Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  “Well, Millie is a much better cook, that’s for sure,” El said, her mouth full of steak.

  “So, tell us all about it,” Millie prodded.

  El smiled a broad, genuine smile again. “I got him to admit to everything, Mil.”

  “Like what?” Patrick asked.

  “Like he kidnapped me, shot me, and bombed the office in Montana, killing three agents.” El popped a piece of bread in her mouth, satisfaction written all over her face.

  “Tell me more. Did you need to hide anything from the FBI while you were talking to him?” Patrick was all business. He was back to protecting her.

  “Well, there was a part at the beginning I didn’t want them to hear. I told him I needed to know why he was at the office in Montana, for closure. That I just didn’t understand.”

  Millie’s eyes widened. “So you were on tape that you knew he’d bombed the field office?”

  “No! They couldn’t hear it because I pushed my boobs together and it made the microphone all scratchy.” She smiled at herself as she showed them what she’d done.

  “How’d you know if you did—do your boobs like that again—if you did that, Agent Harris wouldn’t hear you?” Billy piped up.

  “I practiced!” El laughed and pushed her boobs together for him two more times. “I told Harris I wanted to make sure I knew what not to do so I wouldn’t get nervous and fuck the whole thing up.”

  “Maybe you are brilliant,” Millie agreed, nodding. “And your boobs are hot in that top.”

  El looked at him with pride. “Patrick, it’s now your turn to tell me how brilliant I am.”

  “You did good, El.” He hoped it was what they needed to get her out of this mess and Jamie arrested, but he knew better. Patrick let her bask in the glory of her “victory.” They’d get through today, and maybe the FBI would come through. And maybe he would get his transfer and waltz out of this situation unscathed. Fat chance.

  When the interview came on an hour or so later, they settled into the den, drinking and talking until they saw the opening. El’s life flashed on the screen, boiled down to two minutes; it was difficult to watch. He looked into the kitchen and tried to prepare himself for this interview. Millie hadn’t talked to him about what all the questions were, so he had no idea, but he knew he wouldn’t like it.

  Millie giggled. “Damn, girl, you’re famous.”

  “More like infamous,” El refuted.

  “Same difference,” Billy joked.

  “And so fucking tragic,” Patrick added as a joke, but he meant it. All of these things that happened to El were because of one person, Jamie. He deserved to get what was coming to him.

  The interview was at a hotel, El was wearing a tight striped dress and she was full of fake smiles for Diane Sawyer. This wasn’t the El he knew. He glanced over at her, watching herself on TV like this was totally normal. Fuck. He almost couldn’t take having two Els in the same room.

  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?” Diane Sawyer asked in disbelief.

  “No, I don’t. I think you’re beautiful. I think beautiful is different to everyone. Nothing about me is beautiful right now and that’s my opinion.”

  She went on to answer the rest of the questions, but he wished he could tell her how beautiful she really was. She was strong, and resilient, and funny, and the most beautiful person he knew. Patrick wished he could tell her those things, but he couldn’t. He took a pull of his beer as he swallowed his regret.

  Diane smiled kindly at El. “When you mention George, your entire face lights up.”

  “My entire body lights up when I think about George,” Stella agreed.

  Patrick almost spit his entire beer out. He wasn’t surprised she felt that way about George, but hearing it directly from her shook him to the core. I’m insane. I’m living with a gorgeous, smart woman and in love with a stunning disaster of another, who I have no chance in hell with due to the fucking friend zone and the fact that I lied to her for years.

  “It means George is it for me; he’s the only man that I ever want to be with. If he decides he doesn’t want me around, I may buy the house next door to him,” she chuckled, “simply to be in his presence every day.”

  “Wow, Stella. You are in love.”

  El nodded. “Utterly and completely.”

  He could hardly breathe now. He needed a way out of here; he got up to get another beer. This was impossible. He was torn in two. When he walked back into the room with another beer, he tuned out the rest of the interview and played on his phone, texting with his sister.

