by Lynne, Donya
He kept his head down, fists closed around the strap on his bag.
“Do you believe me, Mark?”
His jaw flexed as he closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” He picked up his bag and turned for the door. “Are you ready to go?”
Obviously, he was still too deep in his pit of despair to listen and see the good standing right in front of him. She understood that. She’d been in similar self-pitying funks more than once. It didn’t mean he actually believed what he was saying. Sometimes, when the will had suffered a devastating blow, it was just easier to wallow in the shit for a while than to actually climb out of it.
And he hadn’t slept. And he’d been sick. He had to feel like death. Give him a good night’s sleep and a healthy dinner, and then he’d be ready to talk more sensibly about what had happened last night.
“Yeah. I’m ready.” She gave a cursory glance around the room, turned off the TV, and grabbed her bag.
They just needed to get back home. Back to the familiar and away from whatever reminder Carol and Antonio had awakened in him last night. Then they could put this incident behind them and get back to moving forward.
Chapter 30
One day you will wake up and there won't be any more time to do the thing you've always wanted. Do it now.
-Paulo Coelho
Mark didn’t talk much on the drive home, and she was too exhausted to care.
Once home, he disappeared upstairs and collapsed on the bed while she napped on the couch. She didn’t see him again until dinner, which was a silent meal of soup and sandwiches. Then he returned to bed and slept straight through to Monday morning.
He was up, showered, and out the door by five o’clock, before Karma had even fully awakened.
That night, he worked late, arriving home after she was already in bed.
Same thing Tuesday.
And Wednesday.
By Thursday, they’d barely said two sentences to each other since Sunday morning, and she might have gotten a total of ten hours of sleep. He seemed to be getting worse, not better, and Karma had no idea how to break through the thick-as-Hoover-Dam-and-just-as-tall wall he’d erected between them.
For the first time, she worried their relationship might not survive.
She didn’t know what to do, what to say. She didn’t even fully understand what was wrong. Carol was at the heart of it, but his behavior seemed extreme for Carol to be the only problem.
This was something more, but he wouldn’t talk to her about what that was.
And it didn’t make sense. After all the confessions about the things he’d been holding back from her . . . after reassuring her there was nothing else . . . what could possibly be so bad that Mark would completely shut her out? It was as if he were preparing her for the worst. That any second he would tell her he was leaving.
Just the thought frayed her already fragile emotions. She hadn’t slept well all week, grabbing only a few hours each night, and now she was freaking out, paranoid he might already have one foot out the door. What if he left? Where would she go? What would she do?
All day Thursday, she paced her office, restless, unable to focus on her assignments, chewing her fingernails, which was something she hadn’t done since high school.
Thursday night, she couldn’t sleep and went downstairs to watch dismal late-night TV until she nodded off on the couch around four in the morning.
By Friday afternoon, she’d had enough. She’d given him five days. Tonight, she would sit him down and force the issue. Because she couldn’t take this, anymore. They were living under the same roof but felt more like roommates who merely tolerated one another than two people who were supposed to be in love and building a life together.
She wanted her fiancé back. She wanted to bring to light whatever was bothering him so they could deal with it and move on. And if they couldn’t? Well, then they needed to talk about what that meant. Because if he was still hung up on Carol—and it seemed as though he was—then she couldn’t stay. If he was never going to get over that woman, her ego couldn’t take a blow that big.
Dropping her head into her hands, she began to cry. Her happily ever after was crumbling to pieces, the glass slipper shattering while she was still wearing it.
A week ago, they’d been so happy. Now, she was as miserable as when he’d left two summers ago. It felt like they were coming to an end all over again.
How had it come to this?
* * *
“She’s going to leave me.”
“What?” Rob said.
Mark leaned back in his chair, raking his hand through his hair, holding his phone to his ear with the other. “She’s going to leave me,” he said again. “I just know it.”
“Karma? You’re crazy.”
“No.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m fucking it all up, and she’s going to walk.” Of course Karma would leave. They all left. One way or another, every woman he had ever cared about left him.
“Is this about last weekend? Are you still hung up on what happened with Carol?”
Mark stood and paced to the window. “You don’t get it. You don’t know the horrible shit I did to Karma when we got back to the room.”
“What do you mean?” Concern laced Rob’s voice.
“I fucked her.”
Silence.
“And I didn’t just fuck her, Rob. I used her. I used her like she was nothing more than a whore I’d picked up off the street. And then I just shut down. I couldn’t even look her in the eye after that.” He rubbed his palm over his face. “What kind of asshole does something like that to the woman he’s supposed to love.”
“Was she upset?”
“That’s the sick part. She seemed okay with what I did. She said she wanted to be there for me when I needed her.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He flung his hand to his side. “What do you mean, what’s the problem? She obviously doesn’t know what she’s saying. She obviously doesn’t understand what I did was wrong. That I’m not the kind of man she needs. I mean, why would she need someone who’s going to treat her that way? She deserves better.”
