“That’s not acceptable,” the cop barked back.
“With all due respect, officer, unless you have authority to arrest her, we’re leaving.”
With a disgruntled sigh, the officer turned and walked away.
Michael put his arm around Maryanne’s waist. She half stumbled, half walked with him all the way to the car, where he helped her climb into the back seat.
I drove my car to Michael’s apartment.
“You should rest,” Michael told Maryanne when we got back.
“I don’t want to,” she protested, sitting down on one of the black leather couches.
“Take this; it will make you feel better.” Michael got another Xanax out of the prescription bottle and handed it to Maryanne. “I’ll go get you some water.”
“What is this?” she asked me in a feeble voice when he’d left the room.
“It’s Xanax,” I said. “Don’t you remember taking one earlier? It will help with the anxiety.”
“I can’t imagine anything would help right now,” she said, her eyes filling up again. “But I’ll take it. Maybe it will kill me, and put me out of my misery.”
“Don’t say that!” I exclaimed.
Maryanne didn’t answer.
Michael came back with a glass of water. He handed it to Maryanne and she dutifully swallowed the pill. Michael sat down on the other couch. He had been our rock throughout the awful morning, but now he looked absolutely exhausted.
Maryanne curled up in the fetal position. Soon, her breathing became steady and I knew she had fallen asleep.
“Drowsiness is a side effect,” Michael assured me. “And it’s safe for her to have two. It’s the lowest dose.”
“Okay.” I paused and ran my hand along the smooth leather, trying to think of what to say.
“Weird morning, huh?” Michael commented, breaking the silence.
“That’s an understatement. Do you really believe Sabrina could be behind this?”
“Can you think of anyone else?” he countered. “Of course, it’s not fair to just assume that. We need to wait and hear the autopsy report. Hopefully that will shed some light on Damon’s mysterious death.”
“I still can’t believe she came here last night,” I said in a low voice. I glanced over at Maryanne, who was still sleeping soundly. As gently as possible, I got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen. “Can I have a drink?”
“Of the alcoholic variety?” Michael asked wryly.
I smiled. “I had meant water, but wine sounds better. I may just become an alcoholic after all of this,” I muttered.
Michael got up and we went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a half empty bottle of white, getting two wine glasses out of the cabinet.
Did he drink the other half by himself? Or had Abigail come back here after they were at the bar? I had to know, even if it meant accepting that he’d hooked up with her.
“Maryanne saw you out with Abigail Sunday,” I blurted out. “Did you sleep with her?”
Michael looked over at me in surprise. “Of course not,” he said. He handed me a glass of wine. “I went to the bar Sunday because I was going crazy in this place. Everything reminded me of you,” he said. He took a sip of wine and looked away. “I would sit down on the couch and try to watch TV, and thoughts of you snuggled up next to me were almost unbearable. Then I tried to drink some wine and knock myself out, but being in the bedroom was almost worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about making love to you, then falling asleep with you in my arms.”
Michael walked towards me and engulfed me in a hug. “I even miss the way your hair makes my nose itch,” he teased.
I felt so warm and safe and protected in his arms. We stood there, embracing, and I could feel Michael getting hard against me.
He pulled back with an embarrassed laugh. “Not exactly the appropriate time for that, but I’m afraid that’s just the effect you have on me.”
I smiled and sat down at the kitchen table. “Finish telling me about Sunday,” I said. I still didn’t know why he was at the bar with Abigail.
“That stupid bitch must have been watching my apartment. She claimed to just have happened to be at the same bar, but I didn’t buy that it was a coincidence.” Michael frowned. “I should have sent her away, or got up and left myself, but I wasn’t in my right mind. I sat there, talking to her for about an hour,” he admitted.
I could feel the jealously and rage building up inside of me. “And?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“And nothing,” Michael said lightly. “I was reminded of all of the things I dislike about her. Oh, she expected more, don’t get me wrong. I shouldn’t have egged her on like that. She thought she was going to come home with me.”
“Did you even consider it?” I asked, my heart racing.
“I’m not going to lie to you; yes, I did. But I knew, even in my screwed up state, that it would just make things worse. I almost wanted to do it, just to get back at you,” he said sheepishly. “I really thought you’d played me all this time, Lana. But now I know how wrong I was.”
“It’s okay,” I said, relief washing over me that he hadn’t slept with Abigail.
“When I left the bar Abigail got really angry to find out that she wasn’t coming home with me. She tried to kiss me and I let her – but only for a second,” he hurriedly added.
“While we’re admitting things, Damon tried to kiss me, too. I had to pretend I was planning to leave with him,” I said.
Michael’s jaw tightened and he took another sip of wine. “At least they’re both out of our lives now. Shit, that’s a terrible thing for me to say. I feel so bad for Maryanne right now.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I don’t know how she’ll ever recover from this.”
