by Kat T. Masen
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he replies.
There’s a lot of noise in the background, and I try to figure out where he is, but it slowly disappears.
“Where are you?”
“Publisher party.” His voice becomes clearer as he moves to a quieter environment. “Adriana, I miss you.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “I miss you, too. This week has been hard without you talking to me,” I admit.
“I’m sorry, I was a jerk. It’s been hard on me, too. I just… I am frustrated, you know?” he slurs his words.
“And drunk?” My conscience tells me not to ask if he’s high. He said that he wouldn’t touch that stuff again, and right now, I trust his word.
“Yeah, maybe a little. Adriana, I can’t stop thinking about you. How beautiful you are, the smell of your skin, the way your face glows when I’m inside you.” It may have been a drunken ramble, but it’s exactly what I need to hear. I know I’m blushing, and phone sex is super-hot when you’re not at your brother’s house.
“I, um…” I lower my voice and move further into the yard. “I can’t stop thinking about you. All of you. I’m shit at phone sex, but to make a long story short, when you’re back, you’re mine for at least the first twenty-four hours.”
He laughs. “You’re shit at phone sex, but knowing you want to fuck me for twenty-four hours straight satisfies me plenty.”
I hear the door creak open. Nikki has moved onto the verandah, prompting me to end my call.
“Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I’m home, okay?”
“Okay, and Adriana?”
“Yes?” I reply quietly, eyeing Nikki as she waits for me patiently.
“Never mind.”
I don’t want to let him get away with that answer, but with Nikki hovering, I have no choice but to hang up.
I place my cell in my back pocket and walk toward Nikki. We both stand on the deck before Nikki talks. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, not sure why everyone asks me that. Did Charlie send you out here?”
She smiles, playing with her ponytail which distracts me. “Charlie is still probing Lex about the porn stars on the beach.”
I laugh out loud, Nikki following, but my head is elsewhere.
“Adriana, I know we don’t talk as much as we used to, but I’m here, you know. Any time you want to chat.”
What’s this about? Dog sniffing the trail? Okay, pretty fluffy cute dog sniffing the trail.
“Thanks for the offer, Nikki. Really, I’m okay,” I reassure her.
“If there’s something you need to get off your chest, I promise not to say anything to anyone.”
I shoot back defensively, “Have you been speaking to Eric?”
“Uh, no, but I did run into Tristan earlier.”
“Oh…” I play dumb. “How is he?”
“Good. He’s perfect for Eric. Really grounds him. But listen, that’s not what we—”
We are interrupted as the rest of the group walks outside. Rocky starts rambling on about something which leads to a conversation involving Elijah. Everyone stops and turns to look at me.
“I’d really appreciate it if you guys stopped doing that. I’m fine.”
“Sorry,” Rocky says.
“Let’s go inside for dessert,” Charlie says. “It’s homemade blueberry pie and vanilla bean ice cream.”
“See, this is why I love LA.” Rocky places his arm around Charlie as the rest of the group follows. Eric stays back.
“I haven’t spoken to you about your adventure Down Under. Give me the juice,” he probes.
“Eric, this isn’t the time. Not here, at least.”
He lets out a loud gasp and covers his mouth. “You got laid!”
“Eric… shh!”
“Batman got some kitty!”
“OMG, Eric. That’s so crude, even by my standards.”
The back door opens once again with Lex carrying a bag of trash. He looks our way, his eyes darting with curiosity, and I know he really doesn’t need to take out the trash. Considering he despises housework, it’s blatantly obvious what he’s doing.
“Let’s go in. We’ll talk later.”
Back inside, everyone is happily eating dessert. I notice the time is after nine and tell everyone I need to head home to get Andy to bed. After a number of goodbyes, I head off home.
A little later I pull into my driveway but feel somewhat odd. Andy is fast asleep in the back of the car, and something warns me to look around. The neighborhood is quiet, a few cars parked on the street which belong to residents. There’s a faint glow of light coming from the streetlamp. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of birds or even bats.
I focus on a rustling sound, the tree in front of the yard, and I see a shadow.
Holy shit, this is it!
I’m being stalked!
I am about to grab the broom on the porch, ready to defend us when I hear my name being whispered, and the shadow moves away from the tree, walking toward me.
Shocked, second-guessing my imagination, I walk toward the figure.
“Batman?”
His familiar laugh confirms my suspicion, and I immediately run toward him, jumping into his embrace as he squeezes me tighter than he ever has before. I bury my face into his neck, and his scent of aftershave reminds me how much I miss him.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were at a publisher’s party?”
“I was. In LA. You never asked that, smarty pants.”
“You got me there.” I examine his face. Even in his intoxicated state, he is deliciously handsome. I’m unable to hide the smile on my face as he grins in return. Just when I thought all was lost between us, he places his warm lips on mine, and I melt into him.
Finally, he is home.
I creep down the stairway careful not to wake Andy.
