The Man Next Door: Orchard Heights Book 2 - standalone

by Roya Carmen

  He smiled, and that playful grin of his was exactly what I wanted to capture. He also had the most beautiful, kindest eyes I’d ever seen. He obliged, and sat on the sofa for me. I told him to stay still, and he did, shooting me impish smiles here and there. My hands danced above my sketch pad as I brought him to life. I’ve never been a gifted artist, but I’d learned and practiced enough to be decent. The final result wasn’t great, but not completely horrible either. There was a touch of a resemblance, and when I finally showed him, his whole face lit up. “That’s pretty good.”

  I laughed. “It’s okay, but I shouldn’t quit my day job anytime soon.”

  “Well, maybe an art career is not in your future, but you know what you need to do, right?”

  I cocked a brow, curious. “What’s that?”

  “You’re the most caring and giving person I’ve ever met, Abigail. You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.”

  I smiled. “And what can big hearts do?”

  “They can help people.”

  “How so?”

  He took my hand. “Think about it, Abigail. Who was there for you when your mom died?”

  “Caroline,” I said, softly. I’d talked about her quite a few times. She was the social worker involved in my mother’s case. She’d been there for me, had helped me pull through.

  “You think I’d be a good social worker?”

  A wide smile stretched across his face. “The best.”

  I’d been floundering, not knowing what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I hadn't applied for college. I was aimless, floating through life, content to just be by Gavin’s side.

  “You’re too smart to not do anything with your life, Abigail,” he told me. “You’re not like the rest of us here. You’re meant for more.”

  His words shocked me. He was pushing me away. “But I don’t want to go off to college. I want to stay here with you.”

  He smiled. “I can wait. I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”

  “Really?”

  “There’s no one else for me, Abigail. There will never be.”

  I threw myself at him and gave him the biggest hug known to man. He laughed and kissed the tip of my nose like he always did. “Okay, I get to sketch you now.”

  I laughed, and settled on the sofa. “I can’t wait for this.”

  I watched him as he focused, alternating between scribbling on the sketch pad and studying me intently. He was so sexy, I wanted to rip the pad right out of his hands and throw myself at him right then and there.

  When he finally finished and handed me my drawing, we both cracked up. It was horrible. He had managed to create a weird mix between a cartoon character and an old woman.

  “I love it,” I told him. “I’m going to frame it and hang it on my wall.”

  I was joking at the time, but that’s exactly what I ended up doing. To this day, it hangs on the wall in my bedroom. It’s one of the many mementoes I have of Gavin. I’m lucky to have them, along with my memories. I’ll always have them.

  As much pain as my relationship with Gavin has brought me, I wouldn’t change it for the world. How many people are lucky enough to be loved so passionately? Most never get to experience the kind of connection Gavin and I shared. Perfect love. And for that, I’ll forever be grateful.

  38

  It’s been a week since Abe left. I’ve been keeping busy with work, hoping that it might help me think less about him. Unfortunately, it hasn’t. I’ve been flighty and distracted, my mind full of Abe. In fact, I’ve been practically obsessed.

  I’ve taken my conversation with the girls into consideration, but I’ve been too much of a chicken to actually go out and do something about it, too afraid he might reject me.

  I found his profile on Facebook, the real him; Abraham Reed. All this time, he had this life, this life I used to be part of. I smile at the sight of photos of him and Adele. It’s been eighteen years, but she hasn’t changed that much. She has the same friendly smile and sparkly blue eyes. Her hair is lighter and not quite as lustrous as it used to be, and fine lines surround the edges of her eyes and mouth, but she’s still the same Adele.

  As it turns out, Abe does have friends, quite a few of them. I debate sending him a friend request, but ultimately I decide not to. It would be too forward. I content myself with stalking his profile, hoping for a post, a clue of where he might be at, but no such luck. His feed is sporadic, and I’m not too optimistic.

  I’m just getting in, my arms full of grocery bags when my cell pings. I’m not too eager to answer it. Melanie’s been hounding me all day. Doesn’t she realize it’s the weekend? In her defense, she’s quite invested in our current case, a young runaway from a broken home. I admire her dedication to her work.

  When I finally set the bags on the counter and check my phone, my breath almost gets away from me. A text from Abe.

  It’s just a link, but it might as well be the holy grail. My finger works at lightning speed as I click on it. It takes me to a YouTube video.

  There he is, sitting on a blue sofa I’ve never seen. He’s wearing a blue Superman t-shirt and his hair is mussed up just the way I like it. God, why does he have to be so beautiful?

  “Hello, everyone. I know it’s been a while, but I’m back.”

  His playful smile tugs at my heart, reminding me of everything I’m missing.

  “This is my latest song,” he adds. “ I just wrote it yesterday.” He dips his head and settles his hands on his guitar.

  “I’ve written it for a girl I’ve loved my whole life,” he goes on. “The most amazing woman I know. It’s called Hopeless.”

  He lifts his head again. “Abby, this one’s for you. I know it’s complicated between us, and I’m not the greatest at expressing myself.” His smile is shy. “But I’m not too bad when I’m writing my songs.”

