FALLEN: A Dark Mystery Romance (LOVE IS WAR Book 1)

by Shayne Ford

  I pull out a chair for her as she takes a seat at the table.

  “Nice job,” says Viola as she rounds the table and slides into a chair across from my mother.

  Three years younger than me, and a pre-med student, my sister looks nothing like me.

  A mane of curly hair cascades down her back, large rings of chocolate-brown locks framing her face. She has my mother’s blue eyes and my father’s profile, her temperament reminding me of my grandfather.

  An ardent fan of pants, she fashions elegant black slacks and a silk blouse with small print in muted tones.

  A few shades lighter than hers, my hair is just as long, and slightly waving, stray bangs almost always falling into my eyes.

  As much as I wanted her blue eyes, I have to admit that my greenish-brown irises fit the color of my hair the best.

  I turn to Anna.

  A long knit black dress paired with a choker-style necklace, sets of her silhouette. Straight, short red hair brushes her cheeks, making her pale skin and blue eyes pop.

  “May all your wishes come true, Birthday Girl!” she says, smiling from ear to ear as she hands me a beautifully wrapped gift.

  She kisses me on my cheek and gives me a quick hug.

  My smile drops from my face as Allan enters the room. Our eyes lock briefly, enough to notice the coldness in his gaze.

  He stretches a grin for the guests who walk by his side and shows them to the table.

  A faint smile rolls on his lips as he glances at me, not enough to erase the disappointment lingering in his eyes after the conversation that we had last night.

  “Are you okay?” asks Anna, who registers the change of expression on my face.

  She looks at me, worried.

  “Yes,” I quietly say, slipping another glance in Allan’s direction.

  Her eyes follow my gaze, her hand curling around my arm. She leans closer to me.

  “What happened?” she asks with a quiet voice.

  “Same old story,” I mutter as I unwrap the gift.

  My eyes fly to my mom and my sister who are busy greeting the guests.

  “Is this about having kids again?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say while nodding and smiling at the guests as well. “We’ll talk about it later on,” I murmur, my expression changing again as I get ready to talk with our guests.

  For the next couple of hours or so, we sit around the table, and cheerfully enjoy the gourmet food and fine wine. Appetizers, cheese, fruit and grilled fish and steak get tasted around the table. The few choices of red wine enliven the atmosphere.

  Despite the animosity between us, Allan and I manage to appear relaxed.

  Throughout the evening, we avoid talking to each other, and while we’ve reached some sort of a truce, a storm still brews between us.

  Around ten, the party draws to an end. Allan offers to drive home one of the couples while Anna, Viola, mom and I, find ourselves chatting over a glass of wine in the kitchen.

  “The place looks nice,” my mom says, taking in the new kitchen counters, and the round wooden table sitting in the corner, next to the window.

  She takes a seat while I scoop out a plate filled with bite-size chocolate desserts from the refrigerator and slide it onto the table. Next to it, I set a bowl of strawberries.

  Viola picks a piece of fruit while mom and I get a taste of the chocolate ganache cake.

  “I need the address of this catering company,” mom says as she munches on the delicious dessert.

  “Sure.”

  I rise to my feet, open a drawer and pull out a leaflet and a business card.

  I hand them to my mom.

  “How did you find them?”

  “One of my clients used them for a book launching party, and she recommended them to me.”

  She studies the card.

  “Mmm... These are really good,” she says, chewing on a small bite.

  She sets the card next to the leaflet.

  “How’s your little business?” she asks, picking a small square of lemon cake from the plate.

  Anna scoops one too.

  I take a long breath and look down at the dessert plate, evading their eyes.

  “It’s good,” I say with a strained voice.

  Suddenly, I feel three pairs of eyes on me.

  I raise my gaze.

  It takes a split second to register their mixed reactions. I read concern on Anna’s face, doubt on my mom’s and curiosity in my sister’s eyes.

  “I’m still of the opinion that you should work in a proper office,” my mom says, bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

  “Leave her alone, mom,” Viola protests, rolling her eyes at her.

  Maggie ignores her.

  “Seriously, now. It’s not healthy to spend so much time all by yourself. If Allan would work from home too...”

  “That’s not an argument,” Viola interferes again. “This is working out for her. Why does it always have to be your way?”

  A pause ensues as my mom studies my expression. I casually try to smile, but I fail miserably.

  “It’s not my way, sweetie. Everybody does it for a reason. It’s clearly not working for Tess,” she says to my sister.

  “How do you know that?” Viola asks, unwilling to give my mom a pass.

  “Because she can’t even say it convincingly enough,” she tosses back at her.

  Viola shoots me a glance, her eyes begging for help.

  I flick my hand up.

  “It does work. It’s just that sometimes I have a hard time to concentrate,” I say, trying to dispel my mom’s concerns.

  No chance in hell.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You get anxious for whatever reason, and then you can’t focus on your work. What’s the point of working from home, if you can’t do the actual work?”

  “Mom!”

