Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  “She ripped my fucking heart out, Jesse, leaving me with all her things in my house like she didn’t even care about anything.”

  “But don’t you see, George? She didn’t give a shit about anything except running,” Jesse protested. “Jamie’d been killed right in front of her. Shit, from what I heard, his face exploded on her and all she thought about was that she destroys everything she loves. She told me she didn’t want to destroy you.” He sighed. “Now, I’m not saying that shit isn’t crazy. I’m just saying she wasn’t in her right mind, you know?”

  “She ripped my fucking heart out,” George repeated.

  Jesse chuckled. “Yeah, I got that.”

  The whiskey still burned as it went down his throat, but it was getting smoother the more he drank. He’d been drunk since he read Stella’s note. “I think about her all the time. I wonder if she’s okay; if she’s hurting as bad as I am…”

  “She is,” Jesse confirmed.

  “You’ve talked to her?” Of course he’d talked to her.

  “Yeah, man.”

  “I told her I couldn’t keep losing her.” Where is this verbal diarrhea coming from?

  “I know.”

  “I called her a fucking liar.”

  “I know that too.” Jesse sighed.

  “Jess, she lied to me. She told me she was going to be with me for the rest of her life, then she ran. She fucking ran to fucking Patrick.”

  “So what’s pissing you off more, that she ran or that Patrick found her and you didn’t?” Jesse laughed.

  “Patrick,” George admitted. Fuck, he really didn’t want to tell anyone that.

  “I guessed that one.” Jesse chuckled again. “You know he’s gone right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s driving down to Atlanta now. He got transferred down here.”

  “So…is she still staying with Millie?” George asked. He hadn’t asked her anything on the phone, just let her apologize and then yelled at her for ten minutes before throwing his phone against the wall.

  “Yep.”

  “I wanted to kill him, you know,” George said, then took another gulp of whiskey. “I would’ve fucking killed him myself.”

  “I’m aware,” Jesse placated him.

  “If they find out who killed him, I’m going to shake his fucking hand. The FBI and ATF are being hush-hush about the whole damn thing.”

  Jesse was quiet for a beat. “They’re reporting fucking Jack Ryder died. I can’t believe how fucked up this whole situation is. I mean, no one’s even acknowledging Jamie Rivers.”

  “I don’t fucking care anything about him or his family. He destroyed our lives. His fucking sister drugged El.”

  “I know…I know. I just wonder how they’re keeping all this shit secret, you know?”

  “I don’t want it to end like this,” George confessed quietly, hanging his head.

  “How do you want it to end?”

  “When she and I are old and gray and our minds are the only things working anymore.” George’s words were starting to slur together. “When we’ve had 50 years together, holding hands and fucking.”

  George willed himself to not cry, not to feel the shattering of his own heart. When he’d read the note she left for him, his entire world broke apart and fell at his feet. Then every fucking morning when he woke after passing out and he realized she wasn’t there, his heart shattered all over again. He was working so hard to think of something else besides the curve of her ass and her obnoxious laugh.

  “George! Call her, talk to her,” Jesse commanded. “Make it work.”

  “I told her it was too hard to be with her. It was too—”

  “Fucking call her, man, you’re miserable,” Jesse interrupted.

  “You know what she said, Jesse? She said that if things weren’t hard, they weren’t worth shit. I’d told her that before about us. I’m beginning to think that she was right, though. We just weren’t meant to be.” He knew he was telling himself that because he just didn’t know if he could get over the fear she’d keep leaving him.

  “That’s bullshit and if she’s got you thinking that, I’m more worried about her than I was before.”

  “Hey, man, I have to go and finish the rest of my whiskey. I’ll start slurring soon, so…”

  Jesse laughed. “You’re already slurring, man.”

  “Thanks, Jesse. I appreciate you calling.” George disconnected and took a long pull from his bottle. He hoped he’d pass out soon.

  She’d skipped her appointment with Denise while she was at the beach, so this was her first session after Jamie was killed. Stella sat cross-legged in the arm chair, her black ankle boots on the floor where she’d kicked them off when she walked in. She found she was able to think better with her shoes off. She examined her black and white striped tights instead of looking at Denise.

  “Stella. How are things today?” Denise asked.

  “Things are…” Stella couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to put her emotions into words.

  As if Denise knew the problem, she asked, “If you had to describe your mood with a color what would it be?”

  “Brown,” Stella answered automatically.

  “Okay, brown? Why?”

  “Brown is ugly and has no redeemable characteristics.”

  “Some people like brown,” Denise countered. “But, so that’s your mood?”

  “My mood is devastated.” She ran a finger down her leg to scratch her foot; the white lines of her tights curved when they reached her calves. “It’s surreal. I’ve been barely functioning for the last year, but on the surface, people see a professional who’s good at what she does. You see me engaged to someone I love. You see me handling all these things in the media…”

  “You do appear to be moving through all these things seamlessly.”

  “Seamlessly?” Stella’s laugh escaped her mouth and it was bitter and hard. “That may be an appropriate statement, because in order to look seamless, you must need to have an entire world of shit going on under the surface. I don’t see this seamless outside, but I’ll tell you I’ve never felt more lost inside.”