  A commercial came on and Billy stretched his arms over his head. “I think knowing you is a liability, El.” He smirked. “You’re not allowed here now that I’ve bought the place.”

  Patrick smiled; he’d wondered when Billy was going to tell everyone.

  “What?!” El yelled. “You bought this house?!”

  Millie and El stood up to embrace Billy, clapping him on the back in excitement.

  “I didn’t even know you were thinking about it,” El gushed, more genuinely happy than he’d seen her in too long.

  “That’s what happens when you’re all wrapped up in your own shit, like trying to get your homicidal former fiancé arrested.” Billy laughed. “You miss shit.”

  “A toast!” Millie declared, raising her glass.

  “To the best friends an asshole could ever wish for,” El said.

  “To next year being totally fucking different than this one,” Patrick toasted. He would be in a different place, away from both of these women who were inadvertently ripping his insides into shreds.

  “To the people who I love more than beer,” Billy joked.

  “To the family we choose.” Millie clinked her glass.

  Chapter Sixteen

  SAFE AND SOUND

  Several days later, Patrick put the cover back on the grill to cover the steaks and veggies he was grilling for dinner. He heard Millie scream and ran inside to see her jumping up and down with El. Cooper was jumping in the middle of them as well. Puzzled, Patrick stopped and took them in, they were so different, but similar too. They were funny and smart, but in different ways. Millie was all light and giggles, compared to El, who was sarcastic and brooding. He was drawn to them both for very different reasons, he couldn’t help it. Mid-jump, Millie looked over to where he was standing and motioned him over, all while bouncing through the kitchen.

  “Look! Look!” Millie held out El’s left hand.

  Patrick looked at it, puzzled, and then he saw the enormous emerald on her ring finger. Damn, George had stepped up his game. That was a huge rock.

  “George and El are engaged!!!” Millie squealed in delight.

  Patrick’s eyes traveled up to his best friend’s face, finding it split in half with a grin. She shrugged at him. It was the happiest he’d ever seen her and it fucking crushed him. El was going to marry someone else. This is not how things were supposed to go.

  “I thought engagement rings were diamonds,” Patrick said.

  Millie stopped jumping. “Patrick. First you say congratulations then you ask dumbass questions.”

  “Congratulations,” Patrick deadpanned.

  The front door opened and Billy walked in with two cases of Yuengling. “What’s up?” he asked when he got into the kitchen.

  “I’m engaged!” El said, showing him her finger.

  “What?” Billy’s smile was genuine and he pulled her in for a bear hug, but his eyes landed on Patrick’s face. “That’s a fucking big ass ring; I hope you’ve been lifting weights to carry it around.”

  El’s real laughter erupted through the room, which caused Millie and Patrick to start laughing too. Patrick didn’t want to laugh, he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t help it. El’s laugh could move mountains.

  “I know it’s kind of obnoxious. I hope I don’t lose it. You guys know how I am.” El moved through the kitchen with her bag and headed down the stairs. Cooper followed her. “I’m going to throw this
downstairs. I can stay, right?” she asked, but it wasn’t really a question. El had been staying with them off and on through the fall when she felt nervous or wanted company while George was out of town.

  “So, that’s exciting,” Billy said as soon as El was out of the room, staring at Patrick.

  “I know, right?!” Millie was still squealing.

  “Why are you still yelling?” Patrick asked.

  Millie’s face transformed from bright to dark. “Because it’s fucking exciting to have a best friend engaged, asshole.”

  Billy cleared his throat. “Beer?” He held one out to Patrick.

  Patrick snatched it. “Thanks.”

  “What’s your problem?” Millie asked.

  “No problem, I just figured if anyone would be that excited, it would be El, and she’s not squealing like a twelve-year-old girl.”