  He starts strumming, and my eyes are glued to the small screen of my phone, my heart in my throat. The beautiful acoustic sound fills my kitchen, and I raise the volume.

  “Golden hair under the sun,

  She was so pretty then.

  When she held my hand…

  For the first time.”

  “I was hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  “She was a friend.

  The sweetest kind.

  When she laughed,

  She lit up my world.”

  “I was hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  “Even more beautiful now,

  Than she was then.

  She still has a hold of me,

  And she will never let go.”

  “I was hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  “I’ve known her forever,

  All my life.

  Yet she really…

  Doesn’t know me at all.”

  “I was hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  “I want to break myself open for her,

  And show her my heart.

  No more lies.

  No more secrets.”

  “I was hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  “I love her more,

  Than she could ever imagine.

  The years separating us,

  Didn’t make a difference at all.

  “I am hopeless.

  Hopeless for her.

  Hopeless for her then.

  Hopeless for her now.”

  By the time the songs ends, I’m sobbing like a broken hearted child. We’re talking very ugly crying.

  My fingers are trembling when I type a reply. I can barely see the screen thro
ugh my tears.

  It’s beautiful, Abe. I love it!

  I want to add Come back!, but it’s not my place to ask that of him, to ask him to uproot his whole life for me, yet again.

  Instead, I wait eagerly for his reply. I stow the groceries away, staring at my phone all the while, my ears on high alert. My heart sinks a little when he doesn’t reply. I tell myself that he’s probably in the middle of something.

  I draw myself a bath to ease my nerves. I keep my phone on the edge of the tub. I sink into the warm water, and let myself drift into beautiful memories of the two of us; his lips on the swell of my breasts, his hands between my legs, my own sliding down his stomach, the other tangled in his soft hair.

  I check my phone obsessively, worrying that I might have not heard the ping when my head was submerged. Every time I see no response, it stings.

  Why hasn’t he replied? No goodbyes, no Later, buddy. Nothing.

  I consider sending him a message, but I don’t want to be a pest. I think about the lyrics of his song. What was the point of it all? He was obviously trying to tell me something.

  Am I expected to make the next move? I’m the one who pushed him away. Maybe he’s just waiting for me to stretch my arms out and welcome him back.

  I try to get lost in Memoirs of a Geisha, my current read, but it’s to no avail. I can’t even focus on a single paragraph, let alone a full page or chapter. I abandon the book, turn off my bedside lamp and sulk.

  I sulk until I drift off into slumber.

  As soon as I wake, I check my phone again.

  Nothing.

  Who knew a single emotion could feel so heavy. That’s disappointment for you. I once read that we should never have expectations. If we don’t expect anything, we’ll never be let down. But I think it’s human nature to expect, to anticipate, to look forward to something with excitement.

  I reluctantly get dressed and brush my teeth. I twist my hair up into a quick bun, and I don’t even bother with makeup. I grab a cold smoothie drink from my refrigerator, and pad over to the elevator, not excited in the least.

  I run into Mr. Dark & Mysterious from the penthouse upstairs, and even that doesn’t excite me. I do, however, make a mental note to tell the girls. We love jabbering about Mr. Penthouse sightings. He’s with his kids again. They come and go… cute teens. I assume he’s divorced and gets occasional custody. They all smile at me, and I force a tight grin.

  The parking garage is busy this morning, and people are already getting on my nerves. I absentmindedly drive to work, and when I get there, I trudge up to my office.

  “Bad night?” Melanie asks.

  I think about Abe’s song. “Kinda.”

  The day doesn’t turn around. I’m moody and confused all day, wondering what I should do. I decide that the ball’s in my court. I need to make the next move. But what?

  When I finally get home after a hard day’s work, I’m exhausted. My head aches and my limbs feel heavy. I turn the lock and eagerly push the door open.

  I just want to sink into another bath, and not think about anything—

  My breath hitches at the sight of about a dozen huge bouquets of beautiful tiger lilies. They’re everywhere, on the counter, on the kitchen table, on the console table. I stop and smell one of them.

  I turn the corner, and there’s more. They’re everywhere in the living room.

  And so is Abe.

  He’s sitting comfortably on my sectional, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table. He wears an impish grin.

  I’m speechless at first, but after a second or two, I recover my ability to speak. “How did you get here?” I ask, but my tone is not accusatory in the least, just surprised.

  He grins playfully. “Mischa and I are in cahoots.”

  I smile. Yes, Mischa has a key. She’s the one who takes care of my plants when I go away.

  “Remember when we were kids…” he says. “Remember how Izzie was… she’d never share. You told me once to be a big boy, and take what I wanted. You told me to be bold, and act stronger than I felt. You told me to stand up to her.”

  I smile. I don’t remember this particular conversation, but obviously he does. I’m still without words.

  He rises and closes the distance between us. He reaches out and takes my hand. “I want you, Abby, and I’m taking what I want.”

  We’re completely lost in each other’s eyes.

  “I’m acting stronger than I feel,” he goes on. “I want you, Abby. Today and forever.”

