by Anya Sharpe
The majority of Derrick’s clothing fills his side of the large walk-in closet. Only tomorrow’s outfit hangs on mine. Half the life of this apartment is gone.
That’s why I can’t stay if I intend to divorce Derrick. I choke up simply getting a glass for water out of the cupboard. There’s too much history of us here. It makes me want to second-guess my decision. Until I remember the video and his other apartment. Then, I’m nauseous all over again. If I don’t get off this emotional roller-coaster I’ll go crazy.
I think about the place I’m moving into and can’t imagine it will ever be “home.” Marti brought in beautiful furnishings, but they aren’t mine. Hopefully, after a few months, I’ll be more comfortable. The changes in my life are unsettling, and nothing seems right.
“I can’t believe this is my last night here.” I pull back the sheets and climb into bed. After I flick off the light, I stare out the window at the blackness of the city and hope sleep comes quickly.
****
I dig my toes into warm, warm sand as the wind picks up, swirling around me creating a tan cloud. None of the sand gets into my eyes, but the flowing white gown billows in the breeze and my long hair is lifted into the wind. Somehow, flashes of my past are projected in the sandstorm surrounding me.
A wedding.
A Christmas morning.
A lazy Sunday in bed.
Derrick’s face smiling happily in every scene—dozens of scenes.
He’s kissing me, touching me, it’s normal and comforting.
He whispers, but I can’t tell what he says. Until his words echo amid the storm.
“Goodbye.”
“Wait!” I reach for him. Our hands almost meet, but he’s too far, fading away.
The storm stops, and I fall to my knees and touch the ground around me.
Alone in the desert.
Jarred awake, I roll over and check the time. It’s after three in the morning. Still dark outside. I’m terribly thirsty, and my head is pounding, so I go to the bathroom to find pain reliever. Popping two in my mouth I drink down an entire glass of water.
I crawl back into bed and lay against the pillow. Will my life will ever be normal again? What will the new “normal” be like? Sadness floods me or the hundredth time. The life I thought I had and would have for dozens of years to come, is over.
I fight tears for a few moments, then, gratefully, slip into the darkness of slumber.
****
“Howdy, neighbor!” Cheerful Evan greets me in the elevator with a huge smile.
Cute dimples.
“I guess I’ll officially be your neighbor as of tonight, huh?” Even I notice the lack of enthusiasm in my tone. Heavy, conflicted emotions are running rampant this morning. Sadness rolled through my veins when I locked the door to our apartment. I almost couldn’t do it.
“Hey.” He places his hand on my arm. “How are you?”
I nod, praying tears don’t fall again. “I’m fine. I got emotional leaving for the last time, you know?” I’m speaking in a whisper, afraid a normal tone will cause those tears to bubble up.
Evan has no idea how I felt, but he nods sympathetically anyway.
Once off the elevator, he trails me into my office, having taken from me the duffel bag I was carrying. The rest of my married life in a small tote.
I toss my purse on the desk and crash down into a chair. Without thinking, the words spill out. “I hope I’m not making a huge mistake. This feels so wrong.”
Evan freezes in front of me, shocked by my admission. I continue babbling.
“I want to move on. Get on with it. Get over the bad stuff. Put my life in order. Maybe this is the hard part. Maybe it will get easier.” I’m really talking to myself, not so much Evan. I stand, straighten my skirt, and run fingers through my hair. Take a deep breath and exhale. Glue on a smile.
“Sorry. A tough start to the day.”
“I’m sure. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.” His expression is sincere, but something else I don’t recognize simmers below the surface.
“Thanks for everything—for being such a good friend, Evan. Don’t let me take advantage of you, okay?” I attempt a weak smile.
“There’s no way you could ever take advantage of me, sweetheart,” he says in all seriousness. He walks out of the office.
The day goes by so fast, six o’clock sneaks up on me. Time to go home. To my new home. My new future. Whatever that may be.
