"I love you," I close my eyes, kissing him again.
And that's when I gasp, waking up to the cold darkness of the living room, tears rolling down my cheeks. I throw the blanket; I don't remember putting on myself off and run to the kitchen. There is no Travis, no omelet, and no man who knew me inside and out, who lived me through every part of my recovery. Walking over to the kitchen sink, I wet my face, and that's when I catch a whiff of the cologne he wore, I feel a brush at my neck, and I smile. He always came up behind me, pulled my hair to the side, and kissed me on the neck.
In the silence, I hear a slight I love you too, and immediately, I know everything will be okay. It won't happen overnight. Things like this take time, but me and the Heaven Hill crew? We'll be okay.
Chapter Six
A few days later I'm in the salon, checking on my stock when someone comes through the front door. "I'll be there in a sec!"
The last thing I expect is the owner of the building to be standing in front of me with some paperwork in his hands. "I was served," he speaks softly. "By the Charity Walker Law Office saying that you're suing me for breach of contract."
I had no idea she was going to do this, but I nod anyway. "Yes, Harry, we are. You're trying to kick me out of the only place I've ever had to run a salon. This is a business with an impeccable reputation, and starting over will be hard. I've built a brand here."
"All of those terms are laid out in this summons. I'm here to ask you not to make this ugly. I'm willing to sell you the building for fifty thousand, which is well below the yearly rent you pay here. I would just prefer that all of this not come out," he points to the papers in his hands.
I have no idea what Charity dug up, but it must be good if he's shaking in his shoes this bad. "Sounds reasonable to me. Should I have my lawyer get with yours?"
"No, I'd like this to be a personal transaction. Can you get a time where both of us can be there with her to sign the paperwork? The sooner the better."
"I'll make sure and do that as soon as possible. I'm sorry it had to be like this."
And I truly am, he's been good to me over the years, but greed can sometimes be a hard thing to give up. Money and power, they're the ruin of so many kings of industry and if he doesn't watch, he'll be one of them. He hands me a card with his personal cell number on it, which I've never had in all the years I've rented from him.
"Just give me a call."
The next hour is free, and I work on securing the collateral to purchase this building. It's one I've wanted a long time, and I've been covertly saving for it, without telling anyone for years. My hope was that it would eventually come up for sale and I would get first crack at it. As I'm getting off the phone with a small business loan officer at the local bank, for the remainder of what I need, I hear Charity's voice.
"Christy! Are you here?"
I rush out of the back, huge smile on my face. "Thank you so much!"
"I take it Harry came by and told you, you can have your building?" She grins. "He's done some really crappy things over the past few years, and he's pushed that stuff under the rug, but luckily for me and you, Caelin found more than enough to make him amenable to our demands."
"I don't know how to ever truly thank you."
She pushes something forward, and for the first time, I see Justice standing at her side. "You can start by doing this one's hair. It's a rat’s nest."
Immediately I freeze, I'm not sure what to do. Justice comes forward, holding her hand out to me. "I've missed you Christy. Can you make my hair look gorgeous?"
Just like that I'm back to a year ago when she and Harley came here every six weeks, and we'd laugh the entire time. "What are we thinking today?"
I hold her hand as I walk her over to one of my chairs, getting her situated. "Mom can I do a fun color? You know like Harley did that one time?"
Back then Christine had blown a gasket, but she looks relieved to see Justice asking for it. The smile on her face is genuine and so are the tears in her eyes. "Yes, whichever color you want! If Harley is jealous, we'll come get hers done tomorrow."
"What color do you want?" I ask her as I play with her hair.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. "What about a turquoise blue? I think Caelin would like that, don’t you?"
I'm taken aback, but I also know what it means to be a girl with a crush. Caelin's bike has a turquoise blue streak on the side painted to look like the sky over a horizon. Everyone had given him shit for it, but he'd stood his ground and kept it. I smile at her. "I think he'll love it, and I think you'll look pretty with some streaks in your hair."
As I get to work, doing what I've done for so many years, I feel at ease. The camaraderie that I've been missing comes back as I talk to the two of them, laughing about things baby Mac has done.
When they leave, I’m drawn to my cell phone. I still haven’t answered Stephen’s question, even though he’s come to see me every morning. Getting my nerve up, I grab it.
C: Yes, the answer is yes. Pick a day and a time. Please be patient with me, but I’m ready.
S: Always, you won’t regret this Chris.
And I know without a doubt I won’t, because this is my life now. I’ve got to cherish it, live it, and make the best of it I can. In memory of Travis, and in the memory of the Christy I used to be.
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Sneak Peak: Room 143
Prologue
Nash
wid·ow·er
/ˈwidō(ə)r/
Noun
A man who has lost his spouse by death and has not remarried.
Widower.
I twirl my platinum wedding band around my ring finger. It’s tight now, slightly getting caught on the knuckle, not moving as easily as it once did. It’s sat in the same spot since the day I got married. It’s stayed through three years of marriage, three epic, knock-down drag-out fights, and one horrific automobile accident that killed my wife and our unborn child. It was there the day of her funeral, three hundred and sixty-five days later when I finally got up the courage to take apart the nursery, and right now, one thousand ninety-five days later as I sit on my couch wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life.
Most everyone says I should be moving on. I’m young and I don’t have to stay alone forever. There are plenty of women who would be happy to help me get back in the saddle, so to speak. Women throw themselves at me every day. Where I work, where I eat, where I run my three miles a day and do my pull-ups at the local park. Opportunities and free pussy are literally everywhere and being handed to me on a silver platter.
What everyone doesn’t know, is I’ve tried. More than once, I’ve done my best to put the memories I have behind me, to try and build new ones with someone else. Fuck, I’ve even gone so far as to get drunk and have a one-night stand. Truth of the matter is I still feel like I’m married, still look for her in crowds, and sometimes when I come home at night, I even yell her name. For a few moments I actually wait to see if I can he
ar her.
She’d be singing in that horrible tone-deaf voice of hers. Or she’d be trying to wrangle our big boxer into taking a bath before he climbed into our bed that night. The way he’d work his way in between us, me bitching, her giggling plays over and over again like a highlight reel of someone else’s life. Only it’s not.
It was my perfect life. Before it all got dumped in the shitter thanks to one dumbass who couldn’t wait at a red light.
The only thing left of those times are me, the dog, and the memories.
Tilting my head back against the leather of the couch, my vision blurs as I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. Bailey, the crazy boxer comes over, whining before hopping up onto the couch and putting her head on my thigh.
She knows.
About the emptiness, the regret, and the goddamn pain.
“Yeah girl, I miss her too,” I push out the words, my bottom lip trembling. “I miss everything about our lives back then.”
Tears come at weird times, as do the waves of grief, the fucking gut-wrenching anguish. Nobody prepared me for those. It’s always been, time heals all wounds, Nash. The fuck it does. I’m still here, hurting like I’ve been hurting for the past five years with no end in sight.
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Christine (Heaven Hill Shorts Book 2) Page 3