Coming Back To You

by Lynne, Donya

  “Do you need a ride?” He wasn’t sure she should be driving if she was this upset.

  She shook her head and darted past. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. I just want to get there.”

  “Be careful.” He watched her rush down the hall and disappear around the corner.

  If only there was something more he could do to comfort her, because his gut told him this wasn’t going to end well. But comforting her was Brad’s job, not his. Mark wasn’t a philanderer, and he didn’t take women from other men. Others could do what they pleased, but for him, a taken woman was off-limits. So, as much as he wanted to be the man to dry all Karma’s tears and ease her heartache, he wouldn’t break that one rule. He never had, and he never would.

  But damn it, he wanted to fill that position if it ever became available again.

  * * *

  Karma raced to the vet’s office, a million thoughts training through her head. What was wrong with Spookie? Would she live? Was she going to lose the best kitty in the world today? How old was Spookie, anyway? She was old. At least fifteen years. That’s old for a cat. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? She should have tried harder to find an apartment that allowed cats, because it looked like she’d run out of time.

  Running up the sidewalk, she shoved open the veterinarian’s door. Her dad was waiting for her.

  “Where is she?”

  To some people, cats were just animals, but to Karma, Spookie was like her own child, or maybe a baby sister. Spookie was as much a member of the family as she and her brother were.

  Her dad ushered her down the hall to one of the exam rooms. “They’ve got her in here.” He pushed open the door.

  Spookie lay on the exam table, panting. Karma’s mom stood beside her, crying. Her tears splattered on the Formica countertop. This wasn’t good.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Her mom grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “They say she has tumors in her lungs.”

  “T-tumors?”

  Mom nodded, and the tears that had been balancing on her lower rims fell to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, honey, but—”

  “No. Don’t say it.” Karma began to cry and knelt down.

  Spookie turned her head toward her.

  “She’s purring,” Karma heard the telltale ticking of Spookie’s purr box. “That’s a good sign, right?” She looked up at her dad.

  He shook his head. “She’s purring because she wants to be strong for us…to let us know it’s okay to…”

  Okay to let her die. That’s what Dad had almost just said. That Spookie knew her time was up and that she wanted to let them know that she was ready to go. Well, Karma wasn’t ready. She hadn’t had enough time with her, yet.

  Drowning in tears, Karma placed her forehead against Spookie’s. “I’m not ready to see you go, yet, pumpkin.”

  The black furball gave her head a weak nudge.

  “I love you, too, Spookers. Now hang on, okay. Just hang on for me.” She didn’t care, anymore. If Spookie made it through this, she would smuggle her into her apartment and keep her there in secret. Screw the apartment managers.

  Then the veterinarian came in. Karma listened as he explained the prognosis, her heart falling with every word.

  “The tumors have filled her lungs with fluid,” he said. “We can drain the fluid, but there’s nothing we can do about the tumors. In a few days, maybe a couple of weeks at the most, you’ll be right back in here. Her quality of life will suffer.”

  Long story short. It was time to say good-bye. Karma’s memory flashed back to when Spookie had been a kitten. A tiny bundle of playful black fur. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Spookie and vice versa, the two had been bonded. Spookie had been her constant companion growing up. Her one true friend when the kids in school teased her. Karma would come home from school and go to her room in tears. Then Spookie would snuggle into her lap, purring, and make everything okay.

  And now she was dying.

  “Can I stay?” If Karma had to say good-bye, she wanted to stay with her as long as she could and be with her right up to the very end…to give Spookie all that the little kitty had given her many times over.

  “Of course. I’ll give you a few minutes.” The vet quietly left the room.

  Her mom and dad kissed her on the cheek then took their leave to wait outside.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Karma broke down in uncontrollable sobs and picked Spookie up. Cradling her like a baby, she kissed her furry head and snuggled her close.

  “I love you, pumpkin. I wish I could have spent more time with you, but, like a big dummy, I thought we had all the time in the world. That’ll teach me to put off what’s important, huh?” She kissed her head again then nuzzled her tiny black, triangular nose.

  She would never give Spookie nose-kisses again. This was it. The big good-bye.

  Their time together was all too short, and the vet returned a few minutes later. Karma set Spookie back on the table, keeping her palm resting against her furry abdomen as the vet injected the concoction that would send Spookie into Heaven.

  As the life left her little body, Karma broke down again and could barely see the form authorizing the veterinarian’s office to cremate her. Her tears filmed everything in blurriness. Somehow she scrawled her name on the signature line then turned over her precious baby to the caretaker who came and took her away.

  Now came the long process of coping with her loss. More of the five stages of loss. Thanks to Jan, she knew what to expect. She was already well into the anger phase, because she was mad at herself for not taking more time and forcing herself to get off her ass sooner to find a new place to live. One that welcomed pets.

  So, yeah. She was in anger. The time for denial and bargaining was over.

  She met her parents in the lobby and waited for her dad to handle the paperwork with the desk clerk, and then the three of them trudged out the door.