Wow. This is somewhat scary.
I’m shaking like a leaf when I unlock the door to the apartment. Here goes. Once inside, I survey the wide-open room in front of me. Maya and I placed a few personal things here and there. Those items feel almost out of place, I think, as I wander back to the master bedroom.
It’s too quiet. I change my clothes and head to the sound system Marti had installed in search of some upbeat music. Once it fills the room, I go into the kitchen and pull out a bottle of wine. The music helps. Frankly, so does the wine. Perhaps a little while on the terrace will soothe my nerves. Before I open the French door, the doorbell rings. I’ve told only a handful of people I moved, so the list of possible guests is small, which is comforting.
“Surprise!”
Three of the five people who know my new address greet me: Maya, Lance, and Evan. The men are loaded down with brown bags, and the aroma of some delicious food wafts into the apartment, bringing them in with it.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“We’re going to celebrate the first night at your new place with you, of course.” Maya glances around with wide, impressed eyes. “Damn, I still can’t believe you live here now.”
“Yeah. Me either.”
“We brought dinner, gorgeous,” Lance says with a wink.
“I can tell. It smells divine. I’m starving.” The scent of Italian food makes my stomach growl.
“I’ll get some dishes. Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Maya says.
Soon we’re around the large glass-topped table sharing an array of two kinds of pasta, veal scaloppini, Greek salad, fresh bread and two bottles of an amazing Cabernet Evan brought “from his secret stash,” according to Lance.
“Oh, my God, this is wonderful. I’m stuffed. Is this part of your “make sure Erynne eats” program, Evan?”
“Dammit, Lance,” he fake whispers. “She’s on to me.”
Lance glares at him. “She should be.”
Evan elbows him. There’s something more to their exchange. Maya notices too, but I shrug it off.
“Well, it was terrific. It was nice to have company for dinner tonight.”
After chatting and finishing off the last bottle of wine, Maya says, “I’d better go. Early day tomorrow.”
Lance and Evan agree it’s getting late. I hug both Maya and Lance.
“Thank you for taking care of me tonight. It was easier than being alone.” I get a bit choked up as I hold the door open.
Evan is about to press a button on the elevator, when he suddenly, snaps his fingers, turns and comes back.
“I forgot something. Can I have another minute?” He gestures inside my apartment, and I shrug, stepping aside to let him in. The elevator dings and Maya and Lance wave as the door closes.
“What’s up?”
Evan fishes around in his pocket, then holds out his hand. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I’m confused and frown as he places a key in my palm.
“The key to the penthouse. In case you need anything, you’ll need it for access. Lance has one, so he can come up and visit. It doesn’t open the front door or anything if that’s what you’re thinking.” He’s grinning at my shocked expression.
“Um, oh. Are you sure about this?”
He steps closer, his hands grasping my upper arms. I swear, the color of his blue eyes deepens several shades as he gazes down at me. His voice is low as he says, “Absolutely certain.” He allows one finger to trail down my cheek, before turning leaving.
I stand dumbfounded, and roll the gold key over in my hand. Icy shivers run down my spine.
The number four is engraved on it.
****
I’m fairly sure the key is burning itself into my palm as I stare at it.
Breathe, Erynne. Breathe. I remind myself after a few long seconds. I’m simply standing here in the middle of the floor with no idea what to do next. The sound of the cellphone ringing breaks me out of my trance, and I set the key on the granite counter. Derrick’s calling. I don’t want to answer, but I do.
“Erynne,” He sounds a little drunk, because he pronounces my name Err-wynn. “This place sucks without you, babe.”
Yeah, I know how that feels.
“What do you want, Derrick? It’s late.”
“I miss you, babe. Please…”
“Derrick, I have an early morning tomorrow. Why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep? You’ll feel better if you stop drinking.” I try to sound sympathetic, but honestly, I’m just annoyed.
