by Abbi Cook
"At least if I find her I’ll know what happened to make her run away without a word to anyone. I can't continue to have people in my life leave without at least feeling like I tried to know them, and I want to start with Lauren."
There's no point in living in the past. I know that. I also know that my therapist likely wonders why I don't want to investigate who Adam truly was instead of Lauren. I don't want to say it out loud, but here's the truth. Adam abused me and kept me in the dark for reasons that only benefitted him. Fine. That's where I'll stay. My sister suffered in silence before she left my life for some reason only she truly knew. Out of the two of them, only she deserves to have someone try to uncover what her life was.
As for finding out she isn't the good person I believe she is, I'm not worried about that. She is who she is, whatever that may be. What’s important is she felt like she had no one to turn to, including me.
I want to know the answer to why.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Alexei
My gaze never wavers from the door where Natalie will walk out when she finishes her therapist appointment. I’ve texted and called to no avail. So I wait for her like before.
Before I killed the man who hired me to kill her.
I know if I can talk to her that she’ll understand. She has to. I can’t work. I can’t focus. I can’t think of anything but her since we talked last.
Fuck. I’ve become one of those men who’s lost his mind over a woman. People are now probably looking at me and mumbling to themselves that love must be fucking grand if it makes someone so goddamned miserable.
I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I just need to talk to her. She just needs to listen to me.
Natalie walks out onto the sidewalk looking more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her before. Her warm brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that makes her look sweeter than usual, and the pink sundress she wears makes her skin look tan and glowing. I want to take her into my arms and sweep her away to somewhere far from this street, this city, and everything that haunts us here.
Behind her, I watch how she seems to speed up at first when I catch up to her but then slows down, like she doesn’t want to run away from us. I catch a hint of the scent of her shampoo when a tiny gust of wind breaks the heat of the day, and for a moment, I’m transported back to that first time we met in that antique store.
Then I was the hunter and she was the prey. Now, even though I walk behind her prepared to take her to the apartment, there’s no denying her power over me.
Ain’t love fucking grand?
“I know you’re there, Alexei.”
The sound of her voice makes my heart skip a beat. Catching up to her, I whisper, “Come to the apartment with me.”
She’s silent, refusing to answer me, but I’ll force her, if I have to. I need to talk to her. She needs to hear how much I’ve missed her.
At the corner, she stops and looks over at me. “If I don’t go willingly, will you take me like you did that first time?”
“Yes.”
“What if I fight?” she asks, leveling her gaze full of challenge on me.
I don’t know where this side of her has come from, but if she thinks it’s turning me off, she’s dead wrong. I like her innocence, but I love her strength more.
“Then everyone on this corner is going to get a show, but you will be going to the apartment. I’ll let you decide if you want to make it hard or easy on the both of us.”
She won’t cause a scene. Even if she has sloughed off that country club demeanor she had to wear for so many years, she isn’t the type to want people staring at her.
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t do this,” she mumbles as the light turns green and we step off the curb.
“If you really loved me, you’d know why I have to,” I answer, not believing either of us love the other any less because of what happened.
We walk silently to the apartment building, no force needed for her to join me. She doesn’t pull away when I take her hand as we wait for the elevator, and just the feel of her warm skin against mine makes it hard not to take her into my arms and kiss her.
When the doors close, I move in front of her and cradle her face. She looks up at me wide-eyed, which makes me want her even more.
“What would people think of you kissing a woman whose husband just died?”
Leaning in, I press my lips to hers in a kiss I’ve craved for days. She doesn’t pull away, and I revel in the feel of her mouth surrendering to me.
“I don’t give a fuck what people think of me kissing you, little bird.”
She hangs her head and reaches out for my hand to hold it again when the doors open and we walk to that spot in the world that can never be anything but our place. No matter what happens, it’s the place where we became us.
“Did you do it for me?”
Her words come out so quietly I barely hear them, but I’ve been anticipating this question since that night. She knows the answer, or she thinks she does, but she needs to hear me say it.
I kiss her cheek where the nastiest bruise still lingers and nod. “Of course.”
“Why? He would have probably been happy to divorce me, especially once his girlfriend got pregnant and gave him what he wanted.”
Christ, she really is innocent.
“I killed him because he hurt the woman I love. My woman.”
Natalie covers her face and sighs. “I can’t stand that he died because of me.”
Pulling her to me, I wrap my arms around her and love how she feels against my body. “He died because of him, little bird. Don’t get it confused.”
“Are we going to be cursed because this is how we got to be together?” she asks quietly against my chest.
“I don’t think so. We technically got together because he hired me to kill you.”
My answer doesn’t make her happy. I see on her face when she looks up at me that she still can’t deal with that basic truth that set all of this in motion.
Her husband wanted her dead, so he sought me out to do the deed. It’s simple and clear, yet she doesn’t want to accept it, even now.