“She will,” Michael assured me. “It’s clichéd, but it really does take time. Time doesn’t make it any less painful – you just get used to it, you learn to live with the pain. And eventually, you find that you aren’t thinking about it daily anymore.”
“Is that how it was with your mother?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “Although Damon’s death is more of a shock. At least we had warning before my mom died.”
Michael sat down next to me at the table and clasped my hand in his. “I really love you, Lana. I’m so glad you didn’t leave.”
“Me, too,” I whispered. “I love you so much, Michael.”
We sat there staring at each other, both knowing what we wanted to feel, what we wanted to do, but there would be plenty of time to make love to Michael again. We had all the time in the world.
###
Michael insisted that Maryanne and I sleep in his bed, and he’d take the couch. We managed to drag her to his room when she finally woke up, still drowsy from the medicine.
Maryanne was sleeping soundly, but I was lying there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. I kept mulling over the last week of my life, trying to understand how it had come to this.
I felt terrible for Maryanne, but the relief of Damon being out of my life for good was overwhelming. There was still one nagging question in my mind: could my mother really be capable of such a thing? But who else could it be? I didn’t know how I would feel if I had a daughter, how I would react if she were in danger. I had no right to judge Sabrina, really. If she’s even responsible for this.
Knowing I wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep, I finally gave in to the insomnia and quietly got out of bed, being careful not to disturb Maryanne. When I got to the living room, Michael was sprawled out on the couch, the TV on a low volume.
He turned when he heard me come in. “Can’t sleep either?” he asked, sitting up.
“No,” I replied. I sat down next Michael. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned back against his chest. “I feel so guilty,” I said. “I hate that I’ve caused Maryanne pain.”
“We don’t know for sure that Sabrina is responsible,” Michael reminded me.
/> “Right, but do you really believe it’s got nothing to do with me?”
Michael sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll have more answers after the autopsy.”
“Maybe,” I said skeptically.
“You and Maryanne are welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Michael offered.
I looked up at him gratefully. “After she’s thinking more clearly, we’ll figure it out.”
“Are you going back to classes tomorrow? Or the hospital?” Michael asked.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” I admitted. “I was so certain I would have to leave…” My voice trailed off.
“Is that why you said you didn’t think you wanted kids?” Michael asked, changing the subject.
I knew that meant my dark angel half.
“Yes. Who knows if a child would even be safe with me? I can’t guarantee anyone’s protection, not even my own; the only reason they haven’t found me is because of the marking.” I paused. “How do you feel about not having kids?”
“I’m not sure what I think about the future,” Michael admitted. “But I definitely wouldn’t want them now – or anytime soon, to be honest. And if you never changed your mind, I would be okay with that, as long as I had you.”
I turned to face Michael and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft; my entire body relaxed and I ran my fingers through his hair. We kept kissing; my body was aching for him but neither of us made a move to take it any farther. Maryanne was sleeping soundly, but both of us knew it wouldn’t be right to do anything more than kiss.
I melted into Michael’s arms, enjoying the moment, almost forgetting about the nightmare of the past week.
###
The next day Michael had to go to work earlier than usual. Since I was a good student, I figured my teachers would understand why I had to miss class to help my best friend deal with the death of her boyfriend.
Maryanne was quiet, but at least she seemed to be functioning – well, sort of. I managed to get her to drink some coffee and choke down a couple of crackers before Ira Gold arrived to take her to the police station to give a statement.
Once I was alone, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Not having slept much the night before, I tried to take a nap in Michael’s bed, but it was useless. I was going to have to hit pure exhaustion before I’d be able to sleep again. Right now, everything was too weird.
Maybe I can get Michael to write me a script for Ambien. I had taken it the first part of my freshmen year, but I didn’t like the way it made my head clouded the next day, so I had finally decided to try and live with the insomnia.
Michael had said he’d tell the nurses that I wouldn’t be in all week (after all, they already knew we were together), but I’d probably have to go back the following week. It didn’t make sense to abandon the job, as much as I hated it, because if I was serious about getting into med school I needed the experience on my application.
Maryanne returned more quickly than I’d expected. “How did it go?” I asked.
“Fine. They weren’t accusatory or anything. Just asked me some questions about…how I found him. Ira was really nice.” Maryanne sat down on the couch. “Thank Michael again for me.”
“Can’t you thank him yourself?” I asked in surprise.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“What? Where are you going?” I demanded. Maryanne was in no frame of mind to start making life decisions, not right after a tragedy.
“My mom is flying here and we’re driving my car back. I’m taking a leave of absence from school,” she replied, not looking at me.
“Don’t you want to think about it some more? You know, let your mind clear before you decide what you want to do?” I asked gently.
Maryanne finally looked at me. “There’s nothing for me here,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, Maryanne.” I hugged her to me. “I’m here for you,” I said, my voice muffled by her hair.