“Are you listening to yourself,” Rob said. “Listen to what you’re saying.” Rob paused before continuing, as if he were carefully choosing his words. When he spoke again, his words came out firm and slow. “You’re pushing her away. This isn’t about her wanting to leave you. This is about you being terrified of the possibility that she might leave without having any proof that she will.”
“Wait a minute, I—”
“No, you wait a minute, Mark. You’re transferring your fears onto her as if they’re hers and not yours. She told you she was okay with what happened, and yet you’re sitting there thinking she lied. Has Karma ever been known to lie?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why would you think she’s lying now?”
“But she doesn’t understand what I did . . that what I did was wrong.”
“Bullshit. She understands what you did better than you do.”
Mark bobbed his head back, frowning. “What?”
“You heard me. Karma is more in tune with what you need than you give her credit for. You were fucked up after you ran into Carol and Antonio. Anyone could have seen that. They caught you off guard, because they weren’t supposed to be there. But shit happens, and they were. And it jacked you up the way seeing them always does. Only this time, you had Karma to help you through it. She saw how fucked up you were. She knew you needed to let off steam. And she willingly let you vent that steam on her. She knew exactly what she was doing and why, and now you’re discrediting her choice, diminishing it by saying she didn’t know what she was doing. Mark, you need to take a really hard look at your fiancée. She loves you and is undeniably devoted to you. And it sounds like she’s willing to do whatever it takes to get you through this. Maybe it’s time you level with her one hundred percent.”
Mark slumped into his chair. As usual
, he was too deep in his own shit to know which way led out. It took Rob to give him some perspective.
“You’re right.” He hung his head and dragged his hand over his face. “Fuck, I’ve been such an ass.”
Rob sighed. “Remember at your mom’s birthday party when I told you I thought you were subconsciously pushing Karma away? You swept my concerns under the rug. Well, do you believe me now? Do you think there might be some truth to that, after all?”
“Yeah, okay.” Mark dropped his hand to his desk and let the chair catch him as he rocked back. “Maybe you were right.”
“You’re too deep in the forest to see the damn trees, buddy. I’m not. I’m above looking down, and I can see exactly where you are and where you need to go to get out of the weeds.”
“In other words, I’m still fucking things up and might have already pushed Karma too far to save our relationship.” He couldn’t lose her. He’d die if he did.
“That’s not what I’m saying. If you’d pushed her too far, she’d already be gone. But you’ve got to fix this.”
Mark swiveled his chair around and checked his calendar. He had to get on a conference call in ten minutes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You need to talk to Carol, man. The sooner the better. And maybe Antonio, too.” Rob spoke definitively, as if he’d reached inside Mark’s mind and pulled the words straight from his thoughts.
“You got her number?” Mark straightened and grabbed his pen.
“Yep.”
“Give it to me.”
It took Rob a few seconds to pull it up, and then he recited the information as Mark jotted it on his notepad.
“Call her now,” Rob said. “Tell her the two of you need to meet this weekend. Don’t take no for an answer. Then go home, tell Karma you’re sorry for being a total boner for the past week, tell her you’re going to talk to Carol and resolve this once and for all, and then make love to her until she can’t see straight. That’s what Karma deserves, Mark. She deserves the truth. And she deserves to know you love her enough to fix this.”
Mark glanced out the window at the refreshingly blue skies. It was a perfect day to finally set things right and get his head out of his ass once and for all. “Man, when did you turn into such a romantic.”
“It’s Holly’s fault.”
“Of course it is.”
Rob chuckled. “Okay, now go. Do this. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Definitely. And Rob?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“What are best friends for?”
They said their good-byes, and then Mark took a deep breath and dialed Carol’s number. Shit, his hands were shaking. But, damn it, he could do this. He had to. His future with Karma depended on it.
Her voicemail picked up.
“Carol, hey, it’s Mark.” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I know I’m probably the last person you expected to hear from, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “I think we really need to talk. It’s been long enough, and I can’t . . . I don’t want . . . I mean, I’m trying to move on with my life, but . . .” He was tripping over his tongue like an idiot. “Just . . . please give me a call back. I promise, I just want to talk. I just want to put closure on what happened between us, and I can’t do that until we’ve cleared the air.” He rattled off both his office number and his cell number. “I hope to hear from you soon. And, about Saturday night, I’m sorry for how I reacted when I saw you. I, uh . . . I just hadn’t expected to see you there.” He cleared his throat. “Please apologize to Antonio for me, too.”
He disconnected and took a shaky breath. Okay, that hadn’t been so bad. He’d blathered like an imbecile and set the world record for how many times someone could say the word just in thirty seconds, but he’d gotten out what he needed to say and hadn’t spun into a gastrointestinal meltdown.
But now he needed to shift gears. It was time for his conference call. He poked his head out the door. “Kit?”
She glanced up from her computer. “Yes.”