  Intervening before the fight spiraled into a screaming match, Billy handed Millie a beer, too. He put his arm around Millie and moved her to the den, away from Patrick. “You know men like Patrick don’t really get the big deal with engagements or marriage. I’m sure he’s excited in his own way.”

  “The really annoying way?” Millie asked as she sat on the couch, pouting.

  “Exactly. The really annoying way,” Billy agreed, looking at Patrick in warning.

  Patrick rearranged his face and joined them in the den. “Look, I’m excited for them, it’s just, I’m not the one engaged, and even if I was, I don’t think I’d squeal.” He smiled. “Can you do it again so I can see how it’s done?”

  “No, asshole, I’ll never squeal again.” Millie refused to look at him.

  “Hmmm, I think that is a challenge I’ll accept.” Patrick raised an eyebrow at Millie.

  Billy turned on Madden and began playing.

  “What do you mean you accept?” Millie asked.

  “The challenge to make you squeal commences in,” he looked at his watch, “three hours.”

  Her eyes showed her understanding, and she looked from Patrick to Billy and back, like he was crazy. “Patrick…”

  “Really, Mil? You know he hears you already, right? This will just be a different noise. Fair warning, Billy, there will be squealing tonight.” With that, Patrick walked outside to check the meat he was grilling.

  Fuck. She’s getting married and I have to be happy.

  It was getting harder to lie to everyone, especially himself. Now the stakes were getting higher; she was going to marry George. Patrick didn’t know if he could pretend to be happy about it. He didn’t think he could go to their wedding and act like this is what he wanted. He was miserable. All of this needed to end. Patrick wanted out and the transfer was the best way. He willed it to happen. If he didn’t get transferred, he’d tell her, and that wasn’t fair to anyone.

  Patrick lifted the weights and grunted loudly. Fuck, that’s heavy. I’m losing it. Emanuel was spotting him during bench presses and helped him get the weight back on the rack. Emanuel was George’s best friend. He was a former marine and Patrick liked him much better than George. When they’d learned that they worked out at the same gym, they became lifting partners. Emanuel was a good spot; he didn’t talk too much and knew as much as Patrick did about baseball.

  “What’s up?” Emanuel asked, referring to the fact Patrick was struggling to lift weight that wasn’t even his maximum.

  “No idea. I could do that weight last week. I guess I’ve just got my mind on other things.” Patrick shook his head, trying to get his mind right. He’d put in for a transfer the Monday after he’d found out that El was engaged. He had a difficult enough time being around her happiness with George—he couldn’t even think about seeing them married. It wasn’t possible. He hadn’t told anyone, though. Not until the ball was really rolling. “I think I may just run today,” he said to Emanuel, “that may help.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.” Emanuel was easy like that, his feathers never got ruffled. Patrick assumed that if you went to war, you didn’t care about dumb shit that normal people cared about.

  Patrick got on the treadmill and began running. After a mile, El got on the treadmill next to him. “Why are you running?”

  They’d run together this morning. Patrick sighed. He knew she had yoga on these nights, but figured she would stay in the class and not come onto the floor of the gym. She was wearing black spandex pants and a sports bra. Her nipples were hard. Patrick almost tripped on the treadmill and looked straight ahead with all his might.

  “Needed to clear my head.”

  “Why?” she asked, her head cocked to the side. “What’s going on?”

  “Many things are going on,” he replied, his voice loaded.

  She understood. “You don’t have to be involved, Patrick. I’ve got this.”

  “Oh, really?” He kept up his pace. “You’ve got this?”

  “Yes. I don’t want you to be involved. I know this is...”

  “El, first of all, you asked for my help. I’m happy to help you and I wouldn’t let you do this alone, you know that. I just need to get my brain around what the best way to handle the situation is.”

  “I told you—”

  He interrupted her. “I know what you’re doing. I’m telling you it may not be the best way. I’m coming up with alternatives.”

  She slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He continued to look straight ahead.

  “Are you mad?” she asked sincerely. She tilted her head and tucked an errant strand of her black hair behind her ear.