  I raise my hand again, stopping Viola from berating mom.

  “I didn’t say I can’t do my work. All I’m saying is that, from time to time, I struggle to keep myself chained to the chair for so many hours. That can happen in an office setting too. It has nothing to do with anxiety or anything like that.”

  She gestures at me dismissively as she shifts her eyes back to the dessert plate.

  “I think it does. You spend too much time alone, without any social interaction, your nose stuck in those books.”

  She flicks her gaze up to me.

  “What exactly were they again...?”

  “Mysteries,” I say.

  “Yes. Mysteries,” she mumbles as she shifts her eyes back to the plate.

  She picks a piece of chocolate ganache cake and pops it into her mouth.

  “You fill your head with nonsense, don’t talk to anyone the whole day, and then refuse to take the pills that the doctor gave you.”

  “Mom?? Come on...”

  Maggie swings her eyes to my sister.

  “She’s not crazy,” argues Viola in my defense.

  My sister has always had a bone of crusader in her.

  “I didn’t say she was. Am I crazy just because I pop a pill once in a while? No, I am not,” she adds without waiting for my sister’s answer. “It kills my jitters. It makes me feel better. There’s nothing wrong with that. She could use the medication. Not every day, but once in a while if it helps her to work more efficiently.”

  “And that’s up to her.”

  Anna and I exchange looks.

  “Okay... Whatever,” my mom says, visibly irritated.

  For a moment, it looks like she’s giving up.

  She takes another sip of wine, runs a napkin over her lips, and speaks again.

  “Perhaps you should have a baby,” she tosses at me when I expect the least.

  She doesn’t even look in my direction.

  The blood draws from my face.

  I swing my gaze to the side and meet my sister’s eyes.

  She makes a silent gesture to me, to let it go, but my lips start moving.

&nbs
p; “And why’s that mom?” I ask, unable to push back my frustration.

  Viola and Anna train their eyes on me while I wait for my mom to swing her gaze back at me.

  She tips her chin up and looks at me.

  “What kind of question is that?” she asks, surprised, and a bit puzzled.

  “It’s a question like any other question,” I say, my words slicing the air.

  Everything I couldn’t share with Allan finally finds its way out.

  “Why is everybody assuming that this is the next step in my life?”

  My mom examines me for a second.

  “It’s not an assumption, sweetie. This is one of the best times in your life to start a family. You’re both making good money. You’re young. You love each other.”

  I stay silent.

  She scorches me with a scrutinizing gaze.

  “At least he does,” she says, questioning my feelings for him.

  “At the same time, I could argue that the best time to focus on my writing business is right now, and everything else should come naturally.”

  She takes a long breath.

  “You do as you wish. These are your decisions after all, but you must know this is a time-sensitive issue, and the sooner you start a family, the better you and Allan will be.”

  The fangs of panic sink into my chest.

  “What makes you think that we are not okay?” I ask.

  The silence is almost palpable.

  Anna’s eyebrows begin to arch while Viola’s eyes dart back and forth between my mom and me.

  Mom shrugs nonchalantly.

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  Her question takes me by surprise.

  “I told you that we were,” I say with a shaky voice.

  “Then what’s stopping you from spending more time with him and having kids?”

  Something collapses inside me. The sensation is almost physical as is the nauseating feeling creeping up my throat.

  I push to my feet, collect my empty glass and make a beeline for the sink.

  “There’s nothing wrong with us,” I say as I start washing the glass, my back turned to them. “Besides, this is something between him and me,” I continue. “We’ve only been married for a couple of years. We still need time to figure things out,” I say, irritated.

  “You don’t need to get angry.”

  “I’m not angry, mom,” I bark as I turn off the faucet and swivel to her.

  I grab a small kitchen towel and pat my hands dry.

  “Okay, fine,” she says, raising her hand. “As I said, you do whatever you think is best for you, but please keep in mind that good men like Allan are rare. For one, he loves you–– I know he does, but if you drag your feet too long, he might shift his focus away from you. And then, he wants children, and if you’re not ready, someone else will be. That’s how life works.”

  “I’m aware of all these things,” I say with a mellower voice.

  Her eyes stall on my face for a moment.

  “Okay, then. I’m glad to hear that. That’s all I wanted to know.”

  She glances at Viola.

  “We should go,” she says.

  They push out of their seats, take a few steps toward me and kiss me goodbye.

  Minutes later, they walk out of my home, climb into my mom’s car and drive off.

  I walk Anna to the door as well.

  “I’ll take a few steps with you,” I say, grabbing my coat.

  She waits for me as I lock the door and button up my double-breasted coat.

  “It’s a beautiful evening,” she says as we walk down the stairs.

  “Yes, it is,” I mutter, enchanted by the crisp air infused with a scent of smoke.

  The streetlights cast a glow over the sidewalks and the park.

  I loop my arm through hers as we start strolling down the street. Her house is only a few blocks away.

  “So what’s the story with you and Allan?” she asks. “You looked so flustered when Maggie asked you all those questions. Don’t get me wrong. I’d be annoyed too.”

