Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
For my father, Phay,
who taught me the love of reading
She tried to commit suicide.
Those words keep repeating, over and over, in my head as I drive to the hospital.
How could she?
I know she is selfish, but damn.
Why the fuck is everyone driving so damn, slow!
I pound my horn at the car in front of me.
“It’s a green light, move you prick!” I yell to no one, but myself, in the car.
A tear slides down my face, I swipe it away with the back of my hand, and I punch the living daylights out of the steering wheel.
I pull my car into the first available parking spot I find after about 20 minutes of circling the fucking parking lot. I slam my car door as hard as I can and walk into the hospital with purpose.
I find her uncle in the lobby sitting in a chair, bent over. His elbows are on his knees, his face is in his hands, and his body is shaking.
“Greg?” I quietly ask. Not sure if I should disturb him.
He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. He shakes his head slowly as if he is unsure of something.
“She’s in a coma right now,” he tells me. Tears flow freely down his face.
I lace my fingers together on the back of my neck and look to the ceiling. I don’t know if I can take her uncle’s pain anymore. Fuck, I don’t know if I can even do this, seeing her lifeless will gut the insides out of me. I pound my fist against my forehead hard and unyielding, trying to take the pain away from my broken heart.
Dammit!
My mind, working overtime through a maelstrom of emotions goes where it shouldn’t, her family.
So, I ask the big dumb question he and I both know the answer to.
“Did her mom and siblings come to see her?”
“No, son, they didn’t. Apparently, they still blame her for my brother’s demise.”
With those words now hanging in the air around us, we stay quiet. I know we are both calming ourselves down.
Her fucking family didn’t even come to see her.
“Take me to her,” I say.
I can be a hard and compelling man when I need to be. Today is one of those days.
I will be a man here in this hospital.
I want to go and see the woman I love.
Greg nods and slowly stands up from the chair. He looks fragile, thin, and his clothes hang loosely on him.
“When was the last time you ate?” I ask him, my words laced with concern.
“I’m not sure, but we shouldn’t worry about me,” he states walking ahead to the elevators.
Elevators, in most hospitals, are extremely frightening machinery. It holds those seconds you still have before your life changes forever. For some, it’s good news as soon as you step off the elevator. For the unfortunate, you wish you can stay in until your fate has changed from outside.
The elevator dings and the doors open, my fate slams into me.
My heart lodges in my throat the moment my eyes land on her still sleeping body. My whole body constricts with such force it paralyzes me.
Her uncle turns back to me.
“You don’t have to come in. I know it’s hard,” he sympathizes.
I nod, holding onto the door frame.
Greg goes to her and caresses her cheek. He stares at her for a moment before he bends down to kiss her forehead. He whispers a prayer, stands back up, and walks over to me.
“I’m sending her away, when she gets better.” He says when he is standing in front of me.
I notice his former bright, brown eyes are now dull and lifeless. His natural tanned skin has lost its color. His hair that he usually styles everyday has been left in a messy array.
I reach for him and pull him in for a hug. I want to take all the hurt he has in him. I’m a big, strong young, man, I have more energy for this kind of shit.
“I will go with her. I will make sure she stays safe and happy. I don’t want you to worry about her anymore.” I tell him.
“You know, my brother didn’t tell you to stay away from her, for her benefit. He was protecting you from her.”
I look at him confused.
“He didn’t want Angel to break your heart, you have had enough heartbreak in your life. He told me he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if his own flesh and blood was the cause of your next heartache. We all know she couldn’t commit to anyone, always looking for the next best guy.” He shakes his head and pauses before continuing. “And you, he saw the love you had for her. It tore him apart seeing you fall deeper in love with his little girl.”
I look away not sure how I am supposed to take the information that has been given to me. My eyes land on Angel and I choke back my emotions.
“I love her. I stayed away from her to do the right thing for him. I don’t know if I should be angry that he kept me away from her or I should be grateful that he cared so much about my well-being.”
“You don’t have to stay away from her anymore,” Greg grabs one of my shoulders to meaningfully show his emphasis.
“Where are you sending her to?” I take my eyes off of Angel to look Greg in the eyes.
“Minneapolis,” he answers, matter-of-factly.
Greg is one not to beat around the bush.
“Out of all the millions of places you can send her, you want to send her there?” I ask trying hard to control my rage.
“You have to trust me. It’s the best place for her and for you too, son. She can get in touch with the city that her Dad grew up in.” He gives me a small smile.
Her Uncle sounds very convincing, but I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself, that the city I ran away from will be the best for her.
“I want the best for her too and if it means I have to follow her there I will.” I tell him.
He nods. “Who will run your company while you are gone?”
“My CFO.” I state.
“Will you take over Conti Investments there?”
