Does She Love You?

by Rachel Spangler

  “I know what you mean.”

  Nic’s blue eyes weren’t as clear as in the past, but they could still pierce her defenses. “I think you do understand. I’m sorry, Belle. So sorry.”

  “Hush.” She sat back. “What’s done is done.”

  “Is it?”

  Annabelle watched her silently. Where had this reflective side of Nic come from? She didn’t like it. She had no answers to these kinds of questions.

  “Why are you here, Belle?”

  “I’m still your power of attorney. The hospital needed someone to sign paperwork.”

  “You could have refused.”

  “Davis said the same thing.” Anger rebounded, pushing some of the sadness out of her chest, and she sat up. “You know, fine. Maybe I should have.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just didn’t give you any reason to care about what happens to me.” Nic shook her head, then grimaced. “I didn’t even care what happened to me.”

  “Well, Nic, I know you might find this hard to believe, but sometimes it’s not about you.”

  Nic stared at her for a long minute before she smiled. “Wow.”

  “I signed your paperwork. Deal with it.” Anna flopped back into her chair and continued more calmly. “I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”

  “Okay.”

  “No, it’s not just okay. It’s better than okay. I’ve got my own interests and instincts, and I really don’t need anyone else in my life to tell me where or how or what I should care about.” Annabelle was on a roll. Nic could have lost consciousness and she would have kept right on. “Sure, I could’ve left you alone. I could’ve stayed when Davis asked me to. I could’ve walked out on both of you for trying to control me, but that’s not who I am. And despite what either of you say, I like who I am. I like making my own choices. I trust my judgment.”

  “I’m envious of you.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of yourself.” She didn’t feel like someone to envy. Her heart ached. She missed Davis’s presence, her touch, her strength, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if any woman would love her if she didn’t bow to their will. Was it possible to be herself while being with someone else?

  “No, really. You know your own mind. I’m jealous.”

  “Really? I’ve never known you to be indecisive or apologetic about what you want.”

  Nic stared at the ceiling and sighed. “Maybe not indecisive. But I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve made my life decisions for the wrong reasons.”

  “What do you mean?” This wasn’t the smooth, calculated Nic she knew. Her conflict was disarming in a completely different way than her confidence had been, which made Annabelle skeptical.

  Nic seemed to wrestle with her thoughts before saying, “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t proving myself to someone else. I never stopped to think about what I really wanted to do.”

  “I’m sorry if I contributed to that,” Annabelle said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into a life you didn’t want or make you feel responsible for my happiness.”

  “No. I’m sorry for wrapping you up in all of my issues. They started long before you.” Nic frowned. “I did love you, but I’ve started to realize I never really saw you. You’re clearly better off without me.”

  Certainly she lived a fuller, more self-directed life, but a lonelier one. Or at least it had been lonely except for the few hours she’d spent holding Davis. “It’s all subjective, Nic, but if you’re looking for absolution from me, if that’s what you need, you’ve got it.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I’m tired of running and not knowing what I’m running toward.”

  “Maybe it’s easier that way, but running toward things didn’t lead either of us to anything worth holding onto.”

  “But you do feel better now, right?”

  She didn’t feel very good at the moment. “I like myself a lot more than I did a year ago.”

  “Good.” Nic hesitated, as though she wanted to say something else.

  “If you have something to say, I suggest you do so.” Annabelle shook her head. “I’ve learned a hard truth is better than a pretty lie.”

  Nic stared at her in wonder. “I’m so impressed with you, but I’m confused, too.” She seemed almost sheepish. “Is it the pain or medicines, or did you mention Davis earlier?”

  Now it was Annabelle’s turn to look at the ceiling. She no longer felt the need to soothe Nic’s fears or ego, but how could she put into words something she couldn’t even label yet? “We’ve…spent some time together lately.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Nic cleared her throat nervously. “I would say I don’t believe it. But after hearing you talk, I guess it makes sense.”

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Maybe you need another CAT scan, because most people can’t think of anything that makes less sense than me spending time with your ex-mistress.”

  Both of them winced at the term. She didn’t know why she’d even said it. She didn’t think of Davis as belonging to Nic at all, certainly not in such reductive terms. The distance she tried to force between them didn’t feel right, not in the way Davis’s lips had felt right. Somehow Davis had taken a powerful place in her heart, but her heart was a traitor, and for some reason this betrayal hurt more than all the others.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she covered them with her hands.

  “God,” Nic whispered, the sound filtered through wonder. “Belle, are…are you…in love with Davis?”

  Annabelle’s face flamed, and her pulse accelerated so quickly she got light-headed. The overwhelmingly visceral response transported her back to the heated press of Davis’s lips against her own. “I…I’m not ready.”

  “Not ready?”

  “I mean, it’s only been six months. You hurt me. And trust, Nic, how can I?”

  “So no?”

  No?

  She didn’t love Davis?

  She needed more time to process, to heal. She needed to wait. She needed space and perspective. No, there had to be some other reason she felt so at ease in Davis’s presence, and another explanation for the abiding trust they shared. Then there was the small issue of her powerful attraction to Davis…and the passion she stirred in parts of Annabelle that she’d tried to bury after the emotional wreckage of Nic’s betrayal.