A heavy sigh emits on the other end. “Okay…” He hangs up, surprising me with his cooperation.
By now I’ve forgotten about the key, so I flip off lights around the apartment and retreat to the bedroom. No sooner do I slide between the clean, crisp white sheets when my phone buzzes with an incoming text. I groan, fully expecting Derrick again.
Evan: Sweet dreams, neighbor. Sleep well.
How does this guy always manage to make me smile?
Me: Back at ya, Ace.
Evan: I meant what I said…
Me: What’s that?
Evan: If you need anything—day or night—call or come up.
Me: Thanks. G’night!
Evan: Goodnight, gorgeous.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Derrick
I’ve tried everything to get Erynne to agree to a reconciliation.
So far, she’s refused.
I’ve tried to distance myself from Morgan.
That hasn’t worked out so well, either.
Truthfully, I don’t know what I want anymore. My life is in shambles, spinning out of control around me. The only positive thing is we won the damned Martin case. At huge personal expense to me. I hate going into the office anymore. My job cost me my life. I’m even considering finding a new firm.
Emptiness fills me as I sit in the silence of our living room drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Sleep is difficult and brief. By four-thirty or five o’clock I’m tired of tossing and turning, reaching for the woman who isn’t next to me.
I hate this apartment. Everything reminds me of Erynne. Now I get why she moved out. I still love her, and inside I’m dying because I ruined our marriage and hurt her. Before Morgan showed up, we had discussed starting a family. Children I will never know. My mother isn’t speaking to me. She doesn’t understand what happened. How can I even begin to explain this mess to her? The church-going, law-abiding gentle woman who taught me manners and morals would flay me simply on the basis that I cheated on my wife. If she knew the whole story, I’m certain I’d be sending her to an early grave. Right after she disowned me for all eternity. I think Dad suspects I had an affair. He hasn’t asked and probably prefers to remain oblivious to the truth.
Jamie moved Morgan to the other office across town last week. She was pretty upset about the change and burst into my office, crying, demanding I change Jamie’s mind. Good thing he had a handle on the situation and diffused a potentially nasty fight.
There was never going to be a future with Morgan. She was a dead-end road I took when I got lost. My soul belonged to Erynne. Deep in my heart, I understand why Erynne will follow through with the divorce, even though it’s killing me. The only path left is to get my life on track. That involves a lot of hard decisions.
I know what I need to do, and reach for my phone.
****
“That’s the last of it, man.”
“Thanks, Danny.” I stand up from where I was packing the computer and other electronics and walk toward my long-time friend and sex club owner. “I appreciate you finding a home for all this stuff.” I clear my throat.
“I can always use extra equipment at Silk. I can’t believe you’re giving this up, though.”
“It was long overdue, and cost me too much. I need a fresh start.” I glance around the now bare apartment, which I managed to sublet until the lease expires. If I’d been smart, I would have done so years ago and eliminated temptation.
“You sure you don’t want a year’s membership at Silk in exchange for this gear? I don’t mind giving you the cash, but…”
“Nah. I’m going to give some of the money to Erynne. To help her get on her feet again. She didn’t take much from our place. I’ll donate the rest.”
“Sure. Hey, I gotta cut out. Don’t be a stranger. Come by the club once in a while.”
We shake hands. “Thanks again.”
In my current frame of mind, I doubt I’ll ever return to Silk, but I don’t tell Danny. That lifestyle was too costly.
After he leaves, I get back to packing up the electronics, which are the only things left to remove from what was my play room for so many years.
A light tap on the ajar front door catches my attention.
“Whoa. What happened here, Derrick?” Her whiskey voice is sultry as ever.
Morgan strolls into the center of the now nearly barren studio apartment. As always, she’s a siren in tight-fitting black leather pants and a white and silver top which seems to be shrink-wrapped around her. Gorgeous red hair flows down her back, skimming her waist.
For once, I’m not attracted to her at all. Not a single spark of lust or desire stirs.
