by J. L. Berg
Just as my eyes fell shut, the doorbell rang.
Slowly rising, I twisted and stretched, relieving the tension in my back and neck as I walked to the front door. Expecting a long overdue visit from Brick, I didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who was waiting for me on the other side.
When I opened the door, I was nearly knocked over by shock.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked Ryan after rubbing my eyes to make sure I was actually seeing him standing at my front door.
“Wondering what the hell is wrong with you,” he muttered, pushing past me.
“Please, come in,” I joked, watching him wander down the hallway toward the living room. I followed, still wondering what the hell he was doing here. He wandered around the room, looking at several framed pictures on the walls before settling into the chair on the opposite side of the room.
“Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” I asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible, but failing miserably. The venom in my voice was unmistakable as I glanced down at his left hand.
No ring.
“It’s not me she wants,” he answered, settling into the plush chair as if preparing for a long journey. With a huff, I decided to join him, favoring the couch.
“She left me,” I reminded him. “And chose you.”
“Only because she thought it was the right thing to do at the time. As did I.”
He was dangling hooks, casting them out into the vast sea of my curiosity faster than I could comprehend. I had so many questions; I didn’t know which to ask first.
Or if I should even ask them in the first place.
Nothing had changed. I still worked for a madman who burnt down buildings, killing innocent people when he got angry, and who was working on a one-way ticket to the slammer.
No good could come from being associated with me, and yet I still wanted to know why. Why hadn’t she married him? Why wasn’t she here?
“In the end, we weren’t right for each other. We never were. I mistook friendship for love, believing that if you got along with someone well enough, that equated to the same thing as passion. It doesn’t. I should have known that the minute she left and went straight into your arms, seeking something more. Something I couldn’t give her.”
I opened my mouth to say something…anything. But all that came out was air.
“She still wants you, August.”
“Did she tell you that?” I asked, lunging for that single hook he dangled in front of me.
“No,” he answered. “She doesn’t have to. It’s written all over her face, etched in every movement of her body and fragile line of her soul. She’s yours whether either of you know it or not.”
“So what’s the point in coming here, Ryan? Is this your good deed of the day? Is this your way of making yourself the better man? Again?”
Ryan had always had a way of making himself the hero of the story. I was usually the villain—a role I’d earned on multiple occasions.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Everly. I may not love her the way I thought I did, but I still love her. And I always will. She’s special, August, and you of all people should recognize that.”
“I do,” I nearly spat.
“Then why are you sitting around here doing nothing?” he roared, rising from his seat. It was the most anger I’d ever seen from the man. It was like hearing a menacing growl unfurl from a harmless-looking kitten, and suddenly realizing that the tiny creature with the sharp fangs and pointy claws was actually capable of vast danger.
“It’s complicated,” I replied.
“Than un-complicate it.”
“It’s not that easy! Look, she walked away from me. She. Left. Me.” I stood up, frustrated by this entire conversation. Didn’t he understand that given the chance—a change in circumstances, I would run to Everly in a heartbeat?
“Yes, but why? What did you do to drive her away? She didn’t leave because she stopped loving you, I know that much.”
“What makes you so sure? I am known to be kind of an asshole,” I replied with a touch of dark humor.
“She calls your name out in her sleep.”
That one sentence gutted me to the core. I had no witty comeback. Nothing. I just sat there dumbfounded until he continued. I felt myself crumble back to the cushions of the couch.
“She has ever since I’ve known her. At first I thought it was just a PTSD thing—getting over the trauma of you.”
I winced at the mere thought.
“But every so often she’d murmur things like, ‘I’m sorry, August…so sorry.’ I thought about asking her about it, but I figured she’d been through enough, so I let it go. You were not something either of us wanted to talk about—a big black void in our relationship until you actually woke up, and then it was like this giant elephant neither of us could get around. After you awoke, the dreams increased and suddenly she was calling out to you almost nightly. I tried to tell myself it was just the shock of having you back in her life, but deep down, I knew better. As time went on, it only got worse. Eventually I had to come to terms with the truth—that she was still love with you. She always had been. I was just a place holder until you came back.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I answered honestly.
“I’m not looking for an apology,” he said. “In a way, I guess we both used each other without realizing it. I wanted a relationship. I was nearly starving for someone in my life and when I saw her in that coffee shop, I knew she was the one I wanted. I didn’t take no for an answer, kept at her until she caved to my demands. I should have known then that we weren’t right for each other. You shouldn’t have to drag the woman of your dreams into your happily ever after. She should come willingly.”
“And that’s why you’re here now? You think I’m that guy for Everly?”
He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Haven’t you always been? I mean, I don’t know much about you two in the past, and I know things haven’t always been easy, but I do know one thing. No matter what happens, you two always find a way back to each other. Eventually, Everly is going to need to find her way back to you. You need to be there when she does.”
“What’s in it for you?” I asked wearily.