“I’m not sure. Marcus and I haven’t gone over the specifics of the contract yet. And with everything that has happened with Angel, my life feels…wrong… incomplete.” I sigh. “Maybe I will take a breather and do some missionary work in other countries while Angel gets herself back together.”
“Son, you have always done the right thing and if you feel that’s what you need to do. Then go and do it.”
I steal another glance at Angel and try to man up enough to go inside her room. Greg, sensing that I need to have time alone to work through my emotions, excuses himself to leave.
After saying goodbye to her uncle, I walk inside Angel’s room. I push the chair as close as I can get to her bed, before I sit down. Seeing all the tubes attached to her delicate body makes me scared shitless to touch her. So, I don’t, I keep my hands in my lap. I tell her that I love her. I tell her about the changes I want to do with my life. I tell her I will protect and cherish her forever.
Walking through the airport to baggage claim, all I want to do is burst into uncontrollable sobs. I don’t want to be h
ere. But, I don’t have any other choice. I wonder if people can see me blinking rapidly, trying to stop my tears from flowing freely. I wish I could just release all my sorrow, all of my guilt through my tears, right here, right now. Then maybe I can jump on the next plane and go back home.
It sounds so easy. Just cry and everything will be okay. Whoever said those damn words was lying. I’d been crying my eyes out, every night for the past two years. I am still such a mess. My soul is still broken and I am here in a brand new city I know nothing about.
As I grab my luggage off the conveyer belt, I glance briefly at the marks on my hand. Those marks will always be my reminder of the horrible person I used to be. I am hit with a flash back of that fateful night, two years ago.
I tried to stay I really did. If only he would have let me, he would still be alive today. I was the only one that wasn’t doing anything important that day.
But, my stubborn Dad refused to be fussed over. He had told me: ‘you are young. You should be out with your friends, not hanging with a boring old man.’
So, I left and went on a date. A date I had been talking about for a whole week. A date that my family blamed for the cause of my Dad’s failing health.
I shake my head to clear the flashback from my mind, and I let the tears flow from my eyes. I am now, in the back seat of a taxi. No one is here, but the driver and I know he’s too busy watching the road to see what I am doing in the back seat.
Everything outside is a blur of flying buildings as the driver makes his way through the city. Faster and faster he drives. Faster and faster, my thoughts swim through my head. Faster and faster, I wish we can crash and end this hell I am living in.
“We are here,” the taxi driver tells me, after five minutes of me just sitting inside his cab staring at the townhouse I will be calling home. I nod my head, and wipe my tears away.
Getting out of the cab solidifies my reason to be here. I will make this new city my future. I don’t care what it takes. My plan is to lie to everyone here and start a new life.
I look out the window of the cab to the townhouse that I will be calling home for the next year. I climb out and take a moment to observe my surroundings. The house looks well taken care of, and I nod my approval.
I hesitantly knock on the door, just once and turn around to look at the street behind me. I am hoping the person, inside the house, isn’t home. Please don’t be.
Maybe I can go back home to mend my relationship with my mother. Uh! That will happen the day the earth, stops spinning. But, my wish doesn’t come true and the door is yanked open so fast I flinch.
“You are here! Come in, come in.” She grabs my suitcase and my hand at the same time to pull me in. She shuts the door with her foot when she gets me inside and drops my suitcase right beside the door. She pulls my duffle bag off my shoulder, places it on the floor, and pulls me into a hug. Her embrace is warm and sincere and I immediately feel my anxiety fade away.
“How was your flight?” She asks, pulling away from our hug.
“Long.”
“You must be exhausted. Come and have a glass of wine with me before I show you your room.”
“Um … I’m kinda tired … I wanted to take a nap,” I stammer.
“Before I show you your room, I want to let you know it’s in quite a state of disarray.”
“Oh … I don’t think it will be that awful.” I say.
“You can sleep in my room, if you don’t want to stay in your room after you see it … okay?” She looks at me hopefully.
“I will be fine,” I emphasize.
“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room,” Lola says.
I follow behind her with my luggage and my duffle bag. She opens the door and steps aside for me to walk inside before her. I walk inside the room and immediately drop my bags on the floor and my hand automatically goes up to my mouth to hold in my gasp. I hold in my tears. I hold in my anger. I drop my hand, turn around, and give her a fictitious smile.
“Thank you, it’s fine.”
Lola nods, but she doesn’t move and stares at me for another beat. She looks like she wants to say something else, but she is too afraid to do so. She accepts her fears, reaches for the door knob, and closes the door. I stare at the closed door for a minute, waiting to see if Lola changes her mind, and comes back to say what’s on her mind.