  And what about the way she ached to hold Davis, touch her, to soothe her pain?

  “Belle?”

  “It’s too soon. I’m not ready to say it.”

  “Oh.” Nic looked at her with a mix of disbelief and humor. “I suppose you get to decide when you say something, but don’t have much control over when you feel it.”

  Her heart swelled in her chest until each breath hurt. How had she not realized? Had she deliberately tried to force her heart to remain closed? Last night when everything had become too much to ignore, had she purposefully pushed Davis away? And now that she had slammed the door, could she reopen it? Did she even want to?

  “What about Davis?” Nic asked. “Does she love you?”

  Annabelle began to cry again, and this time she didn’t try to stop or hide the tears running down her cheeks. Maybe Davis could have loved her if Anna had given her the chance instead of betraying her in a way that reaffirmed her deepest insecurities. Her shoulders shook with the onset of jagged sobs.

  “I’m so sorry, Belle,” Nic said. “Maybe with time she could feel the same way you do.”

  “Or maybe I already do,” Davis said, causing Nic and Annabelle to jump.

  “Davis.” Anna gasped and tried to blink away the image, unwilling to believe she was really there. Davis’s copper hair stood out at odd angles. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and her shoulder pressed against the doorframe as if supporting the weight she didn’t have the energy to bear. She looked terrible, but Annabelle couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. “What are you doing here?”

  Davis shrugged. “Maybe I’m n
ot ready to say it either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

  Annabelle was in her arms in an instant—delirious, giddy, and so painfully relieved. She didn’t need a formal declaration of love or a fairy-tale ride into the sunset. She only needed Davis.

  *

  Davis surrendered to the rightness of the woman in her arms, oblivious to her surroundings or her audience. Pressing her lips to Anna’s, she let go of everything else and clung to the connection between them. Tasting the salt of their mingled tears, she marveled how quickly they’d transitioned from cries of sadness to ones of joy. She cupped Anna’s face in her hands, running her thumbs along her perfectly smooth skin, clearing away any reminder of the pain she’d caused. It wouldn’t be as easy to erase the doubts and insecurities between them, but she felt an overpowering sense of gratitude about having the opportunity to try. Hope, promise, and potential were words she feared would never apply to her, but in Anna’s kiss she experienced them all.

  Nic coughed behind them, pulling them back into the moment. If Davis wasn’t so happy, she might’ve strangled her for interrupting. Instead she said, “Hello, Nic.”

  “Hi, Davis. I’m glad to see you.”

  Davis scanned her battered form, finding little resemblance to the woman she’d fallen for, and even less appeal when she compared her to the woman she held now. Still, something akin to compassion stirred in her when she met the haunted blue of Nic’s eyes. “I suppose I’m glad you didn’t die.”

  Nic nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Will you give us a minute?” Davis nodded to the doorway.

  “Please,” Nic said, sounding more exhausted with every exchange.

  Not wanting to break the contact between them, she took both of Anna’s hands in her own and backed out the door.

  In the hallway, Anna jumped back into her arms. “What made you come?”

  “I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”

  “But Nic—”

  “This isn’t about Nic anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time, and I’m sorry for not seeing that sooner.” She lifted Anna’s hand to her lips and kissed each of her fingertips. “I was so afraid she still had a hold on you and that’s why you left. I wanted to go after you, but I made myself crazy thinking that if I caved now I’d never be free of her. If it hadn’t involved her, I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

  Annabelle’s eyes glistened with fresh tears. “What changed your mind?”

  “You did. I remembered what you said about how living your life in opposition to someone gives them just as much control as living for them. It wasn’t easy, but when I cut Nic out of the equation, there was no question about what I wanted. It’s you, Annabelle.”

  “Do you really mean that? Do you really think we can have a life without her?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still afraid sometimes, and insecure, and I can’t unlearn all my defenses in one night. I wish I could promise you a picture-perfect life, the life you deserve, but I’m a mess.”

  “Maybe I need a little more mess in my life.” Anna laughed.

  “Really?”

  “I’ve already tried the picture-perfect life. Look where it got me.” She nodded over her shoulder to Nic’s hospital room. “All the pretty trappings were empty, and so was I. If we’re going to take a chance on each other, I’d rather try something real.”

  “Something real. I want that, too.” Davis barely finished the phrase before Anna was back in her arms, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, making it clear once again that all that mattered was them.

  Epilogue

  February

  “Hey, Nic, I thought you had to catch the five o’clock bus,” one of her colleagues, a young woman with dark eyes and a pretty smile, said.

  She’d seen her around a few times in her first two weeks at work, though she’d yet to learn her name. She was cute and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know Nic, which would’ve been enough a few months ago, and maybe someday Nic would feel up for that kind of interest again. Right now she was content to steal one more look at the expanse of Turner Field laid out before her. “Yeah, I gotta get going. I just haven’t gotten used to this view.”