  “Stella, you’ve been through more than any one person should go through in a lifetime. It seems like the threat is over and you deserve to be happy. Will you allow yourself to be happy?” This was the first time Denise had ever even referred to their off the record conversation.

  “I don’t even know how to be happy anymore,” Stella confirmed.

  “You need to change how you look at yourself. Don’t be the person you were, be the person you want to be for yourself. There’s nothing holding you back, Stella. Cut the anchor that’s been holding you down and swim to the surface as fast as you can.”

  Stella took that in. Denise really believed that she could simply decide to be different, be better. She wondered what Denise would think about her real actions, about her betrayal of the man she loved. There were times where the admission was on the tip of her tongue, where she almost begged for forgiveness. She didn’t know if she could be better. She wondered if telling Denise everything would make her feel better.

  No, she didn’t deserve to feel better. She’s the one who made all of the decisions that changed her internal makeup. She wasn’t the broken victim anymore, she wasn’t the heartbroken girl anymore—she’d changed her own story.

  She’d rewritten her story to be the master of her own decisions, to do evil, and to fight for her life. She’d won, right? She had to live with these lies and her actions everyday of her life, but it was worth it. She’d have to be okay with that.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Three Minutes

  He’d been drinking since noon. It was Sunday, the week before Christmas, and he’d flown into DC late last night; he was taking the entire week off and not completely sure he was looking forward to it. He was sitting in his office at the bar, drinking by himself.

  George didn’t like coming home anymore because it was their h
ome, not his. Fuck, it even still smelled like her. Her favorite cereal was still in the pantry and her fucking shampoo was in their shower—she was everywhere. Her closet was still mostly stocked with her clothes and shoes, minus the pile of stuff Millie had taken to her house in some sort of covert operation. It was torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.

  George unscrewed the bottle of Jameson and poured it into a glass with a few ice cubes and looked at the picture he’d put on his desk a few weeks ago. It was them in Aspen on top of the mountain, both of them with enormous grins and Stella with his ring on her finger where it should be. Or not. He didn’t even know if that’s what he wanted anymore, if she was so ready to leave him. He leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out what he wanted. Again.

  Smiling, he thought back to the girl he’d first met at the park when Brutus and Cooper were playing. There’d been something about her, the sparkle in her eye and her sexy southern accent drew him to her. Her ass hadn’t hurt his eyes either. She was a different person than she was that day, and she’d turned into an entirely different person since she first started coming to the bar. She went from a girl crushed by her circumstances to a woman that could move fucking mountains at will. He didn’t know what she was now, only that she thought she wasn’t good enough for him.

  He pulled a piece of paper from his printer and took a gulp of his whiskey. Then he wrote.

  He looked at the list, hoping for some moment of clarity. It gave him none.

  Stella tried to talk to him every day in some way since she got back from the beach; she’d apologized time and time again and seemed to sincerely want to make it better. The problem was that he didn’t know if anything she said or did could erase what she’d done. Maybe he’d lost her one too many times. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. 6:12. Perfect. He’d walk to his mom’s for Sunday dinner. He’d been avoiding his family for weeks, not wanting to deal with them. George knew they knew because he’d been getting well-meaning messages and texts every day for the last 10 days. Nothing was ever a secret when you were dumped by the FBI Beauty, he thought bitterly. Walking out in the crisp evening air, he pulled his wool cap down and put his gloves on. His breath appeared in front of him and it made him think of her again, how she was a part of him and there was really no escaping it. The cloud of his breath went away. “Just like you, El, a part of me and then you just fucking disappear.” I must be drunk; that didn’t even make any fucking sense. He laughed and it tasted acidic on his lips.

  His face was numb from the cold by the time he walked in his mother’s house. His family was sitting around the table and all heads turned toward him when he appeared in the dining room.

  “Unca Wih!” Finn got up from the table and ran to him, giving his lower legs a bear hug.

  “Hey, light of my life.” He lifted her with ease and embraced her.

  “You stink,” she said and waved her hand around. Her curls bounced around her face and she squeezed her nose with her other hand.

  George laughed. “Tell me how you really feel.” He put her down and walked to the head of the table to kiss her mother’s cheek and then slumped in his seat at the other end of the table.

  His mother got up and went in the kitchen.

  “Are you drunk?” Kelly hissed.

  “Yes,” George stage-whispered.

  “Are you okay, Will?” Kara asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

  He hadn’t talked to her since she dropped him off at his house when Stella left, but it didn’t stop her from checking in on him every day.

  “We’ve all been trying to get in touch with you,” she continued.

  He nodded. “I know.”

  His mother came back from the kitchen with a plate and a glass of water for him. She silently began putting food on his plate.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled.

  “Well?” Jack asked. “Are you working or sulking?”

  Kara, Kate and John glared at him.

  George erupted in laughter. “Fuck you, Jack.”

  Everyone gasped and Kara stood quickly. “Finn, come on, baby, let’s go in the other room. You’re done anyway.”

  “You said a bad word!” Finn called over her shoulder as Kara herded her out of the dining room.