Hoping she doesn’t return, I sit down on the edge of the bed, and let the dam of tears break. I wrap my arms around my body and bend forward. Yes, this is how I comfort myself. I don’t deserve to have anyone else comfort me. I don’t deserve to have anyone share my misery.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I quickly wipe away my tears and straighten my hair. I open the door, Lola is standing outside, and her face is awash with guilt.
“Angel, I’m sorry you had to see your room this way. The girl that was staying in here was kind of messy.” Lola laughs, nervously. “She had a lot of parties in this room. I wanted to clean it for you, before you got here. But, I didn’t have the time. You showed up too soon.”
“Lola, it’s fine.” I lie and look around the room. “I can go buy paint, bleach, and something to clean the carpet with.” My eyes are fixed on the carpet.
“Do you want to go to the hardware store after your nap?” She asks, sounding very hopeful.
“Yes.” I reply.
“You should stay in my room until yours is all fixed up.” Lola beams.
“Okay,” I shrug and grab my luggage. Lola rushes forward, grabs my duffle bag, and walks out of the room, with me in tow.
We both walk into the hardware store feeling confident, well maybe just me. Lola looks lost as she tentatively walks towards the paint aisle. We stop in front of a section that has color samples on display.
“Um … so…” Lola seems at a loss for words as she scans the color samples.
“I don’t know how to paint.” I blurt out.
Lola bursts into laughter. “What are we going to do?” She asks, when she catches her breath.
“We can ask someone,” I look around, searching for someone to ask about painting.
There’s a guy standing at the end of the aisle loading supplies into his cart. I walk over to him.
“Hi.” I say.
His hand hangs in mid-air, with an item ready to be dropped into his cart. “Yes?” He replies, feigning annoyance. He drops his item into the cart. When he realizes I haven’t answered him, he looks up and arches his eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. I don’t, my words are caught in my throat. Back where I was standing with Lola, he looked less intimidating.
“Sorry to bother you,” I say, and slowly back away.
“Wait, did you need help with something.” He asks lifting up his hand.
I shake my head and walk back over to Lola. Her happy face drops when she sees me.
“He didn’t want to help us?” She pouts.
“He…” I start.
“He wanted to help, but your friend just walked away.” He cuts me off from behind.
Lola eyes widen as she looks past me. I step around to the other side of Lola using her as a shield. I quickly glance his way when I’m safely behind her. My stomach ties into knots when I see the hurt in his hazel eyes. I feel foolish for acting the way I am.
“My room’s a mess, we need to buy paint, and cleaning supplies.” I stammer, pause, and then continue. “And we need … everything.” I make myself step out from behind Lola and move closer to him.
He chuckles softly, his eyes light up, and when they find mine his lips turn up to give me a hint of a smile. “What color were you thinking of?”
“Maybe a light beige?” I shrug.
We turn toward the beige section of the color display and almost immediately, I find the perfect light beige color. The color screams beautiful, tranquil dreams, just what I need to help me forget my past.
I pick the little color postcard sample and hand it to him. “I like this color.”
He nods. “I
s your wall now, white?”
“Yes.”
“Then you won’t need a primer. Come with me, we’re going to take this sample card to the paint mixer and they will be able to mix the paint so you will have the correct color.”
We both follow him to the counter. He hands the card to the girl standing behind a counter that reads ‘paint mixer’.
“Give me ten minutes and it should be ready for you.” She tells him.
“Okay, thank you.” He smiles at her and the girl starts to twirl her finger around in her hair and bats her lashes at him. He doesn’t seem to notice and turns to walk away.
“Seriously?” Lola says, rolling her eyes at the girl.
I pull Lola’s arm to follow our guy, we really don’t need our color mixer to accidentally mess up my paint color. We follow him to pick up a cart and he pushes it towards one of the aisles.
“Now, we can gather up some painting supplies.” He tells us.
When we reach the correct aisle, he starts picking up things, and dropping them into the basket. Every time he reaches for something his long sleeve black t-shirt crawls up his arm, showing glimpses of his tattoos. I try to not stare at his wrist, every time they are exposed. My eyes wander, instead to his physique. His body is muscular and his shirt stretches out across his chest. His jeans hug his thick, manly thighs.
He catches me gawking, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply runs his hand through his short, light brown hair and he smirks.
After he gathers all of the supplies for us and picks up the paint from the paint mixer, who slips him her number.
“Call me,” She says, grabbing his forearm and sliding her hand slowly off of him.
He takes the piece of paper she hands him and shoves it into his jean pocket without saying anything to her.
Then he leads us to the cash register.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
He looks at me with his credit card in his hand ready to hand it over to the cashier. “I’m handing my card over.” He says arching his eyebrow.
I step in front of him. “You are not paying for my stuff. I don’t even know you.” I shove my card at the cashier.
“I know you don’t know me. I was just trying to be a nice guy and wanted to help you out.” He whispers from behind me.
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