Epiphany

by Ashley Suzanne

  of a way to say it, but nothing comes out or sounds right in my head. This is a really

  awkward conversation to have with your ex fiancé about your new fiancé. “You know.” The ever poetic Mira strikes again with her magnificent wordsmith skills.

  “Mi. Am I happy that you’re happy? Yes, of course I am. That’s all I’ve ever wanted

  for you. Is it weird that you’re engaged to my best friend? I think you’re smart

  enough to draw your own conclusion without me having to answer that one.” His tone

  is distant and doesn’t change through his entire statement, coming across very … unattached, almost like his response is rehearsed.

  “But, we’re good, right? I don’t want to hurt you, Danny. You’re very important to me.”

  “You’ve already hurt me once, it’s kinda hard to do it again.” I can tell there’s a hint of sarcasm behind his

  words, but it doesn’t make them hurt any less. I gasp at his brutal honesty, feeling

  the dagger of guilt twist a little more in my heart.

  “Shit. That’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, you hurt me, but this was to be expected—you and Sky moving your relationship to the next level. Like double jeopardy, I can’t try you for the same crime twice. Fuck. I’m really bad at this.” I can picture him pacing the room, running his fingers through his hair. I’m not the only predictable one in the situation.

  “No. It’s fine. I get it. I just didn’t expect you to be so … honest.”

  “How about we shelve this conversation for later? We can grab lunch or dinner? Check with Sky about a good day and time. After the first, my schedule’s wide open.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. Probably better to have this conversation face to face.”

  He is right. I was dumb for trying to hash this out over the phone. We all have too much

  history between us to try to resolve something so important like this. Leave it to

  my impatience and need for instant gratification to almost ruin this already fragile

  friendship we have.

  “Good. While I have you on the phone, ask Skylar if he got my text about the Pistons game. I need to know soon. The boss is gonna give away the box seats if I don’t get back to him.”

  “Sure. When he gets home, I’ll check and have him call or text you.”

  “Oh. I thought he would be home. I just talked to him a little while ago and he said something about closing down the garage for a week or two. Something about not having that many jobs and not making sense to keep it open for business.”

  That’s news to me. That was surely a conversation that Skylar and I never had. I knew business was slow, but not to the point of closing the doors for an

  extended period of time. And if the shop’s closed, what is he working on? Are we

  already to the point of lies and omissions? God, I hope not.

  “Oh, he had some stuff to do at the club. He should be home soon,” I lie, not wanting to admit that Danny knows more about Skylar’s activities than I do. With my mind racing through all the possibilities, I’m having a hard time keeping up with this call. Hanging up sooner rather than later seems like the best idea.

  “You okay, Pea?” The concern dripping off his words is comforting and nerve rattling

  at the same time. Of all people, he shouldn’t be worried for me. He should be reveling

  in the fact that I might not be okay. Like a non-verbal I told you so. But, no, not Danny. He’s far too sweet and kind to make me feel even worse than I already do.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just work stuff and I can’t find Kylee.” Look at me, Liar McLiarPants.

  “She’s dating your boss right? Maybe they’re together or they had a fight. You know Kylee. When she wants to be found, she’ll make herself visible. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just took a vacation from life for a minute.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice,” I sigh, quickly recovering before he senses any distress in my voice. “I’ll let you get back to your day. I have some more work to catch up on before I call it a night. I’ll call you about lunch tomorrow.”

  “Alright. And Mira,” he says softly, catching my attention as I start to pull the phone away

  from my ear to hang up, “I’m always here if you need anything, even if you just need

  to talk.”

  “I know. Thanks. Same thing applies to you, too. Don’t forget it,” I say honestly, meaning every word. He really is a very important part of my life. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without his influence.

  “Got it. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye,” we say in unison.

  Disconnecting the call, I flop onto the couch and let my mind wander to those biker

  books again. Where the hero—if you can even call him that—constantly cheats on his girlfriend or wife when she’s not around. And here I am, all alone while my fiancé is doing God knows what with God knows who.

  What did I get myself into?

  The work I brought home isn’t enough to keep me busy for the entire night. Around

  midnight, I opt for a quick shower, hoping that Skylar is going to be sitting on the

  couch or in bed by the time I get out.

  Stepping into the hot water, my body starts to relax; if only I could get my mind to do the same. All of the possibilities racing through my head are enough to give even Dr. Oz a stroke. I try blocking everything out, only focusing on the water pelting down on my naked body and the loufa on my skin.

  Walking out of the steam filled bathroom, I quickly dry my body, wondering if he came

  home. Opening the bathroom door, looking in the bedroom and living room, he’s nowhere

  in sight. So much for wishful thinking.

  I debate calling and asking when he’ll be home, but the thought of being that girl makes my skin crawl. I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells

  me something isn’t right, but I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from.

  I don’t actually think that Skylar would cheat on me, but it’s a plausible reason for him not being home this late at night. I try to push the negativity from my head, but it’s easier said than done.