“I know you are, and I love you, Lana, but I have to leave.” She squirmed out of my embrace and looked me in the eyes. I could see by her expression that she had already made up her mind and there was no changing it.
“Are you coming back?” I whispered.
She shrugged. “Maybe next semester. Maybe not. Right now I can’t bear the thought of being here. Everything reminds me of Damon.” Her voice cracked.
“It’s okay to cry. I’m here for you,” I tried to reassure her.
But Maryanne shook her head. “I don’t want to cry anymore, not right now at least.”
I could feel my own eyes brimming with tears. “If you leave, I’m scared I’ll never see you again.” What a hypocrite I was. Merely twenty-four hours ago I had been planning to abandon Maryanne, and now I was trying to stop her from going home, getting away from everything that reminded her of her dead boyfriend.
Before she could respond, I said quickly, “Of course I know I’ll see you again. You’re my best friend. You’ve got to do whatever feels right. And if getting away for a while is what it takes to make this horrible situation a little more bearable, then do it. I will support you no matter what.”
“Thanks, Lana,” she whispered. I squeezed her hand. “My car is still at Damon’s place,” she continued. “Do you think I could borrow yours to go home and start packing?”
“Of course,” I said. “And Michael and I will go pick up your car when he gets back.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” I replied. “I can help you pack.”
“No,” she said. “I just kind of feel like being alone.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“Please, I have to do this my way. I’ll be okay. It just takes time, right?” Maryanne forced a half smile, trying to put on a brave face for me.
“Okay,” I said, “but I’ll be home later with your car. We can stay there or come back to Michael’s place. He really doesn’t mind.”
“I know, but I’ll sleep better in my own bed,” Maryanne replied.
I hugged her again and watched her drive off in my car, hoping I hadn’t made a terrible decision by not insisting she couldn’t be alone.
Maryanne texted me when she got back to let me know she’d arrived home safely; I continued to check on her all afternoon. She seemed to be doing okay; at least she was holding her own.
I had finally started to relax a little bit when Michael got home. “How’s Maryanne?” he immediately asked. “Still sleeping?”
“No, she went home to pack.” I explained Maryanne’s plans to Michael.
“Maybe it really will do her good to get away,” Michael suggested. He touched my face. “Don’t look so sad. She’ll be back.”
“You really think so?” I asked.
“Maryanne is strong, and she’s got you to come back to. Death makes people do strange things. Just give her space, let her heal.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “I can still text her and call her, and when she feels up to visitors we could take a weekend trip and go see her?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Michael paused. “Think you can spare a half hour before we get Maryanne’s car?” He lowered his voice. “I don’t think I can wait one minute longer to fuck you.”
It was all of the encouragement I needed. I practically tackled Michael onto the couch. Laughing, we pulled off each other’s clothing in record time, surrendering to the delicious feeling of our intertwined bodies.
Chapter 33
The next few weeks passed by quickly. Maryanne left with her mother, promising to stay in touch. And so far, she had been true to her word. We talked or texted every few days, and a couple of weeks after being back home she got a part-time job waiting tables.
I was relieved that Maryanne was adjusting, even though it was forced, to living without Damon. I still felt guilty, but as MA started seeming more and more like her old self, some of the guilt started to fade.
Damon’s autopsy had come back and the official cause of death was heart failure. It was explained away as an undiagnosed heart condition. I would never know if my mother was responsible, and truthfully, I didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter how she chose to live her life; I had to focus on myself. And I knew that with Michael in the picture I could never become a true dark angel.
I celebrated my twenty-first birthday two months after Maryanne left. It was bittersweet, not having my best friend there for the event. But Michael, in his typical style, took me to a posh restaurant, got me flowers – which he sent to work, now that our relationship was completely out in the open – and gave me a beautiful pearl necklace that matched my earrings and ring.
Shortly after that, he celebrated his thirtieth birthday, and although I couldn’t shower him with gifts, I gave him presents in other ways…
When Michael asked me to move in with him, I readily agreed. Life fell into an easy, happy routine, where all of our free time was spent together.
Finally, for the first time in my life, I truly knew that I had found happiness with Michael, and that nothing could ruin it.
Epilogue
Not long now, he thought.
It had taken careful planning, careful preparation; he didn’t usually have so much patience, but this was a one-shot deal. He couldn’t fuck it up.
After Sabrina’s visit, he knew that he had to abandon his original plan for Lana. Sabrina hadn’t minced words. Lana’s heart belonged to someone, and it wasn’t him.
He had pretended to go along with her demands, to back down, but this didn’t change the end result at all; no, rather, it just altered the course a bit.
Because Damon Winters was determined to either have Lana Luna to himself or to die trying. He laughed, picturing the astonishment Maryanne must have felt when she found the body. She was a nice girl, and he didn’t want to hurt her; she was just an unfortunate casualty of war.
It had been easy, really, for Damon to fake his own death.
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