  Before I can react, he pulls me up against him and bends to kiss me.

  This kiss… is the most singular amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. My whole core warms and melts into him. He tastes so sweet, so delicious. I can’t get enough. I drop my bag, and wrap my arms around him. He grabs my rear, and pulls me up tighter against him. I know we won’t make it to the bed.

  I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone before. We both fall onto the sectional and tear at each other’s clothing, explore each other slowly, leisurely. Finally, when our mouths meet again, our bodies melt together.

  We make love, and there’s something quite different about it this time. We are both cracked open, vulnerable. There are no secrets, nothing between us.

  We love each other. We always have.

  And the two of us… it’s for keeps.

  Epilogue

  Six months later…

  Mischa is toying with the centerpiece again.

  “Everything is perfect, Mischa,” I assure her with a smile. “Stop fussing.”

  She pouts. “Well, you know me. That’s impossible.”

  She, Claudia and Gretchen have been kind enough to organize this whole party for me. Every year, I tell them it’s not necessary, but every year it happens.

  Thirty-seven. I thought I’d feel older as I neared forty, but strangely enough, I don’t. I guess Abe keeps me young.

  “You look amazing.” Abe kisses me on the cheek. “Are you ready?”

  I smile. I hate being the center of attention, and he knows it. He’s promised to stand by my side all night. It’s a big day for us, and not only because it’s my birthday. We decided to throw out my pills this afternoon. We’re gonna make a go of it, the whole kit and caboodle; moving in together, a kid, possibly even two.

  Mrs. Flores is back from her world vacation and has settled back in. Just yesterday, she asked me if I had any breadmaker yeast. When I told her I didn’t have a breadmaker, she looked at me like I was an alien, shook her head, and stormed off. She then proceeded to blast her television again.

  Abe has moved in with me, and thankfully, his piano didn’t need to travel very far.

  “Everything’s set in the kitchen,” Gretchen tells me. She’s the official cook this evening. Mischa is the decorator, and Claudia is the social director, in charge of welcoming the guests with drinks. She’s a master Margarita and Sangria maker. I’ve never seen anyone handle a blender like she does.

  The guests start trickling in, and with every sip of Sangria, every hug, and every hand I shake, my nerves ease a little. I make small talk with our neighbors, colleagues from work, and friends from my book club.

  Gretchen has cooked up amazing lasagna (meat and vegetarian), and a fantastic Caesar salad. I’m feeling happy and buzzed, and my stomach is full. Abe is entertaining the crowd with his guitar. And for the millionth time, I remind myself how lucky I am.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she calls out from across the room. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

  Adele is here, in my home. I’ve chatted with her on Facebook these past months, but now I finally get to see her in the flesh. I bounce off the sofa, and dash to the entryway. As soon as we lock eyes, we fall into each other’s arms. Her hugs haven’t changed one bit. “It’s so nice to see you, Abigail. So beautiful, so beautiful…”

  “You too,” I tell her. “Still as gorgeous as ever.”

  We reluctantly pull apart. “I’m shocked to see you,” I admit. “But, like…
good shock.”

  She laughs, that familiar deep chuckle. “Abe wanted to keep it a surprise. He’s sneaky that way.”

  The music has stopped, and Abe leans in for a hug and a kiss. “Hi, Mom. It’s so nice to see you.”

  “My angel,” she says, and I smile. She used to call him that all the time.

  I welcome her in, and we settle on the sofa and catch up. I tell her all about my job and my friends. She chats about her bowling league, her Bingo nights and her new diet. It’s just so nice to be sitting across from her, listening to her singsong voice and infectious laugh.

  Abe did tell his parents about uncle Pete, years ago at his funeral. Apparently, Adele was inconsolable and filled with rage. For years she blamed herself for not seeing the truth. She sought help, and still sees a therapist twice a month.

  “I still can’t believe Abe moved right next to you.” She grins. “I’ve always known he was obsessed with you, but I never realized just how much.”

  I laugh. “A little creepy, but also very sweet.”

  “Well, that’s Abe for you. He’s always been a sweetheart.”

  “He certainly is. I’m very lucky to have reconnected with him… and with you too.”

  She smiles, tearing up like she used to occasionally. She takes my hand. “I’ve always loved you, Abby.”

  Oh, no. She’s going to make me cry at my birthday party.

  “Izzie would always light up when you were at our house,” she goes on. “You know, she had issues. She was like her dad that way. Abe is more like me, goes with the flow. But Izzie was intense. You grounded her.”

  My eyes are welling up too now. “She was everything to me. You guys were all I had.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I know. I wished you were mine sometimes.”

  I smile through my tears. “Same.”

  “I was so upset when she told me you two had parted ways. She never wanted to tell me why.”

  My heart sinks as I’m brought back to all those years ago. “It was stupid stuff. Boy stuff,” I clarify. “Every day, I regret not trying harder. If we’d remained friends, then maybe…” my words trail off.

  “No, Abby. There’s nothing you could have done. There’s no use living in the past, sweetie.”