  “No, El. I’m not mad.” He wasn’t close to being mad at her; he was devastated that she was in this position. He was livid that Jamie was forcing them to make decisions that would force him to contemplate killing someone. He was pissed she was getting married. The El he knew didn’t want to get married. He didn’t understand anything anymore.

  “Okay,” she looked at her phone, “I’ve gotta get to yoga.”

  “Okay.”

  “Run in the morning?”

  “Sure.”

  She looked at him for a long moment before turning and walking away. Patrick looked away from her ass and breasts that were on display. When he glanced back at her, he saw the tattoo that he hated; it taunted him.

  Patrick was losing control of his always-in-control emotions. His heart sped up when he saw her. When they ran in the morning, he couldn’t keep his mind from wondering what it would be like to push her into the grass, peel off her running gear, and plunge into her. It wasn’t fair to Millie, it wasn’t fair to him. He knew El was with George. And she thought she loved George, which made it more evident he needed to leave. It would be the opportunity to break things off with Millie. She deserved someone who loved her like she needed to be loved. Patrick didn’t understand why it couldn’t be him, but he was just wasting her time now. He struggled with the knowledge that while he wanted to love Millie, he was desperately in love with El. He kept hoping that one day he would wake up and things would click into place—that he’d love Millie the way he loved El now and El would be a distant memory. Every day he woke up with the ache in his chest because he knew it wouldn’t happen.

  Patrick was hoping he got the transfer and fast. He could lie…as a matter of fact, he was a good liar, but not to her. Not anymore.

  Patrick was sitting on the couch, watching the Steelers game and drinking a beer. He was mindlessly flipping the beer top in between his fingers as he was watching the Steelers make their way down the field toward a touchdown. It wouldn’t be much longer now…he was going to have to put Plan C in play and he didn’t want to do it. His mind raced with the possibilities: (1) Jamie could not take the bait; (2) he could fail and El would get hurt; (3) he could walk away from this entire situation, move to Atlanta, let it play out and El would get hurt; or (4) he could do it and this all would be over, he’d move to Atlanta, he and Millie would end things amicably and remain friends.

  Millie was a beacon of light these past few years. She
lit up everywhere she went with this exuberant, glowing happiness or goodness or something he couldn’t quite put his finger on because he wasn’t happy or good or full of light.

  His phone rang with an undisclosed number.

  “Billy?” he answered.

  “So, I put a birdie in Harris’ ear.”

  “I thought you were out of the country.” Sometimes Patrick wondered what it was like to be Billy, always on the move and having nothing to tie him down.

  “I had to pop back to Langley and guess who I just happened to run into?”

  “So…”

  “Well, I just happened to bring up the Falcons-Redskins game, which led to me telling him that you’re going to party with Jesse McIntyre. Of course, I’m busy with this fucking mission so I couldn’t go…and that led into me being so concerned about Stella and Millie being on their own with Jamie out and about.”

  “And?” Patrick burst out. “It’s like pulling fucking teeth, dude.”

  “Well, he was very jealous of the fact that you’re friends with Jesse McIntyre.”

  “Billy…seriously, my heart cannot take what you’re doing right now.”

  “Interestingly enough, he lives near Old Town now.”

  “If I knew where you were I would come there and kick your ass.”

  “Fuck, calm down, Mary…he sympathized and I could tell he filed the information away. I don’t know what he’ll do with it, but I put it out there.”

  “Okay, well I guess you’re right. We’ll see.”

  “That guy’s a total douche.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I love that FBI agents think they’re the smartest people in the room at all times. It makes me want to sit down with a bag of popcorn and watch him lose his shit when he learns he can’t touch Jamie.”

  “Well, we’ve all thought we knew more than we did at the time.”

  “Not me. I’m brilliant and I really am the smartest in the room at any given time. That includes our house too, if you were questioning that.”

  Chapter Seventeen