  I slip into bed alone, fighting the demons that are screaming at me, telling me that I’ve made the wrong decision—that Danny as the safe bet wouldn’t hurt me. Resting my head on the pillow, I pray for sleep to take me, but it’s another hour before I start to doze off, only to wake up to the keys being tossed onto the granite countertops in the kitchen.

  A few moments later, the water in the shower is running and the sound of Skylar’s

  clothes hitting the floor in the bathroom echoes through the quiet apartment. Exactly what has he been doing that a shower is required before getting into bed? When the water stops and the bed dips with his weight, I lie perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.

  My vision quickly adjusts to the dark setting and I’m able to see Skylar, on his back, staring at the ceiling. As if his brain’s emitting signals that he’s got a lot on his mind, I can hear the hamster wheel squeaking in his head.

  Whatever he’s been doing, or who he’s been doing—I don’t think I have enough strength to start asking those questions.

  I’d rather enjoy this engagement while it lasts, before the other shoe drops and I’m

  left broken and alone with no safety net of any kind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Skylar

  At this point, I’m not sure what to do. Mira’s a terrible liar, wanting me to believe she’s sleeping, but I can feel her eyes burning holes straight through me as I try to fall asleep.

  “Mira?” A small whimper comes from her side of the bed.

  “Mira, come on. I know you’re awake.” She’s still ignoring me and I clench my jaw so I don’t say something stupid. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” That’s it. Just no.

  She shifts awkwardly, elbowing me in the stomach, possibly intentionally, and
rolls over … away from me. Trying to close the distance, I grab her waist and pull her away from the edge. Mira’s soft hand cradles mine, and my body relaxes, less rigid now with the soothing feeling of her touch. The short reprieve is quickly gone when she lifts my arm, resting it behind her, and scoots back to her original position.

  “No. Not tonight. It’s late as hell and you’re just crawling in bed. Not too sure

  what you thought would change with this ring on my hand, but it one hundred percent

  doesn’t mean that you get to wander in at three in the morning wanting to talk about it.”

  Rocking softly, Mira pushes her arm under the pillow and rolls onto her stomach as I shift to my back, reacquainting myself with the ceiling. Mira and I don’t fight often, but when we do, I always feel rejected and fear that she’ll realize I’m too much work for her and go back to Danny. I’ve always been a pretty confident guy, but when someone like me finally gets someone like her, the thought of her running away, leaving me powerless … it’s terrifying.

  I’m a pretty intelligent guy. I’m no rocket scientist, but common sense is a field where I’m well versed. Christ, I waited in the wings for years because I couldn’t hurt my friend—destroy a relationship I’ve had almost all my life because of my feelings for a girl. I weighed every possibility before jumping head first into my engagement with Mira.

  This whole part of a club as well as being in a relationship—I knew it wouldn’t be

  easy, let alone trying to keep those two things separate. It’s going to be damn hard,

  but I didn’t prepare myself for this. What can I do, though? There are things I don’t want touching Mira and I really doubt that she’d get it, even if I tried to explain.

  “Goodnight,” I whisper, wanting to respect her wishes, but extend some type of olive branch, too.

  “Night,” she responds. At least I’m not getting the cold shoulder. I should count

  my blessings where I have them?

  “Love you.” I push my luck. It’s corny and lame but we’ve yet to go to bed since living together and not say something peaceful before bed. Ever since Mira painted a very vivid picture of a nightmare she had where I died in my sleep, I’d promised her we’d never go to bed angry with one another. She told me that night when she woke up in a cold sweat, breathing erratic, that she’d always want to know the last thing I heard was her telling me she loved me. Since that night, I’ve stuck to my vow and I’ve yet to break it.

  “Love you.” Hearing those two words come from her mouth, my heart’s not as heavy now, and I’m able to roll over—away from her—and try to sleep. Here’s to hoping that she knows I mean it when I say I love her and tomorrow will be a new day. It’s no easy feat, but I manage to drift off eventually. My only objection is not having her in my arms.

  *****

  “Shit,” I mutter, fumbling around on the nightstand for my phone that won’t stop vibrating.

  Everyone knows that I’m not a chit chat kind of guy. Text me. That’s why the feature is available. For a call at, “Five thirty. What the fuck?” I whisper. This better be good.

  “Yeah. Something better be on fire,” I answer, yelling at the person on the other end.

  Well, it would be yelling if I wasn’t muffling my voice, praying I don’t wake Mira.

  I don’t feel her eyes on me so I think it’s safe to say she’s still sleeping.

  “Cut the shit, Axe. We good?” Prowler asks.

  Awesome! Fight with Mira. Yell at my president. I’m batting a thousand.

  “Yeah, Prez, we’re good.”

  “Any other news?”

  “No. She was pretty messed up and not in the mood for talking. I’m sure after she gets a good night’s rest and a little peace, she’ll be open to talking. Until we understand more, I’d like to keep this from Mira. I don’t want any of this affecting our relationship.”

  “Understood, don’t agree, but this is your girl and your relationship,” he lectures

  like the second dad he’s been over the last few years. “Thanks again, brother. I’ll

  remember this. Anything at all. You name it.” It’s amazing how he can be a father figure in one second and then

  switch to the president of a club in the next.