  “You want to come over?” her mom said, her eyes bloodshot. “We can have a nice dinner…” She dabbed a tissue under her nose.

  “No.” Karma just wanted to go home and cry. “But thanks anyway.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes.

  “If you need anything, just call. Okay, honey?” Her dad kissed the top of her head. “It’ll get better.”

  She knew with time that the pain would pass and she would move on, but right now, her heart hurt. “Thanks, Dad.” She hugged him then made her way to her car.

  As she sank into the driver’s seat, she pulled out her phone and texted Brad.

  I need to see you. Maybe they’d had a rough few weeks, but tonight she needed him.

  A moment later, her phone dinged. Are you okay?

  No. I just put Spookie to sleep. Can you come over?

  Long wait. I’m really tied up tonight. We’re way behind on this project. Can it wait?

  Really? Can it wait? As if she could roll back the clock and delay the lethal injection that had just sent her baby across the rainbow bridge.

  Brad’s lack of emotional support knew no bounds, and it was really starting to piss her off.

  She sent a reply. Never mind. I’ll be fine.

  A few seconds later, he responded. I’ll make it up to you. Gotta go. Talk later.

  Just this once, couldn’t she be his first priority? Oh but no. Once more, she was relegated to second place. Or maybe that was third. Jade was first. Job was second. And Karma got whatever was left over, if anything.

  Was this what it would be like to be married to him?

  She lifted her gaze and stared out the window as cold realization swept through her. Brad would never be what she needed him to be. He was nice. He was polite. He was handsome. But he just didn’t align with Karma’s personality or her soul. She chuffed and shook her head. A few minutes ago, she had needed Brad, but just that quickly—with one dismissive text—Brad had gone from being her fiancé, a man she thought she needed, to a nonentity. Her faith in him and their relationship had finally shattered. This was th
e proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, and now all she felt when she thought about him was…emptiness. Where she should have felt love, all she felt was a cold void. She would never get what she needed from Brad, and she was done trying.

  She took off the engagement ring and dropped it in her wallet. If her head wasn’t already such a mess over Spookie, she would return the ring to him now, but she needed time. Time to regroup and gather her thoughts. Time to grieve. She would deal with Brad later, when she had the mental fortitude and emotional strength to officially oust him from her life without breaking down in tears. She could only handle one loss at a time, and right now, dealing with Spookie’s death was her priority.

  Her phone dinged with a text. She almost didn’t look at it, because she didn’t want to see what else Brad had to say.

  Are you okay?

  It was from Mark.

  A tiny starburst of warmth bloomed in the center of her chest. Mark. He would never dismiss her the way Brad had. He would always be there for her when it mattered.

  She nibbled her thumbnail and glanced toward the vet’s office. She’d just learned a valuable lesson. Never put off until tomorrow what you should do today. She’d wasted too much time not spending it with Spookie, and now she was gone. Karma would never hold her or hear her purr again.

  She didn’t want to make the same mistake with Mark.

  With determination—and maybe an ounce or two of reckless abandon with a side of pissed-off-and-fed-up—guiding her, she typed out a text.

  No, I’m not okay. Are you busy?

  Within seconds, Mark replied.

  I’ve always got time for you. How’s Spookie?

  Tears trickled down Karma’s cheeks. We had to put her to sleep.

  I’m so sorry. Can I do anything to help?

  Unlike Brad, Mark seemed eager to help. To do whatever he needed to make her feel better. And not because he wanted to get with her, but because he was just that kind of man. Genuine. Caring. Compassionate.

  Understanding.

  Can you come over? She hesitated for only a second before hitting send.

  I’m on my way.

  He was supposed to leave for his friend’s wedding, and yet he was willing to come over and give her his valuable time, which he had very little of right now. That spoke volumes about his character as opposed to Brad’s.

  As one life shattered inside her mind, another began piecing itself together.

  Me, too. I’m just leaving the vet’s office.

  I’ll wait for you if I beat you there.

  Thank you. This means a lot to me. I know you have to leave for Chicago tonight. I won’t keep you long.

  Don’t worry about that. Take all the time you need. Now, drive safely.

  The minute she pulled in front of her apartment and saw Mark sitting in his car, she burst into tears again. She was an emotional wreck. All the way home, she’d vacillated between sadness over Spookie and anger at Brad, and now sorrow took over for good as Mark got out of his car and took a couple of hesitant steps toward her.

  His generosity floored her. It was possible that he wasn’t Mr. Right, but by God, he was at least Mr. Right Now.

  As she climbed out of her car and walked up the sidewalk, tears streaming her cheeks, he strolled toward her, his face full of sympathy, his head tilted compassionately to one side.

  “Ssshh.” He collected her into his arms and rocked her as she huddled against his chest. “Come on. Let’s go inside, okay?” He pulled back and lifted her face. His warm eyes beseeched hers.

  She let him lead her inside and up to her apartment, where he helped her out of her coat and draped it over the arm of the couch with his.

  “Want me to make you some tea?”

  She nodded and trailed behind him as he went to the kitchen.