“Why can’t you be a mechanic or an accountant?”
I hate to see the tears in her eyes as she asks me that. I wish I had another answer than the truth that could tide her over and make her happy. I just don’t.
“I’m not great at fixing cars, and I leave the counting of money to people who love to sit in cubicles all day adding and subtracting numbers,” I answer with a smile.
Natalie hangs her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not right to ask why someone isn’t something else than what they are. You’ve never asked me why I’m not more glamorous or why I didn’t go to college, so I have no business asking you that question.”
God, I hate it when she’s sad, and I have nothing but sadder news to add to her unhappiness today. She has to know about her sister and what happened to her.
But how do I pile that on top of everything else she’s dealing with now?
Unable to find a way at this moment, I try to change the subject. “I was thinking that sometime soon when this is all done and over with that we should take a trip.”
She lifts her head and stares up at me in surprise. “A trip? Where?”
“You can choose, but I have an idea if you aren’t sure.”
“How far away can it be?” she asks, happiness filling her still watery eyes.
When she’s like this—sweet and eager about something—I can’t help but love her even more. “As far as you’d like. Where I was thinking of is pretty far away, to be honest, so the sky’s the limit.”
For the first time since we came here today, she smiles and it’s like the whole room suddenly lights up. “There are so many places I’d love to go, Alexei! Really, can it be anywhere?”
“Anywhere at all, little bird.”
A tiny hint of disappointment clouds her expression. “But I don’t have a passport. I nev
er got to go on those European trips like my sisters did, and I haven’t even left the state since I moved to Avalon.”
“Don’t worry about the passport. I’ll take care of that.”
Natalie narrows her eyes, like she knows it won’t be legally handled but she isn’t sure. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said. You need a passport, so I’ll get you a passport.”
Twisting her face into a grimace, she mumbles under her breath, “I really would like to go on a trip. How long does it take to get one the regular way?”
“Months and months.”
“Do you do anything legally?”
Only she can ask me that and genuinely want to know the answer.
So I tell her the truth. “I pay taxes every year like everyone else. Alexei Wolfe is an importer of fine china, so I pay taxes on that occupation. See, I’m not so different than anyone else.”
She runs her hands down over my chest and sighs. “Except you kill people for your real job.”
“Okay, that’s it. You either accept that I’m the hit man who your husband hired to kill you who then fell in love with you or you don’t, Natalie. I’ve already proven to you that I’d do anything to be with you. Now it’s your turn.”
With each word, I back up a little more from her until she’s far enough away that she can’t reach out for me anymore. The time has come. She either loves me or she doesn’t, but this won’t continue after today.
Hurt fills her eyes as she stares at me across the space I’ve created between us. “What do you mean? I love you. Why are you saying this?”
“Because you can’t accept who and what I am. That’s not going to change, Natalie. Whether you and I are together after today, I’ll still be what I’ve been all my adult life. You need to decide if you can live with that. If you can’t, then walk out that door and go back to the life you have now that you’re free. If you can, then I’ll move heaven and earth to make you the happiest woman in the world. You have to make your choice, though, because I won’t defend myself for the rest of my life. You choose.”
Shaking her head, she sobs, “Why are you saying these things to me now? I came here willingly because I missed you. Now you’re saying we can’t be together?”
“Not if you won’t accept what I am.”
It’s killing me inside to see her so sad. I promised myself I’d never do that to her like her husband did. But we can’t be together if she won’t accept who I am and that what I do in this world won’t change.
She takes a step forward but doesn’t give me her answer, so I step back away from her even as I wish I could take her in my arms. “What’s your choice, Natalie?”
“Why won’t you call me little bird now? It’s like you’re punishing me by taking away something I love. You keep calling me by my name. Stop!”
“Then make your choice. Either you understand that if we’re together, I’m still going to be who I’ve always been, or you’re willing to walk away from us. The choice is yours, Natalie. I’ve given you all the control here. Decide.”
She takes another step toward me, but this time I don’t move. But she needs to make her choice now.
“I do accept what you do. It’s just that it’s all new to me. A few months ago, I was simply a woman who thought she had a loving husband and wanted to give him the child he so desperately wanted. Now, he’s gone, I’ve found out that he hired people to kill me, and you don’t seem to understand how hard this is for me.”
Holding out my hand, I give her one last chance. “Then come to me and say it.”
Her lower lip quivers, like she’s about to break down and cry, but she stops herself and straightens her back, tilting her chin up. “I want you to say it first.”
“Say what?”
“Say what you know I want to hear first, and then I’ll give you what you want.”
I can’t help but smile at how good she is at manipulating me. She’s a far better negotiator than her idiot husband ever was. That’s for sure. Then again, I wasn’t crazy in love with him.
