“Why don’t you come to my parent’s house? We’re having a gathering there. We’ve barely had a chance to speak.”
“Rick, I just don’t feel right. I wanted to say goodbye and pay my respects, but this is a time for your family. I feel like a walking distraction.”
“Did you drive yourself here?”
“No…” I say, hesitant to tell Rick that I have a driver. “I took a cab.”
“Then let me drive you home. I’ll go to my parents’—mother’s—house after I drop you off.”
Rick’s insistence gets the better of me. “Okay, but only if you want. I can easily grab a ride.”
“No, you came out at the last minute. I am happy to take you home.”
“Alright.”
I awkwardly wait alone as Rick makes his way to the parking lot, stopping every few steps to accept condolences from the gathered mourners. In the distance he walks up to his mother, leans in and says something to her. She looks in my direction and shakes her head. For a moment I contemplate scurrying away, but it would only add to the drama.
Rick pulls up to the curb, and before I can let myself into his car, he steps out to open the door for me. It’s then something clicks and it’s like I am seeing him for the first time. He is in a black suit. He never wore a suit when we were together, always throwing on an old t-shirt and jeans. His light brown hair is freshly cut, and he has a short well-groomed beard. He looks fuller, firmer. His tall frame has filled out. He isn’t the lanky boy I once fell for, and for a moment, I remember the intense attraction I once had to him. He was always a cute boy and he has evolved into a striking man. I am sure the change was happening all along, slowly, before my eyes, but being away has now allowed me to finally notice it.
I shake the thought as he opens the door for me.
The car is silent for a minute before he speaks.
“Thank you so much for coming. I wasn’t sure how to reach out to you. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me again.”
“Of course I did…do.”
“I’ve thought about calling you so many times. But I know you’ve moved on, and I don’t know how to start over, how to be friends after being together so long. But, I think we should try, don’t you?”
I sigh. I had forgotten how incredibly gentle and kind Rick was. We had both gotten too comfortable, and we both forgot to do the small things, to remind each other how much we cared, how to talk about the things that lay deep in our hearts. I suppose that’s what makes me so mad for Taylor, everything we say and do always comes from that place deep inside of ourselves so effortlessly. I make a mental note to never take that for granted.
“I do, and I always intended to reach out to you eventually, but I thought we both needed time to figure out who we were without the other.”
“Have you really figured out who you are, Shyla?” The implication of his question, no matter how softly he asks, hits me like a bucket of ice water.
“What are you asking?”
“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“It’s okay. I deserve it. But, this is why I hesitated. Maybe we still need more time.”
“We run the risk of becoming strangers if we do.” We hit major construction before I can respond. “Shit, I didn’t even ask if we were going back to your apartment. I figured since we were in the city…”
“Sure, I need to grab some stuff from there anyway. Thanks. I’m thinking of the best way to get there from here…” My lovely downtown loft has been nearly relegated to a giant closet, as I’ve spent most of my time at Taylor’s house since Eric broke in. With things in our personal lives finally settling down, Taylor and I discussed spending more nights at the loft so we could be closer to H.I. and downtown. I actually look forward to spending a little alone time at my place for the first time in weeks.
“Oh I hit this last week, I just forgot about it. I know where to go.”
“Okay…” I use the physical detour as an opportunity to redirect the conversation. “How are you doing, Rick? About your dad.”
He blows out a lungful of air. “It’s tough. Really tough. My mom is messed up. He just retired. Lucy just got engaged.”
“To Tom?” I ask, happy to hear just a glimmer of good news.
“Yeah. And then this happened out of nowhere. There are so many things he hadn’t done yet. He was just getting ready to enjoy life, he hadn’t even had grandchildren yet.”
“I wish I had seen him before he passed. I had no idea.”
“I should have told you.”
“There’s no point in going back. I understand your hesitation. I’m just glad you called me today. And tell Karen and Lucy I’m sorry. I don’t think they were happy to see me.”
“They’re just upset right now.”
“Yeah.” We pull up in front of the apartment building and it’s then that I realize I never got around to telling Harrison that I would be leaving with Rick. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing, I just forgot something. Nevermind.”
“Lala…is it okay if I call you that? It feels so weird calling you Shyla.”
“Sure,” The fact that he even has to ask is its own sad story.
“Let’s not let this be the end. I lost my dad, and I can’t lose another person who is important to me. And we can be friends. I have come to terms with the fact that that’s our likely path. But, I am in a lot of pain right now, and there aren’t many people who got me like you did.” A tear trickles down his cheek. His tears have always been so huge, like they hold more sadness than everyone else’s. “I have been trying to hold it together for my mom and my sister, but it was supposed to be you who I could come to and cry on your shoulder. And then you weren’t here anymore.” A second tear. A third. A fourth. Underneath the beard, I see the boy who took me on our first date to Wendy’s, who found a dark and broken girl who cut herself and made her smile again. “I just needed to see you today. I miss you, Shyla. I miss you so much. And I don’t want to pretend like we weren’t special to each other, because we were. You don’t live with someone for years and then allow them to vanish from your life.”