As I reach the landing, Julian stands in the living room near the mantel, holding a picture of Elijah and me on our wedding day. I’m not prepared for Julian to be in my home, my conscience is smothered in guilt. It feels disrespectful. I still remember the day Elijah and I moved in. It feels like only yesterday we were making plans, and it all revolved around this house and our family. Now, here stands a different man, one I am romantically linked with standing patiently in this house, and I’m unable to string a sentence together, conflicted with emotions of guilt and the fact that I’ve missed Julian more than I realized.
He hears my footsteps and is quick to turn around, still clutching the frame.
“You looked beautiful on your wedding day, Adriana. Ethereal, in fact. Very happy.” He doesn’t make eye contact, and his smile fades as he places the picture back on the mantel.
“I was.” I fidget with the pocket of my dress, uncomfortable with the conversation. Everything about this house represents my marriage. Every room, every piece of furniture is attached to a memory. They may be buried for now, but occasionally, they resurface and that part of me which tries to move on, takes a step back.
“Does it bother you that I have these photos lying around?”
“Bother me? No, he was your life,” he mumbles.
His eyes move toward the countless frames which sit on top of the mantel. Several are of Elijah, many of Andy, and, of course, a few including Charlie and Lex.
When his eyes stumble upon our family photograph, they quickly divert, piquing my interest. Does it still bother him to see them together? I need to stop asking the question. I know perfectly well if I ask, he will get defensive like every other time I’ve asked, but do I ever listen to my instincts? No. That’s what gets me into trouble all the time, serious foot-in-mouth.
I walk over to stand beside him, careful not to get too close. My self-control is poor, and even though he is within arm’s reach, the guilt is like a big fucking cockblocker if ever I met one.
“I still remember my wedding day as if it was yesterday. I may have gone Bridezilla on everyone’s asses.” I chuckle mildly to li
ghten the mood. “Charlie was different, though. She didn’t care about her wedding at all. It was fun planning that day for her.”
“I can’t imagine Charlie making a fuss. God knows she didn’t with me.” One could misconstrue his tone as bitter. I know he has been drinking, and my resistance isn’t helping to brighten his mood.
I try not to let his comment get to me, but I’m not that strong. Does it mean he wishes that she did care?
He turns to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, a result of the alcohol, but as usual, he looks utterly gorgeous dressed in a white V-neck T-shirt covered with a dark gray blazer. His slim, dark denim jeans accentuate his height and physique. He’s so much taller than me, not that I’m a midget or anything, but I am not exactly Heidi Klum.
He places his hands in his pockets almost like he can read my thoughts by keeping his distance. I can’t help but stare at him. Even in his intoxicated state, my jaw wants to drop to the floor as his beautiful face draws me in. His skin, the way his chiseled jaw shapes his face is disturbingly perfect. How can one man look like a fucking god and want me? I’m nothing special, and I definitely am not Charlie.
“I’ve never seen you as happy as you look in that photo.” It’s a statement, said flatly, as his eyes intimidate me with a deep stare.
I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, resentful for the mixed emotions swirling around in my head. “Well, you lose your husband a week after you give birth, and it’s kinda hard to smile again.”
“Right.”
Fuck. I see the hurt in his expression. The deep stare narrows as he blinks, and he turns away.
What the fuck is wrong with my big fat mouth? I want to slap it and send it to the naughty corner, tell it that Santa isn’t coming because she’s on the naughty list.
Why do I not think before I speak!
Yep, that’s how much I hate myself right now. I just can’t do anything right.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” I admit, trying to repair the damage.
“It came out the way you intended, the truth in its finest form. Listen, I should probably go.” He fumbles in his pocket for something, producing his cell a second later. He refuses to look my way, busily typing away to someone.
“Where are you staying?”
“A hotel on the other side of town. I’ve got a meeting with a realtor tomorrow.”
“You’re renting a place?”
He nods. During my stay in Sydney, we talked briefly about the success of his book and what that meant for him. Being honest and open, he told me how he’d lost everything he had worked so hard for because of his addiction to cocaine. Being signed by a publisher gave him that financial boost he needs to get back on his feet. Renting, in my eyes, means only one thing, though—it isn’t a permanent stay, and being in his profession, he can up and leave any time.
“Why don’t you stay here?” I offer, careful to hide the desperation in my voice.
“Adriana, I don’t—”
“I mean like on the couch? I’m sorry, I don’t know what is happening here.” It’s unexpected, the croak in my throat forms, my words choking as that lingering tear escapes my eyes.
“You’re upset because I’m standing in the home which belongs to you and your husband, and you feel guilty.”
I look up at him as his eyes have found their way back to mine. I want to touch him. I need to touch him. I beg him with my eyes to embrace me, but he doesn’t, and maybe it’s for the best.
“How did you know?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
“Body language, plus hours of therapy with Hazel.”
“OMG, Hazel. I haven’t had a chance to call her since I got back. When did you speak to her?” I get off track, welcoming the distraction.
“This morning. I went straight there to see her and spend some time with Blaze. God, I missed her.” His smile returns, and I’m hurt it isn’t me making that happen.
“Why didn’t you come see me first?”
“Why? Because I wasn’t sure I could handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“Being back in LA where all my problems started. Seeing you and not knowing how you will react in our normal environment.”