  “Wait until you see your own work up on the Jumbotron. You’ll never want to go home then.” The woman clasped her on the shoulder and then walked away. Nic did look forward to that day, but not out of any sense of pride in her own sales prowess. Her work now held more appeal than personal accomplishment and more importance than the joy she got from working in a ballpark, even though baseball had been one of the first things she’d learned she really enjoyed. She liked coming to work in the mornings now because her work had meaning. She was still in sales, but instead of making money for a multinational corporation, she solicited sponsors for the Braves’ charitable foundation. Her first assignment was to find businesses to pledge a specific amount for every double play the Braves would make over the course of the upcoming season.

  She smiled even as she jogged through the rain-soaked parking lot to catch her bus. She was running late, but it wouldn’t do any good to hurry. Speeding wasn’t an option when someone else was driving. No more Lexus. She didn’t even have a driver’s license since she’d pled guilty to a DUI, and yet instead of feeling embarrassed or dependent, she felt incredibly grateful to be alive.

  Of course the fear and the doubt could still overwhelm her, especially alone late at night. She awoke sometimes in a cold sweat, running from some phantom pressure to perform, to push harder, to succeed, but with the help of her therapist she was learning to work through the urge to produce answers out of the darkness. She had a second chance to decide who she was, and she wouldn’t rush into the same mistakes. Patience was a big step. Admitting she was lost helped, too, and learning to ask for help was probably the most important yet.

  She wouldn’t learn any of those lessons overnight, but for once in her life she felt proud of the process and not just the results.

  Stepping off the bus downtown, she splashed through a frigid puddle and gritted her teeth against the bite of cold that soaked through her shoes and socks. So maybe everything about her new life wasn’t perfect. She would’ve rather been warm and dry back at work, or even at her new apartment closer to the ballpark, instead of tromping around the back of a church to the basement entrance. Her stomach rumbled as she passed a tray of pastries and a pot of coffee near the door, too, but she kept walking. This was an important meeting, one she needed to be at her best for, and she wasn’t going to fill her body with caffeine or sugar to get through it.

  Nic nodded to the few people around the long conference-style table, but she didn’t talk. She didn’t need to schmooze or fill the space with empty chatter. She tried not to tap her toe or fidget nervously as she watched the clock hand tick closer to starting time. It wasn’t a boardroom, but she felt like this might be the most important meeting she’d ever attended.

  At six o’clock sharp, a woman called the meeting to order. As they went around the table to introduce themselves, Nic tried to remain present, but she couldn’t stop herself from glancing toward the door. She tried to tamp down her disappointment when her turn to speak rolled around. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to do this alone.

  “Nic, do you have something you want to say tonight?”

  “Yeah, um, I mean yes, I do. I’m Nic McCoy.” The next words stuck in her throat, so she paused and stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to hide their trembling. She looked up to try again just as the door opened and Annabelle pushed through, shaking the rain from her long blond hair. Davis followed closely behind, muttering an apology for being late and tracking mud onto the clean linoleum.

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you made it,” Nic said with a broad smile, her joy tempered only by a twinge of sadness at the look of tenderness Annabelle directed toward Davis as she took her coat. She was happy for them and proud of them too, but the reminder of what she’d lost only underscored the gravity
of what she had to say.

  She looked into Annabelle’s blue eyes full of sympathy and Davis’s stoic expression for strength. These women had been through fire by no choice of their own, and she had no right to ask their forgiveness, but their growth and courage had inspired her to try.

  “I was saying that I’m Nic McCoy, and I’m an addict.”

  *

  Davis listened closely as Nic stated she’d been sober and had abstained from sex for ninety-three days before Nic began to share the story of her downward spiral.

  She hadn’t yet fully warmed to the idea of playing any sort of role in Nic’s recovery. She wanted to move forward, and with a woman like Anna by her side, who wouldn’t? She understood helping Nic get the medical treatment she needed, but once she could walk again, the legal trouble had started. She had been slightly impressed when Nic had taken full responsibility for her actions and had pled guilty to the slew of charges against her. Davis grudgingly admitted the Nic she’d known would’ve tried and probably succeeded in talking her way out of trouble. Anna had gone to the court date, but Davis had stayed away. She’d also stayed home the night Nic cleared out her office at her old job and the day she’d moved into her new apartment.

  Annabelle, on the other hand, marked each occasion with a helping hand and a kind word. It wasn’t easy at first to watch her go or to hear the pride in her voice when she told of Nic’s latest accomplishment. At times the only thing that had kept her from dissolving into a brooding mass of insecurities was the way Anna always seemed to know when she needed to be reassured with a kiss or a touch. As if on cue, Anna took her hand as Nic approached the portion of her story when she and Davis had met.

  “I spent so much time telling myself both women needed me and I could make them happy, even that I loved them both.” Nic sighed, and her voice quavered. “The more I lied, the more I believed myself. I feel sick now because I think, in a way, I did love them both, but not the way either of them deserved. I loved them for what they offered me, which wasn’t really loving them. It was always about me. I had to prove myself. I couldn’t stand to lose, even something that made me happy. Hell, I didn’t even know what happiness really was.”