He isn’t the only one crying. I never wanted to do this to him, it’s just the way things unfolded. “I can still be here for you. I swear, I never meant to hurt you and I know that doesn’t make it okay. But I am not sure we can fix this. I am not sure we can have a middle ground.”
I think about Taylor and how this might be unfair to him, but I don’t utter the words. It would only be salt on Rick’s wounds. “If you need to cry right now, I’m here for you. Just let it out. I’ll stay here with you as long as you need me to.”
Rick bows his forehead onto my shoulder and I cradle his head with my hands, smoothing his hair, comforting him in this new role. We sit like this an indefinite amount of time, until he melts into that spot and it doesn’t feel so strange to have him in my arms again. It could have been seconds or minutes. I don’t know.
Then before I can make sense of what is happening, Rick’s lips are on mine. His salty lips, familiar and strange all at once, press against mine.
I push him away. “What are you doing?”
“Fuck. Sorry…I…I had to try.”
“After all this friends talk, you had to go pull that?”
“I want you back Lala. I can’t believe some guy just fucking came into our lives and took you away from me. What kind of man does that?”
“Rick, stop. He didn’t do anything. It was me. I am the asshole. I am the person who hurt you.”
“You were seduced. He’s powerful and rich. Eventually that will get old. Do you really have with him what we had?”
“Rick,” I say, feeling so much pity, “you have no idea. And I think this proves that it’s going to be a while before we can ever maintain a healthy relationship where one person isn’t constantly hurting the other. This doesn’t work if one of us wants more than friendship.”
He scratches his head in bewilderment
, then pounds his thigh in frustration. “You don’t feel anything for me? When did it stop?”
“Rick, don’t do this.”
“Come on, just tell me.”
I could tell him that it wasn’t like I woke up one day and stopped loving him, that it was a slow, unceremonious death. I could tell him I still love him, but not in the way he wants me to. But those things will both crush him and give him false hope simultaneously. So I tell him the words that I believe will end this conversation. “Taylor proposed to me. We’re getting married.”
Rick’s chest sinks like I knocked the wind out of him. “What?” he asks in utter disbelief.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to keep piling on. Fuck.”
“It’s hardly been a year.” I shrug and shake my head. What’s there to explain? That’s just how it works sometimes. “I guess I waited too long.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s just how life happens.”
His eyes well up and then he pleads, almost frantically. “Shyla, don’t do it. Don’t marry him. Don’t marry him. You will regret it.”
“Rick, I can’t do this anymore. I have to go.”
“Shit. Don’t go like this.”
“We need more time. Take care of yourself, Rick. Maybe in the future we can…” I lose my composure for a moment, scrunching my face to keep it all from pouring out. “Maybe we can make it work.”
I ride up the elevator up my apartment, feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet for having to hurt Rick again on the day of his dad’s funeral. This was a huge fucking mistake. As soon as I enter the apartment I go to the bathroom and rinse the smudged makeup from my face. I collect myself in front of the mirror. And though there are so many feelings coursing through me, I still feel in control of these emotions. It wasn’t like just weeks ago, where they paralyzed me. I am going to be fine. I handled the situation to the best of my ability and that’s all anyone can do sometimes.
I walk back out to the living room to retrieve my phone from the coffee table where I had left it, so I could text Harrison and apologize for ditching him.
The dark figure sitting quietly in a shadowy corner sends a startling shiver down my spine as I recoil. “Oh my god. What are you doing here?”
“How was your visit with Rick?” Taylor asks coldly as he leans forward, out of the shadows.
Chapter 22
My instinct to scold Taylor for sneaking up on me instantly dissolves when I see the blackness in his eyes. It’s like I am stuck in a cage with a hungry tiger; I don’t want to trigger a reaction, instead, I must coax.
“Taylor, whatever you think—“
“I wasn’t done speaking.”
I cautiously nod.
Taylor stands up calmly and it’s far more terrifying than a hysterical reaction. He takes a few steps towards me, not shifting his pace. Instead, he makes me soak in the uncertainty of what he will do next. Then he is in front of me, looking down, his jaw clenched, his pupils wide, barely letting the blues and greens peak through. His shadow eclipses me, reminding me how powerful he is. Reminding me, that whatever illusion of strength I think I possess, I am completely at his mercy at this moment.
“Here,” Taylor says, handing me his phone.
I grab the phone with trepidation, and slowly tilt my head down to look at it. I don’t want to see whatever it is that he has to show me because I am pretty certain I know what it is.
On the screen is a picture of me cradling Rick’s head.
“Swipe the picture to the left.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do it.”
And I drag my finger, that feels like it’s fifty pounds, across the screen. I scrunch my eyes closed. The kiss looks so much worse than it was. My chest quivers with fear of losing Taylor over something so stupid. I look up at him with helpless eyes. I search for the words to explain what this all looks like.