  “No, no… She’s right. I know she is. And it’s not as if I don’t want to start a family. It’s just that I feel pressed from all directions, and I don’t like it. Besides, I had the same conversation with Lisa last night and then with Allan when we got home. He’s not happy about it, and I can’t blame him, but I can’t make myself feel differently about this thing either. My head is not there. And I don’t think my heart is there either.”

  We stop at the corner of a block to let a car pass by before we continue our evening stroll.

  “Do you love him?” Anna asks, glancing at me.

  It takes her only a moment to read the answer in my eyes.

  “I do,” I say.

  Too late I’m afraid.

  She pulls to a stop, drawing me to a halt as well.

  Our eyes connect for a few moments.

  Anna has known me since we were six. We both had ponytails and played in the park across the street.

  She studies me, doubt flashing through her gaze.

  “No. I really do,” I say, reiterating what I have already relayed to everybody else, myself included, for the last twenty-four hours or so.

  “You have affection for him,” she says.

  “That’s possible,” I mutter, and we start walking again. “But that’s a form of love as well. My mom had only affection for my dad, and up to the day he left us, she never felt unhappy. To her, that was as good as love. That’s why I believe that affection is not that bad.”

  “I’m not saying that it is, but sometimes it’s not enough.”

  “That’s what my neighbor said.”

  She shoots me a quick side glance.

  “George, my neighbor,” I clarify.

  Her face lights up with a smile.

  “See. I’m not the only one.”

  “Yes, I know. And I agree with both of you, but to be honest, I don’t think I want more than what I have right now. It’s not as if I’m longing for something different or someone else.”

  “What is the problem then?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready.”

  “Is that all?”

  I ponder for a few seconds.

  “Yes. That, and the fact that I’m afraid.”

  She stops for the second time.

  “Afraid of what?”

  I search her eyes for a moment before I tear my arm away from hers and look in the distance.

  Not far from us, the scenery begins to change, the quiet streets with old trees and beautiful brick townhouses getting replaced by roads with heavy traffic and tall buildings with shops and restaurants crammed at the ground level.

  From where we stand, I can see Anna’s place.

  “What I am afraid of...”

  I bring my eyes back to her, sadness growing in me.

  “I don’t know what it is. Everything, perhaps...” I say, smiling faintly.

  She cocks her head to the side, a questioning look sliding onto her face.

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrug and look down at the tip of my boots, and then, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes as I raise my gaze.

  “Something happens to me.”

  Questions flicker in her eyes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know how I’ve always struggled to concentrate and keep my focus on things. For the first time, I noticed it in school and then as I was growing up.”

  She softly nods.

  “Yes, I do. But I also know that your mind was capable of things that mine wasn’t. It has always taken you less time to do anything. Projects, essays. You name it.”

  “Yeah... yeah. I know. But now it’s way worse.”

  “How can it be worse?”

  I glance down again before I bring my eyes to her.

  “My mind can’t stay still for a second. I ruminate, and my attention is completely scattered.”

  “Is that why your mom suggeste
d that you should take a pill?”

  I smile.

  “You wanted me to do the same thing,” I say teasingly.

  She grins.

  “No, I wasn’t. It was only in your mind…”

  She starts to laugh.

  “Now, I know what you mean… About your mind,” she says.

  My smile dies out, and so does hers.

  “My mom thinks it’s anxiety,” I say seriously this time. “The doctor said I was fine.”

  “So what’s the problem then?”

  “I don’t know if it’s a problem. A medical problem, I mean... It may be that it’s the way I function. And that’s fine if nothing of importance is involved, but right now, I’m struggling with work. My mom was right, but I couldn’t admit it to her.”

  “I don’t think you’re the only person struggling to keep your mind focused when it comes to working. It happens to me every day in my office, and most of my coworkers have experienced it too. I think you spend too much time analyzing it, and the fact that you have to deal with their pressure doesn’t help at all.”

  We both draw to a stop.

  She examines me for a few moments before she gives me a brief hug.

  “I think you’re going to be fine, “ she says, breaking our embrace. “You need to cut yourself some slack, and let people talk, not necessarily paying attention to them. You can also tell them to mind their own business, but I assume that takes a toll on you as well.”

  I nod.

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself for everything. You’ve always been the way you are right now. Perhaps you’re going through some change. Who knows? I wouldn’t drive myself crazy over it.”

  “You’re right,” I mutter.

  She swings her eyes to the townhouse occupying the corner of the block.

  A light flickers on the second floor.

  “Dany’s home,” she says, glee lining her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  She gives me a quick kiss on my cheek and vanishes up the stairs.

  I turn around and make the trip back.

  4

  TESS

  It smells like logs licked by the fire as I walk back home.

  My heels click clank against the sidewalk, my eyes sweeping the street all the way to the place I call home.

  From time to time, I stroll past houses similar to mine. The lights are dim inside, the blue glow of the TV sets flickering behind the windows.