He has a ton of it, but it’s thinner and shinier than Jake’s. Shit, Jake.
I look around the room. “Jake’s not going to understand why you did this for me.”
“It’ll be OK. I’ll make sure.”
“All right. Well, I think I’ll change out of my work clothes and eat something.”
“All the bags of stuff you bought are in the closet. I promise no one went through them.”
“Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome. Do you have dinner plans?”
“I was going to fix something simple here. I’m tired from chasing after kindergartners all week.”
“I was thinking of ordering some Asian food. I could get you something.”
My first thought is to tell him no, but we’re managing to carry on a civil conversation, and he did something wonderful for me today. If I want to move forward, I can’t retreat.
“OK, that sounds good.”
Elliott
“Thank you for dinner,” Sailor says after I set her box of fried rice in front of her, along with an eggroll.
“You’re welcome.”
“I love it out here, on the terrace.” She smiles, but her eyes don’t meet mine as she looks out toward the park. I let her have the better side of the table, and as she takes in her surroundings, I absorb the sight of her.
I don’t feel worthy of thinking of Sailor sexually, but I can’t help it. From the cleavage showing in her pink V-neck t-shirt to her tight, little ass in black yoga pants, my darker side is winning on the moral battlefront.
She looks at me while nervously jabbing her rice with her chopsticks.
“I thought you were never returning to the city, so even though you’re not on the Upper East Side, I was surprised to see you’re this close, and I would’ve never pegged you as a Greenwich guy.”
“Cornell University is tied to New York/Presbyterian. I needed to work there. By living in the Village, I’m far enough away from the past, yet I still have a tolerable commute. Jake told me you had been living on the Lower East Side. How did that come about?”
Swallowing her bite of food, she looks off toward the landscape.
“Things weren’t the same after Rebecca died, not at school or with my friends and family. I’m not close to my parents, and I’ve done what I can to essentially vanish from those I once knew.”
“Same, but it’s a shame to hear that’s the case for you.”
“It’s been lonely at times, but the change opened my eyes to a whole other world happening outside of the pretentious one you and I grew up in. It’s a richer life in my opinion. Once I left for college, I never looked back.”
“Since your father’s a CEO of a tech company, I figured he would expect you to go to business school.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I’m sure Rebecca would’ve been more suited for the boardroom.” Sailor frowns and stabs her fo
od a few more times. “I’ve felt like a disappointment to my parents for years now.”
“Because they think you were driving the night of the accident, right?”
“That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“A lot has changed over the years.”
“It seems so, and it’s weird I wound up in your home.”
“Yeah, it is strange.” We eat quietly as I search for the nerve to ask her a harder question. Maybe it’s only hard because I don’t want to hear the answer I’m expecting. “I’m having trouble telling what’s happening between you and Jake. Are you dating?”
“I’m having trouble telling, too.” She smiles, and I wonder if it’s simply because I mentioned his name. “We’re not a couple, but we’re going to spend more time together to see if our attraction could evolve into something serious.
“I don’t believe he’d sleep with anyone else right now, but we didn’t agree to be exclusive. He told me last night about his connection to Rebecca. The fact I didn’t know was weighing on him.”
Shoving my chopsticks in my box, I lean back in my chair.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he slept with her while you and Rebecca were dating.”
“I’m surprised he told you and even more surprised you’re not pissed at him.”
“Why would I be? I mean, of course I’d prefer he hadn’t slept with her, too, but it’s in the past, and we’ve all made mistakes. He was young and immature, and I don’t believe that should be a factor in judging his character today.”
“You said he slept with her, too. That means you’ve slept with Jake.” Lacing my hands behind my head, I look to the sky as the sun sets. “Fuck.”
“Why is that a big deal?”
“Since it’s Jake we’re talking about, I’m not surprised, but I guess I was hoping it wasn’t the case.”
“Again, why does it matter to you?”
“It matters to me because you matter to me.” I rest my arms on the table and lean over it. “Sailor, I still care about you. I will never not care about you. You need to know that before things get any more serious between you and Jake and I’m not allowed to say it.”
“I don’t know what your definition of care is, but I have a feeling you shouldn’t elaborate, especially if you consider Jake a good friend.”
“I’m not sure what the definition is, either, but what I do know is that it tears me up inside to see the two of you together.”
“No. Stop.” Sailor pushes her chair back, and in a flash, she’s heading right into the condo. I follow her and watch as she grabs a bottle of wine and strides to the kitchen.
“I take it you like to drink.”
“Only since I met Jake. I seldom drank before then, but I’m finding it helps my nerves.”
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t,” she says as she opens the drawer to find a corkscrew. I grab it first, and taking the bottle from her, I proceed to open it.
“I’ll shut up about the past … and us. Just don’t leave. Spend time with me so we can work through this awkwardness.”
Rubbing her forehead, she looks up at me.
“OK, but only because we need to keep moving forward. Jake thinks it will be good for us.”
As I pour her a glass of strawberry wine, I wonder if she hopes the alcohol will erase her memories of me. “He thinks it will help you make a commitment to Nicole,” she adds.
Freezing, I glance down at her, and she’s biting her lip, her dark eyes round as she waits for my response. Hmm … Sailor’s curious about Nicole and me.
“He shouldn’t be talking about my personal shit. He’s not a fucking therapist or matchmaker.”