“Rick’s father died. I was just comforting him.” I wonder how Taylor could have known about all this so quickly, and then I realize it had to have been Harrison. The hurt I feel by Harrison’s clear allegiance to Taylor over me is unexpected. “I didn’t sneak, I didn’t want to rub you in his face, so I didn’t want him to see the car and he offered me a ride home. I was going to tell you later today…” I am rambling. I sound guilty. Taylor reaches for my left hand and shakes his head in disapproval at the absence of my ring. “Shit. Listen. I didn’t want him to find out like that. I wanted to tell him before he saw the ring.”
“Shut up.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat. It’s been a while since I have seen a pissed off Taylor. I had forgotten how he becomes as hard, black, and cutting as obsidian.
He slides the phone out of my hand and puts in inside the breast pocket of his suit.
“You disappoint me, Shy, tremendously. Maybe I bear some of the responsibility. I haven’t been clear, maybe I have been too gentle with you. But I am going to make something very clear to you right now. So listen carefully, because as you know, I don’t like repeating myself.”
He stalks me as he calmly circles around me.
“You are going to be Mrs. Taylor Holden. You are my responsibility. You are my life. It is my job to protect you, to guard you, to please you. I don’t take that lightly. It is heavy. It means more to me than anything.”
His nostrils flare as he tries to maintain his composure. His frigid exterior heats up.
“And yet, you continually make that difficult. How am I supposed to protect you? How am I supposed to make sure nothing happens to you when you selfishly take off without explanation, without even thinking how you going to meet your fucking ex-boyfriend might appear to me?”
“His father died, I didn’t have time to call you. I thought explaining all this in person later would be better. And I was shocked, he was a good man. I barely got to the service in time. That’s all this was about.”
“You don’t fucking understand men. We see something we want, and we will find ways to have it. Some are direct, others are more conniving. If anyone lays a hand on you, or tries to take you from me, they will suffer. You need to think about how your actions might affect others.”
“He was emotional. He didn’t hurt me and he stopped. I didn’t kiss him back.”
“I know he didn’t, and I know you didn’t. Trust me, if I thought either of those things, this would be a very different conversation.”
He plants himself in front of me again, glares into my eyes, and then grabs my face in one of his hands, squishing my cheeks together. “You are mine, Shy. You will always be mine. I will never let someone else have you. I have many things, I have more money than I can ever spend in a lifetime. Yet, you are my most valued prize. Every kiss, every moan, every orgasm belongs to me. When someone steals a kiss from you, they are in essence stealing from me. So, I will guard you ferociously, I will destroy anyone whoever gets in our way. I have killed for you, and I would do it again and again if I had to. You need to learn to respect that, because it is dangerous. I am like a fucking grenade and you better learn to respect the danger I can become to people who threaten what we have.”
“Rick is not a threat,” I say, choking back the lump forming in my chest.
“Of course he isn’t. But it’s about respect. And that goes for the both of you. How the hell am I supposed to protect you, to make sure no one hurts you, when you just go into someone’s car without even thinking to tell Harrison? It’s like you want to piss me off. Maybe you like it.” He pulls his hand from my face and whips off his jacket, throwing it onto the chair behind him.
“You represent us now, and you need to start considering that before you make rash decisions. Everything you do affects me. If anything happens to you, so help every fucking body who even thought a negative thing about you. And part of protecting you is protecting you from me, because if you betray me—“ he stops short of completing his tho
ught.
“Asking nicely doesn’t fucking work with you though, does it? You need to fucking learn, you need to feel the repercussions of your actions for them to sink in. Most importantly, you need to remember something: my love is not gentle. It is not kind. It does not share. It is greedy.”
“I’m sorry. I just did what I thought was right.”
“By whom? Me or Rick?” He starts to slowly open his shirt, button by button, scowling at me as his glistening chest peeks through the shirt opening. “Because doing right by me should be your only concern.”
For a moment, time seems to stop as I take him in: his heaving chest, his intense glare, the muscles of his abs, his glossy hair, the power of his stature. I want him angry, I want him to absolve me of my stupid mistake by fucking the shit out of me.
“Get on your fucking knees.” I do so without hesitation. A surge of erotic warmth radiates between my legs.
“I remember when I used to have fits of rage as a kid, they tried everything. Putting me in a room to cool down, screaming, withholding privileges. It all meant nothing because the lashing out felt so much better than any of the worthless shit they could take away from me. And taking control away from me by punishing me only deepened my rage. I like being angry, I like breaking shit and fucking shit up.”
He stands over me, even taller now, like a colossus.
“Threatening to take away cookies or TV time meant shit. And it only made the source of my rage more potent. I was willing to take the punishment so I could fuck shit up. So I could destroy.”
I pant with anticipation as he continues.
“After a while, what did work was when my father sat me down once and said, ‘I want you to think about what you are doing and how it affects us. You are going to tell me the punishment you think you deserve.’ He gave me back the control I needed. That, alone, stifled some of the anger that stewed within me. Yet oddly, I chose far harsher punishments than they did because I think I understood how dangerous I was. They didn’t understand that I really fucking liked it. I knew if they wanted me to cool down, they were going to need to request far more sacrifice from me. I learned to discipline myself.”
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