“Morgan. Thanks for coming over.” I’m sure she thought we had a play date. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Are you remodeling the playroom?” The trepidation in her voice matches the stunned look on her face as she takes in the state of the room.
“No. Not remodeling. Removing. Everything. Permanently.” My words are harsh, which is fine.
“I don’t understand. Why did you ask me to come over?”
In a few steps, I am directly in front of Morgan. She’s tall enough at about five-foot-seven, but I tower over her. I can still unnerve her with my physical presence.
“It’s over, Morgan. All of it. This,” I gesture around the empty space, “and you. This cost me too much. I’ll never convince Erynne to give me another chance, which kills me. I was stupid to let things start up again with you. I love my wife. Now, I’ve lost her.”
She shakes her head, confused. “But…I thought…”
I cut her off. “I don’t love you, Morgan. I never will. It was always just fucked up sex. I’m done.”
“I gave up my job in Baltimore for you. I missed you, Derrick. I love you.” Tears are slipping down her cheeks.
“I never asked you to. You just showed up. And, frankly, you blackmailed me into resuming our relationship.” I’m angry. At her. At myself. She shouldn’t have come back. “I’ve been forced to give up everything because of this…thing.”
I pace the bare floor, running fingers through my hair, and stop at a small set of windows previously covered in dark shades and curtains. Now the room is flooded with natural light, no longer a makeshift dungeon.
“You do what you need to do for you. Stay here. Go back to Baltimore. I don’t care. However, two things aren’t going to happen again. I can’t work on any cases with you, and I won’t see you outside of standard office hours if you choose to remain at the firm. You’re a damned good lawyer. It’s your right to stay. But, we are over. Completely.”
“You can’t be serious.” She’s weeping, and I sense an underlying anger brewing. Morgan can shout and threaten all she wants. I’m standing my ground.
“I am. Totally.” I stay firm. This time it’s easy, because I honestly want nothing more to do with Morgan Banner, unlike years ago when she ran off to New York when I wouldn’t return her words o
f love. Then, I still craved her and the sick sex. Today is different.
“You can’t do this. I finally got you away from that frigid bitch. You belong with me. You can’t do this.”
“What did you call Erynne?” I am stunned, but rein in my growing temper and the urge to slap her. “Back off, Morgan. Accept it.”
She loses her cool, the tears drying up, and the shouting starts. “I fought to get a job at this firm so I could be with you again. I waited for years for a position to open up. We belong together, Derrick. You’re a sick bastard, and you need me. You know you do. I made you cave like the pussy you are. I hardly had to try, and you were ready to beat my ass and make me suck your dick. I topped you from the bottom and won. This isn’t over. Not even close.”
My footsteps are heavy and sure as I approach Morgan. All facial emotions are locked down with a harsh, firm expression. I place my hands solidly on her upper arms, giving her a quick, hard shake, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
“You stepped over the line. This is over. Permanently. Get it through your pretty little head.”
“Fuck you, Derrick Sommers.” Her mouth twists in an ugly grimace. “I’ll file a lawsuit against you for sexual harassment. The firm, too.” Daggers are shooting from her eyes. Fortunately, I’m prepared.
“I don’t think you will.”
“Just watch me.” The words come out like a hiss. “I will ruin you.” A nasty, confident grin forms. “Unless you want to rethink this.” She thinks she’s got me by the balls. She couldn’t be more wrong. Unbelievable. I knew Morgan was manipulative, but not to this level.
“It. Is. Over.”
“I promise you will regret this.” She’s back to hissing. I find nothing attractive about her whatsoever now.
“I don’t think so. This whole conversation was recorded, Morgan. It’s being electronically transferred to another file. I’ve saved every one of your emails and texts threatening to expose our former relationship to Jamie and Erynne if I didn’t play nice. I’ve recorded a few of our phone calls. You’re a lawyer. You know you don’t have a leg to stand on.”