“Knowing she’s happy? That’s all I need, believe me.”
I eyed him with disbelief as we made our way toward the front door. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t find any ulterior motive when it came to Ryan. He was a dying breed—the last of his kind. The gentle giant, a class-act gentleman who carried his heart on his sleeve and cared with every fiber of his being. I knew, had he actually married Everly, that he would have given everything to her, simply because of the promise he’d made and the principle behind it. He would have loved her as much as he could have and never wandered. It was just the type of man he was. I remember Everly telling me he’d been raised by older parents and part of me wondered if his blast-from-the-past mannerisms and notions were a nod to them.
Whatever the reason, I respected the hell out of him. Even if I couldn’t do any of the things he asked of me.
Despite how much I wished I could.
“So, if you’re here, does that mean Everly went on your honeymoon alone?” I joked as we reached the door.
“No,” he answered with a smile, “She went with Sarah.”
“Ouch,” I replied with a shake of my head.
“It’s fine. I was happy to give it to her. Especially after I got this,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to reveal a photo he had saved. Holding his phone out in front of him, he showed me a photo of Everly sitting in a tattoo parlor, her bright eyes gleaming as she smiled for the camera. All of her beautiful red hair was pulled to the side to reveal her bare shoulder, where a single new blackbird had been etched into her skin. Just outside of its cage, the bird’s great wingspan in mid-flight was gorgeous as she flew away from her prison.
“She’s free,” I found myself saying.
&nb
sp; “Yeah, I guess she is.”
She was making memories and discovering her own path around the world. It was all I’d ever wanted for her.
“That’s my girl,” I murmured as my face lit up in a smile. “That’s my girl.”
* * *
It was late.
My weekend events had left too many things to do and not enough hours to complete them. Leaning back in the uncomfortable leather chair that had probably cost more than most people’s mortgages, I looked across the darkened office, noticing the dust that had accumulated on the equipment I’d once prized above all other possessions.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d taken a photograph.
After Everly left, I’d lost the will to even touch a camera. What was the point? Photos were to capture cherished memories.
I no longer had any.
My favorite room in the house had become my prison. The one place I’d gone to for sanctuary was now nothing more than another place to push around papers and crunch numbers.
It was my personal form of hell.
Whatever part of my brain that had enjoyed doing this in my former life was obviously gone, lost in the shuffle—that battle of new and old, the modern and outdated me.
Some things remained the same, like the way I wore my hair and the type of toothpaste I preferred, while others parts of my personality felt as if they had become vastly different.
Before my memories had begun to resurface, it had been as if I were starting anew. A completely new model. A new prototype of August. The ancient model of myself preferred chocolate ice cream and loved cream in his coffee. The new me preferred vanilla and my coffee straight from the pot.
Now that the flashbacks had begun, it was like a melding of two lives. I was no longer a new version of myself, just a different version.
August 2.0.
I found myself liking things I hadn’t six months ago, simply because I remembered them from the past. Various memories that had surfaced told me I had once had an overwhelming desire for power and wealth—much like Trent. This had been the crack in the perfect life Everly and I had once shared. As my payouts had become bigger and bigger, my need and drive for money had taken off. It became an addiction. At first, I’d done it all for her—wanting to give her everything under the sun, but then I’d lost sight of reality—of everything, really. Life became about money, just like Everly had said.
Those had been hard memories to relive—to see myself so altered, so driven by materialism. It was one addiction I hoped stayed forever in the past.
I didn’t know how long this thing Trent had going could last. How long could he go on fooling everyone before the floor fell out beneath him and the precious empire he’d built was exposed for what it really was?
One dirty corruption after another. And unless I came up with some sort of brilliant plan—fast—all of us in that office were going down with him.
Coming up with the cash to buy my way out by swindling Magnolia and her family was growing on my conscience more and more with each passing day.
I’d become attached. Not just to Magnolia, but to her family as well.
If I stuck to my guns, went all in and worked Mr. Yorke like a pro, squeezing every dime I owed out of him, I could hand it straight over to Trent as I watched his smug face fall to the floor.
With my debt paid, I wouldn’t have any reason to keep my current position. I could sell my partnership back over to Trent, assuming he’d allow it. If not, I’d just walk away.
I’d be free.
And Everly? I don’t know, but I felt like there was something there that hadn’t been there before.
Possibility.
But this all hinged on my ability to screw over one person I cared for to gain another.
Was I willing to do that? Could I? And if Everly ever discovered the depths I’d gone through to get her back—destroying other people’s lives and breaking hearts—would she look at me in the same way?
My only other option was to do nothing. I couldn’t hurt Magnolia and I wouldn’t betray what little trust Everly still had in me.
I would find a way to get out of Trent’s grasp, but one thing was for sure.
It wouldn’t involve hurting others.
Chapter Thirteen
Everly
Sarah’s magic cure for jet lag was crap.