  One of the reasons I decided to join the club was for the sense of family my uncle

  always talked about. Finally, I’m seeing the actions that made him believe in what

  he preached for so long. These guys are my family and Prowler means it. Anything

  I need, he’s got my back.

  “Got it. I’ll check in tomorrow. Don’t wanna wake Mi.” I sneak a glance behind me and can’t

  help but crack a smile at the innocent look on her face while she’s sleeping—almost

  as if she wasn’t ready to castrate me earlier. My sweet yet homicidal angel.

  “Give that girl a kiss for me. You got yourself a good one. Hold on to her.” I withhold the growl that threatens to escape my throat. Kiss my girl, yeah, I will. Kiss her for you—not for all the money in the world.

  The way her dark hair’s fanned across the pillow and the early morning sunlight’s

  coming through the window, dancing over her olive skin, leaves me breathless. I knew

  from the second I saw her, she was the one. The only one. The woman I want to make my wife and carry my children. I will agree with Prowler

  on one thing, though. I did get a good one. Let’s just hope I don’t fuck everything

  up.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep her as long as she’ll have me. Maybe even after that,” I joke, but not really. Even if she doesn’t want me, it’s gonna take a lot for me to let her go—especially after everything we’ve been through to get to this point. She’s stuck with me for the long haul.

  After hanging up with Prowler, I resign my thoughts of sleep—it’s just not in the

  cards for me tonight … this morning … whatever the fuck time of day it is. Resting

  with my back against the headboard, just watching her sleep is when I can get most

  of my thinking done—where I see my life going, how I want it to unfold and exactly

  who I want standing beside me, being my ride or die through it all. Not a care in the world, completely at peace, she makes the softest little

  noises, reminding me that she’s still asleep. Her eyelashes flutter and I know she’s

  dreaming.

  The best dream she ever had, in my opinion, was when she discovered her underlying

  feelings for me. The one that changed the course of both our lives forever. It’s pretty morbid to say that the accident was the best day of my life, but if

  it didn’t unfold exactly the way it did, I wouldn’t be here beside the only girl I

  ever pictured being with forever.

  Every night since she woke up, I hope it’s me she’s dreaming of. I don’t need to

  go back to sleep to have any kind of dreams, she’s sleeping right next to me. Exactly where she belongs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mira

  Tossing and turning, the smell of coffee wafts through the apartment, luring me from my slumber. When I crack my eyes open, the sun pours through the window, already high in the sky. Of course he’s going to pull out all the stops to keep the fighting at a minimum. The man knows me too well. Playing me like a fiddle, he uses every trick in the book to start my day off right and avoid the drama from last night.

  Step one—let me sleep in. Step two—caffeine.

  “Afternoon,” he says as I walk out of the bedroom.

  “Hey.” Pulling the hair tie from my wrist, I quickly knot all of my hair on top of my head. He hates this look, but it’s an easy way to keep my locks away from my coffee until I can force myself to look appropriate enough to associate with the human race. There are a few things I know for sure … nobody wants to get a stray hair in their latte and combing said hair should take place only after one is fully caffeinated.
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  Sitting at the dining room table slash desk, Sky pushes my work to the side and slides a mug in my direction. Pouring in a little cream and way too much sugar, I place my nose to the rim, inhaling the intoxicating aroma.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, testing the temperature of the insta-happy elixir inside the cup. I should remain stoic and unaffected, but the perfect mixture of warmth and sweetness calls my name. More like a beacon of light shining into my soul, guiding me safely to shore. Yep. I might take my morning … afternoon … cup of Joe a little too seriously.

  “Are you working today?” he asks while I decide if a second cup, spiked of course, is needed to deal with more of this drama today.

  “For a bit. Why?”

  “I have some things to do. Wanna get dinner later?” Two creams, three sugars and a shot of whiskey when you prepare my next cup, sir.

  I would like to introduce you to the art of topic changing. He’s not getting off that easy, and it’s the perfect time to go in for the kill.

  “Speaking of dinner, I talked to Danny yesterday, too. He said something about us getting together this week.”

  “Together us—like you, me, him and Melissa. Or together us … like just you and him?” Skylar asks, raising a brow and fixing his gaze on me.

  Really? Here I am thinking mentioning Danny will jar his memory. You know, like he’ll suddenly

  remember to tell me about closing the shop. Instead I get this? It’s official … passive aggressive doesn’t work with men. At least not mine, anyway.

  “Us, like all of us. He said any time after the first is good for him? Is there something

  that works best for you? I know you’re busy with work and the club. I didn’t want

  to just pick a day, in case you already had plans or something.” Taking a second

  jab at passive aggressive, I mentally cross my fingers and wait for him to catch on,

  start sweating in the hot seat or at least acknowledge I’m already up on his game.

  “Maybe next week Tuesday?” he responds, going back to stirring his coffee that’s not going to mix together anymore than it already is.

  Epic. Fail.

  “Tuesday works for me. I’ll check with Danny later. He also mentioned something about a basketball game and needing an answer from you,” I quip, no longer interested in this conversation, annoyance pulling my attention away before I snap.