“Can you answer my line while I’m on my conference call?”
“Sure.”
“And if someone named Carol calls, please interrupt me. It’s very important I speak to her right away.”
“Absolutely. I’ll interrupt if Carol calls.” She nodded once. Her sign that she’d programmed his directive into her brain.
“Thanks.” He closed his door and returned to his desk.
One way or another, this shit with Carol was getting resolved by Monday, even if he had to drive up to Chicago and force the issue.
Chapter 31
Don’t worry when I fight with you. Worry when I stop, because it means there’s nothing left for us to fight for.
-Author Unknown
Karma wandered blindly into the cavernous walk-in closet, her fingers skimming the sleeves of Mark’s suits.
She’d showered, and water still dripped off the ends of her hair. The robe Mark had bought her two summers ago hung loosely from her shoulders.
She’d gone running with Daniel to help clear her head. He’d known something was wrong, and even though his curiosity and concern had been written all over his face, he hadn’t pushed for details.
But something had happened during their run that now played on repeat in her thoughts.
They had decided to run the winding, looping trail they normally took in reverse. Why they would change things up today of all days was a mystery. But Daniel had led her left instead of right, and she’d simply taken his direction in stride.
As they crested a shallow rise she’d jogged over a hundred times from the other direction, she came to an abrupt stop and gasped. The rolling meadow, dotted by trees, spread out in front of her like an enchanted, undiscovered land, bright green with uncut springtime grass and young leaves. It had been unseasonably warm the past couple of weeks, so the first bright yellow dandelions were blooming, adding a touch of charm.
“Wow.”
Daniel stopped and gave her a quizzical glance. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just . . .” She waved her hand toward the view, lit magically by the sun with not a cloud in the sky. “It just looks a lot different coming from this direction. Prettier.” Breathtaking was more apropos.
Laughing, Daniel jogged in place to keep his legs loose. “Isn’t it funny how that works? You see something over and over and never really see it. Then, one day, you change your perspective, and suddenly everything looks different.”
. . . you change your perspective, and suddenly everything looks different.
Was that what she needed to do with Mark? Maybe she’d been seeing him through rose-colored glasses all this time. Seeing what she wanted to see instead of what was really there.
She had spent the rest of her run in silence, her mind sorting through all her memories of Mark while her body went through the motions of keeping up with Daniel.
For months, Mark had continually insinuated he wasn’t good enough for her, and she’d kept telling him that wasn’t true. Well, maybe it was. Maybe she needed to get real and take off her blinders and see Mark for the man he kept trying to convince her he was.
Her bare feet sank into the plush eggshell-colored carpet. Her mind resisted the idea that Mark was an unredeemable, broken man with nothing more to offer.
She plucked the navy pinstriped suit she loved so much off the rack. Even the hanger was top-of-the-line, made of polished wood and soft curves so it didn’t stretch the fabric.
Peeling back the collar, she read the label. Hugo Boss. Nice. Not cheap.
She put the suit back and picked up another. A shimmery charcoal grey with a delicate, weaved pattern in the wool. Armani.
She continued reading the labels. Ralph Lauren. Gucci. Stefano Pilati. Carlo Brandelli. Tom Ford. And so many more.
But there were just as many regular joe labels as designer ones. Hanes, for example. He owned several Hanes T-shirts like the ones
he wore to bed or to play basketball in.
Basketball.
Her gaze fell to the duffel bag tucked in the corner as another memory struck her. The bag was the same one he’d taken to the basketball court when she’d driven up to Chicago to surprise him after kids broke into his apartment two summers ago. That had been a bizarre weekend. He’d gotten angry at her for finding . . .
She turned toward his dresser. On top sat the small, ornate box she’d seen on this same dresser in Chicago.
Her lips parted as she exhaled, her heart skipping a beat. She remembered the night they’d argued at his apartment all too well. She’d found a pair of wedding rings and a diamond necklace in his gym bag, and, hypnotized as any woman would be by all the sparkles, she’d slipped the woman’s ring on her finger.
Mark had caught her, and he’d erupted. He’d accused her of snooping, lecturing her and snatching the jewelry from her. Then he’d thrown both the ring and the necklace in that box, slamming the lid closed.
He’d been so angry that night. The ring had been Carol’s. The necklace had been meant as a wedding gift to her. One he’d planned on giving her on their honeymoon.
But then Carol had jilted him, leaving him standing alone in front of hundreds of guests so she could run off with Antonio.
She didn’t want to think the jewelry was still here, but dread siphoned through her veins as she crept toward the dresser, eyes on the box.
Gingerly, she placed her fingertips on the sides of the lid, took a deep breath, and lifted.
Inside, she found his platinum and onyx cufflinks and matching ring, his Tag Heuer watch, a Rolex, a pair of Montblanc pens, a few trinkets, and there . . . buried beneath it all . . . were the necklace and his and her wedding bands.