“And Hazel helped.”
I love Hazel like my own mother, and now with a better understanding, it makes sense why he’d have sought guidance first. This is far more complicated than our relationship. I know firsthand how being somewhere can trigger all the unwarranted memories of a time in your life where darkness prevailed.
Breathe, Adriana. Don’t make this all about you.
“I knew that standing beside you, not being able to touch you, would be hard. I never expected it to be this hard,” he confesses.
“Please stay,” I beg.
“It’s too hard, Adriana.”
“Please? On my couch. I know I’m not ready but knowing you’re here, I really want that.” He remains quiet, and I continue speaking the truth. “I need you here.”
He thinks about my offer, then nods without saying a word.
We work silently together as I arrange the cushions and grab a blanket from the linen closet. Within moments, he has taken off his jacket and shoes and is lying on the couch. A yawn escapes his mouth as he rubs his tired face.
“You sure Andy won’t come down?”
“No, he won’t. It’s Saturday, and besides, he won’t go downstairs without me,” I tell him. “He’s afraid the boogey monsters prey on little boys. Blame Rocky and his Ghostbusters obsession.”
I’m distracted momentarily by his penetrating stare, the desperation to be physical with me, but I restrain, unable to relax in my own home. I say good night without a kiss goodnight and walk upstairs.
In the confinement of my room, a single tear escapes again followed by a stream. Why does having him here make me feel so guilty? Elijah told me to move on, find someone who will love me. Does Julian love me?
Love is a terrifying word I never thought I’d have to say to anyone besides Elijah. The anger is starting to build. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why is it that everywhere I turn, I’m met with a battle?
I change into my tank and bed shorts before climbing into bed. My bed feels emptier than in the weeks after Elijah’s death. I lay on my side staring wide awake at the ceiling, chastising myself for being gutless and for not being able to talk openly about my fears, afraid I’m pushing him away, so I send him a text.
Me: I’m sorry I’m hurting you.
I wait fifteen minutes. I contemplate going downstairs, but my screen lights up, and I take a deep breath before I read his response.
Julian: It does hurt. But what’s the point of pushing of you? Sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow.
The answer leaves me wanting to ask more questions, but it’s been a long day, and exhaustion rears its ugly head along with its BFF, guilt.
It hits hard, and Elijah invades my mind as it decides to take a walk down memory lane.
I rest my head on his lap watching paint dry, and I mean literally. We had just painted the walls in our apartment a shade of lilac, creating a small piece of heaven which was slowly becoming our home.
“Did you seriously think we’d end up together? I mean, you know everyone says high school sweethearts never last,” I asked.
“Babe, we aren’t like anyone else. We always had that connection not many people get, but you and me, we got it bad,” Elijah said confidently.
He placed the remote of his Xbox down and stroked my hair gently. My body relaxed as his fingertip glided against my scalp causing my skin to shiver in delight.
“Charlie and Lex are like that. I feel it. I just shouldn’t have been part of breaking them up.” I sighed loudly.
“Adriana, don’t feel guilty for that. They both needed to find themselves. And I agree, they have a strong connection. If only their stubborn heads would realize that.”
“I feel sorry for Julian. I know Charlie loves him, and he loves her, but he just needs to let he
r be with Lex. God, he is hot enough to pick up anyone. Let go of her and find another beauty.”
“Sometimes, it’s not so easy to let go. He’s a great guy and intelligent. Don’t meddle, okay? It’s called a love triangle. Triangle has three sides, not four,” he pointed out.
I wasn’t a meddler. Okay, maybe I was but only because I had good intentions.
“So are you! You distracted Julian in the restaurant so Lex and Charlie could talk, but I swear to God they fucked in the toilet because Lex’s forehead looked sweaty.” I screwed my face up in disgust. Argh, he is your brother, Adriana! Wrong on so many levels.
“Julian is a great guy. He’ll figure it out soon. Now as for you, have I told you lately how much I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans?
I let out a small giggle. “Yes, last night during that long lovemaking session with those new oils.”
“Well, I love you,” he repeated.
I moved my body, so my face met his. His crooked smile awaited me as I ran my finger down his cheek. His quick bite startled me, and we both erupted into laughter.
“You and me, mister, for life. We can’t be broken.” I smiled.
“Impossible.” He smiled back.
And we were broken.
One year and forty-six days after that promise.
To be exact.
“Mama, Mama! Uncle Lex is here,” Andy yells throughout the hallway, his footsteps smacking hard against the floorboards.
I groan and throw the pillow over my head at the noise. Lex here on a Saturday? What the fu… Oh, shit! I burst out of bed so fast, certain I’ve just given myself a nosebleed, kicking my toe on the bedside table, the pain ricocheting up my leg. There’s no time to stop as I race out of the room.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is it… my life is over!
“Hey, sis,” Lex greets me.
He is dressed in his gym shorts and a Nike tank. I don’t know why I notice, but his hair is a goddamn mess.
I stop at my bedroom door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in my most relaxed voice, which is so high-pitched I’m sure he will catch on to me.
“Just here to pick up Andy for the bike ride I promised him.”