“Come to me, little bird. Come to me and tell me you accept what I am,” I say as I look into her beautiful blue eyes.
The darkness that cast a shadow over her for the past few minutes lifts, and she’s happy again as soon as I say my nickname for her. Stepping toward me, she takes hold of my hand and sighs in relief.
“I promise I’ll never say another word about what you do. Okay? I accept that you’re a hit man, but I don’t want to know anything about it. Can you live with that?”
Tugging her to me, I kiss her long and deep before whispering against her lips, “I can live with that, little bird.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Natalie
For the next week, I walk around in a haze. My mind drifts between funeral arrangements, police questioning, and the dulled dread that I was the cause of Adam's death. I know what Alexei said, but still I can’t help feel guilty.
Not much of life makes sense. I realize I knew so little of my husband that I don't know who to call about Adam's passing. I answer all the questions the funeral director asks me like I'm some spectator to a life I spent with my husband for all those years. Thankfully, the will he made out without telling me left specific instructions as to what he wished for his funeral, so I've simply been following that.
While I deal with saying goodbye to Adam, I have to speak to the police for their investigation. I keep telling them the same half-truth to protect Alexei. So much of the past few weeks have to remain hidden, and even if I could tell them any of it, would they really believe my husband, the dearly departed Adam Anchoff, actually took a hit out on me multiple times?
I barely believe it myself. If it wasn’t for the fact that I literally watched a man break into my home to kill me while the first killer stood in front of me asking to take me away from there to keep me safe, I’d think it was all one of my terrible nightmares or visions.
Five days after the first time they visited me to break the news that my husband had been found dead in his car in a place I suspect had to do with visiting the woman he was seeing on the side, I answer the phone to hear Officer Jenkins’ voice.
"Mrs. Anchoff?" he says like he doesn't believe I'm that person.
I know how he feels. In truth, I’m not that person anymore.
"Yes?"
"I'm calling to let you know that the medical examiner has finished his work. Your husband passed from natural causes. He had a heart attack. I'm very sorry for your loss."
I say the words a widow is supposed to say when she hears how her husband died, but all I can think of is how ironic it is that Adam died of a heart attack. In all my time with him, he'd been a healthy man who never let his heart get involved in any part of his life. Of all the organs to give out, the heart seems to be the strangest since he gave it so little attention.
Then another thought occurs to me. All this time, I’d believed Alexei had simply shot him like the other hit man planned to do to me that day. I had built up in my head some horrific scene full of blood and gore in Adam’s car and a look of horror on his face in that last moment.
I can’t help but wonder why Alexei did it this way instead. Was it to make sure there would be no question of my guilt in Adam’s death?
After that thought, the next is one of pure relief. The case is closed. Adam is gone, and the police know nothing about how it truly happened. The man I love won’t be punished for doing to Adam what he wanted done to me.
Gazing out my mother’s kitchen window, I watch a bird land on a branch as a final thought about Adam comes to me. Now, I must do one last thing as his wife and bury him.
On my way back to my mother's after the funeral, I stop at my house to pick up a few things. Three white greeting card envelopes hanging out of the mailbox tell me people have begun to hear about Adam's passing. I grab them and toss the envelopes onto the hallway table without reading any of the sentiments.
Just walking in feels
odd, like I don't belong here anymore. I don't understand how that can be. This was my home for six years, and now it feels foreign to me.
After grabbing some clothes out of my closet, I stop in front of Adam's and open the doors. I know I'm supposed to cry, but my eyes have no tears for him. I look at the dress shirts and pants hanging in front of me and can't help but be amazed at the fact that just over a week ago, he stood right where I am and chose what he wore that day. Now he's gone.
I think about all the times I saw him in the light grey dress shirt that hangs in the middle of the closet. His favorite shirt, he wore it at least once a week. I can't help but feel sad that I know that but didn't know much more about the man I was married to. Is it because of my problems with my memory, or did I never know him at all?
This isn't where I belong anymore. It was never truly my house anyway. Adam just let me live there with him. Now that he's gone, I need to go too.
There’s another home waiting for me. When enough time has passed, I’ll go to live with Alexei.
My mother welcomes me back to her house with open arms. She endured the funeral without shedding a tear, a fact that shocks me. I know she loved Adam, and he may have been her favorite son-in-law. Then again, she has experienced the loss of a husband before, and she's never been a particularly emotional soul. Blubbering in public over the death of anyone isn't Elizabeth Tarrigan's style. She calls it strength. I hope someday to say I possess that too.
Placing my bags on the floor near the closet in my old room, I sit down on the bed and close my eyes to revel in the silence. Even with four daughters, my mother's house has always been quiet, probably because it's so big.
At this moment, I love not hearing anything but the sound of my own breathing. It's relaxing and comforting at the same time. Inhale and exhale. Air in and air out.