“He’s only trying to help. Nicole seemed nice when we met.”
“Yes, she’s a kind person.” Handing Sailor her glass, I put the wine in the refrigerator.
“What does she do for a living? How long have you two been dating? And where did you meet?”
I laugh. “Why so curious?”
Taking a long drink, she sets her wine glass on the counter and stares at it.
“Because you matter to me, too. I want to know that the woman you’re with is genuinely kindhearted and makes you happy. After the way your dad and Rebecca treated you, I need to know you’re with someone who’s good to you.”
Clasping her chin, I turn her head my direction.
“I’m not in a relationship with Nicole, but she’s incredible. Any man would be lucky to have her, but only one who’s not a fuckup deserves her.”
“So, you’re not in a relationship with her because you don’t feel like you’re good enough.”
“I can’t give her every part of me, and Nicole deserves someone who’s all in.”
“Why can’t you?”
“I said I wouldn’t talk about the past, and I’d have to do that to explain myself. Let’s change the subject before I run you off.” I glance down at her lips, and realizing I’m still holding her chin, I release it. “I need a distraction. Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sounds like a great way to spend the evening, but we should probably finish dinner first. I’m sorry I ran out.”
I sigh. “I told you never to apologize to me. Until the end of time, don’t do it again. Got it?”
“Got it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elliott
Sailor and I sit on opposite ends of the couch, and it’s weird because I feel uncomfortable not being close to her. It’s like we’re teenagers who are feeling out the water, unsure of whether the other wants to sit close or not.
We settle on the move Atomic Blonde with Charlize Theron. She’s badass, but the unexpected scene of car carnage sends my mind spiraling ten years back.
“Even though Sailor’s sticking to her story, we know you were driving when the accident occurred, Elliott,” Mr. Lockwood says to me sternly. We’ve spoken to the police in-depth.
“The pair of flip-flops Sailor was wearing that night were in the rear floorboard, and your seat was pushed too far back. Sailor is short and never could’ve reached the pedals.”
Mrs. Lockwood weeps, covering her mouth with the tissue she’s been using to wipe away her tears. My mother is sitting next to her on the sofa, looking at Carolyn helplessly.
I thought I couldn’t feel any worse about the accident, but I do. Mrs. Lockwood has always been good to me. Sailor got her kindness from her mom. Rebecca got her manipulating skills from her father.
“We discussed this the night of the accident. Sailor confessed,” my father states. He’s the king of manipulation. “I’m sure she pushed the seat back after the crash to get out of the Rover quickly, and there could be another explanation for the shoes.
“Maybe they were covered in sand, so she tossed them in the back when she got behind the wheel.” My father looks at me with his glacial eyes, the warning permanently etched over the ice years ago. “Elliott, go to your room.”
Nodding, I slip out of the living room, but I only go halfway up the stairs so I can listen.
“Randall, I’m sure the last thing you want is for this incident to become a scandal. You have a successful company, and I’m a judge. We’re well-known in the community. Think of how damaging this could be for both our families.”
“I have thought about it. We buried our daughter today, so the last thing we want is more stress and attention on our family.”
“Exactly. Everyone understands accidents happen. Sailor was trying to help, driving her sister and friend home after they had too much to drink, but imagine if the public discovered Sailor lied, that she and Elliott covered up a crime. Then, it’s no accident. Your daughter will never be looked at again as one of the victims.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I believe we need to let this go. I know Elliott is being punished with guilt, and an investigation would only cause further unnecessary pain to everyone involved.
“It cou
ld cost Elliott and Sailor their Ivy League educations, as well. What if Sailor’s been telling the truth all along? The scandal would be for nothing.”
The house becomes chillingly silent, and I picture Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood staring at each other, weighing their decision.
“We’ll agree to this, but only if Elliott never speaks to Sailor again. It’s obvious he has some influence over her, so I don’t want rumors spreading about the two of them or people questioning the accident.
“Not to mention, seeing him would only be a constant reminder for Sailor of the loss of her sister and the burden she’ll now carry forever. Elliott shouldn’t want that for her.
“We’ll never forget Rebecca, but maybe we can all put the accident behind us, and distancing our families from one another is the most effective way.”
“I agree, and I’ll make that very clear to Elliott,” my father states. I can imagine the smile he’s struggling not to show. He won the battle, and I lost the two most important girls in my life. I quietly finish walking up the stairs and call my friend Thomas.
“Hi, can you pick me up? I have to get the hell out of this house.”
“Elliott, Elliott.” Sailor turns my head to face her, so I blink a few times fast. Her eyes, full of worry, search mine as she holds my face. She’s on her knees at my side as I sit on the couch.
“Are you OK?” Skimming her fingers across my forehead, she frowns. “You’re sweating. Do you feel sick?” I manage to shake my head as I swallow to quench my dry mouth.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
She sinks back on her legs. “Do what?”
“Why did you tell the cops you were driving? Why did you do it? The other driver fled, probably because that person was drinking, too, so I might not have been in trouble.”
Tears flood her eyes, but her lips purse with anger.
“I did it to save you. To make sure your father didn’t kill you, which wasn’t an unrealistic thought to have. I did it so you could still go to an Ivy League college and have a future.”
“There’s no way you could’ve considered all those things in mere seconds at that age.”