  “Sorry, Finn!” Shit. He was too drunk to be here.

  Kate stared at him, her grey-green eyes boring into him.

  “Eat this.” His mother put a plate of food down in front of him and sank back into her seat. “Maybe you’ll be able to have a proper conversation after you eat.”

  “I haven’t had a decent conversation in two weeks.” He began shoveling food in his mouth.

  Kara came back in, her eyes full of concern. “Will, talk to us.” She put her hand on his left hand to comfort him.

  “About what, Care Bear?” He put his fork down. “About how the love of my life walked away from me and completely crushed me? About how the media is having a circus with her life? With my life?”

  “If that’s what you want to talk about.” Her voice was calm, trying to soothe him.

  “I don’t want to talk about that.” He picked up his fork and continued eating.

  “Are you working?” John asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been in Florida and New Hampshire this week and the fucking primary is like a year away.”

  “Watch your language in my house, young man,” his mother snapped.

  He hung his head. He shouldn’t have come. This was a very bad idea.

  “So you went right back to work after she left?” Kara interrogated.

  “Yep.”

  “Jessica said you missed several days,” Jack said.

  George looked at his sister with a glare.

  “Why the fuck are you talking to her?” George roared.

  “Willston George Finnegan, if I have to tell you to watch your language one more time, you will finish your meal on the porch.”

  “You know what, Mom? I’ve lost my fucking appetite.” He pushed himself from the table with such force the chair scraped the floor with a loud noise that filled the awkward silence. He stalked toward the door.

  “Will, we warned you about her.” His mother’s voice froze him in his tracks. “I never liked her and you were going to marry her against my wishes. This is for the best.” Her lips were pursed as if she’d smelled something rancid.

  Slowly, he turned to face his family and the anger he’d been keeping at bay for the past weeks exploded. “Oh really, Mother? This is for the best? That the love of my life ripped my fucking heart out? Better that I’m miserable than be associated with her? I’m walking around like a zombie because I don’t know if I want to get her back, but you think this is for the best? The woman who I asked to marry me, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, had someone murdered in front of her and instead of running to me for comfort, she fucking left me. You think that’s best for me?”

  “Will, you will not use that tone of voice with me.” His mother’s voice was steely and unforgiving. “It’s what’s best for this family. She was embarrassing and not good enough for you.”

  “I know I had to do a lot of explaining at my work about my future sister-in-law,” Jack put in.

  George turned his fury toward Jack. “Oh really? Did you tell your coworkers about jacking off to her picture too? Because I’m sure that would have been an interesting conversation.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “You asshole.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m the asshole. How about you pay your own fucking mortgage from now on, motherfucker? See how you like that.”

  Kelly stood up, her eyes blazing. “You can’t do that, Will. That’s our money.”

  “Fuck ‘our money.’ You’ve been sitting on your ass for years. I do everything for you and you can’t even accept my future wife into our family. You know what, fuck all of you…” He wrenched opened the front door and marched down the stairs.

  Well, that didn’t turn out like I expected.

  Stella and
George had talked several times. He was still mad. Their first conversation was harsh. What she remembered most was the tone in George’s voice—he’d given up on her, on them. Stella had thrown herself into her work so she wouldn’t think about the two men that had her tied in knots. Millie was still letting her stay, but she’d looked at a couple of places for herself with Cooper. She was hoping to find a place before Christmas, but that was just a few days away. She’d still been throwing up every day, so obviously the stress and anxiety remained. She’d run out of her stomach medication two months ago and she just hadn’t had time to get back to the doctor. When she finally called, the first appointment available was the Monday after Christmas. Why they couldn’t just call in a fucking refill on her meds, she’d never understand.

  Stella was straightening her hair when Millie popped her head in the bathroom.

  “At least make an appointment to see that stomach doctor,” Millie reminded her for the billionth time. “The acid in your stomach is eating away at my pipes.”

  “That’s fucking disgusting, Millie.” Stella looked at Millie in the mirror. “I got an appointment; they just can’t see me until next week.”

  “When I lived in the sorority house, they had to get new pipes because of all the vomiting that went on.”

  Stella turned and laughed. “You’re lying.”

  “Swear.”

  “That’s nasty.” Stella shook her head. “Hopefully you won’t have to get new pipes just because you let me stay here for a few weeks.”

  “Should you go to a different doctor sooner, like urgent care or something?”

  “No. I think, with all my problems, it’s best if I see my doctor, who’s familiar with my background.” Stella shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to have to take the time to explain my medical history to another doctor.”

  Millie turned and walked into the living room to grab her things. “If I didn’t know you couldn’t be pregnant, I’d be making you take a test!” she called as she shut the door.

  A spike of fear drove through Stella’s entire body. Then she laughed. Although she hadn’t had her period in a while... Wait. When was the last time she had her period? She couldn’t remember. She wasn’t necessarily regular after she’d gotten out of the hospital, so it didn’t worry her that much. The doctors all told her she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant because of all the surgeries she’d had, but for a minute, her mind responded like it was a possibility and her paranoia about getting pregnant since she started having sex took over. She shook her head, laughing at herself. Impossible.