I woke up the next morning—if you wanted to call it that—feeling like I’d been hit by a Mack truck.
Everything hurt. I felt at least ninety years old, maybe older.
“I’m dying,” I groaned into my pillow, stretching my tired limbs one at a time.
“Rise and shine!” Sarah nearly sang, pouncing on to the bed we’d shared the night before. It was actually two beds, but when I’d called to adjust the hotel reservation from one bed to two, it was explained to me in broken English that we’d have euro beds. I’d just thanked them and laughed, saying no problem.
What the hell was a euro bed?
At the time I didn’t care. My wedding had been canceled, my ex-fiancé had just handed me an all-expense trip to Paris, and I was just trying to make sure Sarah and I had beds to sleep in.
We’d soon learned upon our arrival in Paris exactly what euro beds were. It was like a twin, only two were shoved together to make a queen, or maybe a full? I don’t know—it was small. It was basically one bed that had a large divot down the middle.
It was a good thing I loved Sarah so much, because that little bed divider meant nothing to her. She was a bed hog and took more than her fair share of the euro beds, regardless of the rather large divider.
“Why are you so damn perky at this ungodly hour?” I whined into the soft fluffiness of my pillow, hoping that if I buried myself in deeply enough, she’d go away.
“It’s not an ungodly hour—it’s nearly ten in the morning!”
My eyes opened in surprise, but all I saw was the black fabric of my pillow shoved against my face. Rising up onto my elbows, I squinted and looked about with disdain.
“Ten in the morning? How is that possible? It feels like…”
“The middle of the night?” she guessed.
“Well, yes, actually.”
“Jet lag, babe. Here, have some coffee. It will make everything better.”
“Well, shit—why didn’t you just start with that? Everything would have gone a lot smoother,” I told her, grabbing the cup of espresso from her hand. I nearly stuck my entire head into the small cup, inhaling the nutty aroma. It was intense and dark, and my mouth was nearly watering as I wrapped my lips around it.
Within minutes, I was already beginning to feel the buzz and things were looking much brighter.
Caffeine was magical.
“So what are we going to do today?” I asked, pointing to the giant packet of information from Ryan.
When Ryan had handed it over, a twinge of embarrassment seemed to pass over his face. At first I’d tried to ignore it, knowing things between us were still unsettled, but finally I couldn’t let it go and I’d asked him what was making him so nervous.
“There are things in there I’d planned especially for you—for our honeymoon. If you decide to not do them because you’re with Sarah, or because you think they’re corny or lame…just know I won’t be offended.”
I’d assured him I was fully confident in his abilities to plan a trip. A wedding, however? Well, I wouldn’t trust either one of us with that task.
But as I sat there salivating over my cup of French coffee, I pulled out the packet and nearly lost it before breakfast had even been served.
“What is it?” Sarah asked, rushing over to my side.
I just held up a piece of paper, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Oh, Everly…”
I couldn’t even form words. I just nodded, wiping snot and tears from my face. It was gross, but I was a mess of emotions and I’d been deprived of a normal night’s sleep.
“He really is the best guy,” she said softly.
“I know.” I looked down at the sheet of paper she’d handed back to me, confirming a reservation for two at an exclusive cooking school. He’d scheduled an entire day of cooking lessons for me, with a world-renowned chef.
A day of bliss—just for me.
“Shit! We’d better hurry. We need to be there in an hour!” Sarah announced as we both looked down at the reservation and simultaneously panicked.
“I’ll take first shower, you take second!” she yelled, darting toward the bathroom faster than I could stop her. I mumbled under my breath but knew not to complain too much. When it came to both of us getting ready in the morning, I knew I was the quickest and most efficient. Even though I hated the feeling of wet hair, I was more or less okay with throwing my crimson locks up in a tight bun or top knot if there wasn’t enough time for a blow dry.
Sarah? She’d rather go out naked than let someone see her without perfectly polished hair. With little or no control as to how she had to wear it for work and performances, I believe she liked the ability to wear it any way she pleased when she was on her own time. Loose braids, wild curls or stick straight—she was always doing something different.
I just hoped whatever she chose today was quick.
After ten minutes, I stuck my head in the bathroom and gave her a five-minute warning as I began brushing my teeth. I heard the water turn off as soon as I finished gargling mouthwash.
We danced around each other as we got ready, and in no time I was showered, dressed, and wearing enough makeup to look presentable to the outside world. Knowing I would soon be covered in flour and sugar, I didn’t put too much effort into my appearance.
Sarah, on the other hand, took every precious moment she had, primping, curling and smoothing every surface until the very last second.
“Oh my God! We are just cooking! Can we go now?” I begged, pulling her toward the door of our hotel room.
“Okay, okay…can I just put a little perfume on?” she asked, wincing as she wiggled from my grasp and ran back to the bathroom.
“What for? Isn’t Miles like a million…miles from here?” I giggled at the play on his name.