  For all his faults—or rather for his one and only fault—Mark epitomized everything she wanted in a man. He was husband material, lover material, father material. He was all of it except for the commitment part. But as Lisa had said, did that really matter? As long as he wanted to be with her, did it really make a difference whether or not he tied their relationship up inside a legal document that bound them to love and obey one another till death do they part?

  And Lisa was right about something else. He wouldn’t be doing all this—taking her to the doctor, putting off his trip to Chicago, all of it—if he didn’t still feel something for her.

  She stared at his broad back as he filled her teapot with water then set it on the stove and dug through her cupboard for cups.

  “You know,” he said, turning. “We had this dog when I was a kid.”

  She sat down on one of the bar stools. He stood across from her.

  “His name was Rex. Man, I loved that dog.” His eyes glazed as if with fond memories. “He was my buddy. He slept with me, waited with me at the bus stop, met me there when I got home from school. Rex was my shadow, more like a brother than a pet.”

  She smiled at the wistful expression on his face.

  “One day, Rex got really sick. He’d been losing weight for a while, but we didn’t think anything of it at first. We took him to the vet, and they told us Rex had cancer.”

  Tears stung the backs of Karma’s eyes, and Mark came around the counter. She turned to face him.

  “We had to make the same decision you did today.” He took her hand. “It was hard, but it was the humane thing to do. But man, I cried for days after that. Took me weeks to get over losing him.”

  “They’re like our children or our best friends, aren’t they?” She sniffled and cleared the emotion from her throat.

  He nodded. “I don’t think anyone who looks lightly on the death of an animal has much of a heart.”

  She tried to smile but ended up crying again instead. Mark pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  He didn’t try to tell her it would be okay or that she’d be fine. He just held her and let her cry.

  When the teakettle whistled a couple of minutes later, he slowly let go, returned to the stove, and turned off the burner. The loss of his warmth felt foreign. She wanted him back. Wanted to be in his arms again.

  Scooting off the bar stool, she approached him from behind, hesitated for a slow heartbeat, and then eased her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back.

  His body stiffened then relaxed as he let out a quiet sigh and placed his hand over hers.

  For several long moments, they remained like that in her kitchen, her hugging him from behind, her hold growing stronger with each passing second. Beneath his shirt, his hard abdomen felt like ribbed plywood, sturdy and muscular. She opened her fists and spread her fingers, pressing her palms against his torso.

  His body rose heavily as he inhaled. “Karma…” he whispered, his voice gruff and filled with confusion.

  This felt right. Her with him. Him with her. She lifted her cheek and kissed his back through his shirt. Just pressed her lips against him and fell still, absorbing his warmth.

  The rise and fall of his body told her his breathing had accelerated, and the way he leaned forward and lowered his head confirmed his interest. He liked what she was doing. It was turning him on. She remembered the nuances of his body language enough to gauge how she affected him now, and his resistant shield was quickly evaporating.

  And she wanted it to. She wanted the warmth he provided. The security. The closeness.

  With her arms still around him, he slowly turned and took her face in his hands. His dark, turbulent eyes ranged her face then fixed on hers.

  “Karma…?” He looked disoriented, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth slightly open as if he were on the verge of speaking or trying to catch his breath.

  Without saying a word, she lifted onto her toes, pulling herself up…until her lips met his. His breath caught and held, and his eyes drifted closed. So perfect. His lips still felt perfect against hers, even in such a simple, chaste kiss. His eyelid
s dragged open halfway, and she kissed him again, letting her lips linger as she let the tip of her tongue roll lazily against his bottom lip.

  They were suspended in a bubble, hardly breathing, barely moving, locked eye-to-eye. The magic that had been them for four months stretched around them, blossoming like a rose, shimmering brighter as the seconds ticked by, coming back to life like a resuscitated butterfly, its wings fluttering, then beating stronger as it reanimated.

  As she kissed him a third time and lightly nipped his lip, she felt his resolve snap.

  The air rushed out of him as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his body. He nearly stole her soul as he claimed her mouth, his tongue diving to meet hers on a hungry exhale.

  Her entire body flamed to life, having been starved for too long of physical affection. Stumbling backward, her back crashed into the wall, and his hands drove under her blouse. In the time it took to exhale, she was topless. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as he flung his tie to the floor then unfastened her slacks. In seconds, she was in her white lace bra and underwear, her fingers combing through the familiar trace of hair on his chest. He lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “You got a tattoo.” She ran her fingertips around the dark circle and Asian hieroglyphs on his chest, just left of his sternum.

  “Yes.” Something about the look on his face revealed there was a special meaning to his ink. Had he lost a loved one in the year they’d been apart?

  “What’s it mean?”

  “Not now.” His breath came in urgent bursts. “Not like this.”

  He had lost someone close, hadn’t he? The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of that loss now. Whatever his tattoo meant, it could wait. She would let him tell her later, in his own time.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He was already carrying her to the bedroom, where he lowered her onto the bed, coming down on top of her.