Forever Touched

by Lilly Wilde

  “Looks like you have it all together to me, sis.”

  “You little bitch. If I were to have sat you down and told you every bit of what I’d gone through—what I’m still going through, you’d take all of that back. Yeah, my life appears to be everything anyone could ever want, but I had to fight every step of the way to get here. And now I’m fighting even harder to hold on to it. So while you’re sitting there throwing your pity party, why don’t you stop pointing fingers and start fighting, too? We all suffered Bianca. All of us.”

  *****

  I’d left lunch with Bianca rather abruptly. We didn’t finish our talk and now there was even more to iron out with her. But I wasn’t able to do it over lunch. I’d been too enraged by her accusations. If she was being that confrontational with Lia, I could see why she’d run for the hills.

  And what was that guilt trip she’d tossed on me about leaving Dayton? Had that stemmed from her true issue? That she was missing our mother? What if I were to tell her that Mom and Dad were alive? Would that make her feel better—or would it make her feel even more cheated? As badly as I wanted to tell her the truth, I knew I couldn’t. For one, she wasn’t mature enough to maintain the information—her outburst today had shown that. And secondly, and most important, it was too much of a risk. I couldn’t do anything that could place a spotlight on our parents. It wasn’t safe.

  “Your sister is here to see you.” Andrea’s voice sounded through the intercom.

  “Send her in,” I replied. Lia hadn’t said she was stopping by. Had Bianca called her?

  My office door opened and in stepped the twin I hadn’t expected.

  “I’m very busy, Bianca. I don’t have the time to continue tossing blame around.”

  She didn’t move. Instead her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry, Aria.”

  I exhaled a sigh and stepped around my desk. “Close the door and let’s have a seat.” I passed a glass of water to her and joined her on the small couch. “You really don’t need to apologize. You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know or feel myself. There were times when I wondered how you and Lia had been able to bounce back so quickly after losing Mom, and now I see I was foolish to think you had.”

  Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I went to my desk for a tissue, passing it to her. I pulled her into a hug, holding her until she was calm.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean those things.”

  “On some level, you probably did. I know I didn’t make the right choices. And as for you not wanting to be like me… there have been many times in my life that I wished I wasn’t me. But you know what? I don’t feel that way anymore. And I’m proud of who I’ve become. I have scars—quite a few of them actually—but each one tells a story. And each one has made me stronger. And I think those scars are what led me to Aiden. I know you don’t really get him at times, and I understand that. But he does something for me that I can’t explain. He sees beyond my scars and my bravado. He sees the little girl who grew up in Dayton. He sees her heart and he enables her to pull that side of herself to the surface. And you know what? Despite it all, I feel like the luckiest woman in the world … to be loved by him.”

  “Even now? With the—”

  “Yes, even now.”

  My mini-speech muted our conversation. I wasn’t sure where all that had come from, but I think I needed to say it just as much as she needed to hear it. I’d been discouraged lately, and articulating my feelings reminded me of why I was still happy that I’d married Aiden.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Bianca said, interrupting our silence.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Okay. Good. Because I love you, Aria. And I love Aiden. He’s always been so great.”

  “But …” I said, urging her to continue.

  “I think I kind of resent him a little.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he gets all of you. He gets to have a family with you.”

  “Oh, Bianca. You’re part of that family, too.” I grasped her hands, pulling them into mine. “And if I’ve somehow failed to make you feel that way, that’s on me. I didn’t want to push too much. Trust me—I wanted to be a lot deeper in the mix than I was. I was trying to respect the fact that you wanted your freedom. But now I realize, you’re probably like every other teenager. You want both.”

  “You’ve been great, Aria. Seriously. Part of this is me and my own crap that I need to deal with. And I feel horrible about what I said earlier. I want you to know I’m proud of your accomplishments. I’m proud to call you my sister. I mean, you’ve done so much on your own. You’re very successful and it’s great that you did all of it without having someone there to spoon feed it to you. I can only hope to be as awesome as you are one day.”

  “But earlier you said—”

  “I know. I know. I know. But I’m trying to explain that.”

  “Okay.”

  “You wouldn’t let anyone in,” she said. “Family, friends … men.”

  “That was then, Bianca, and when I was doing that, I really thought it was the best for me. Looking back, I know I went about that all wrong.”

  “When it came to guys, you gave what you wanted to give,” she said. “And for you, that was your body. But me—I want to give my heart.”

  “Is that what you meant earlier when you said you didn’t want to be like me?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  During one of my missions to connect with my sisters, I’d shared with them some of the details of the years we’d missed together. As soon as I’d told them about my sex life, I’d wished I hadn’t. I immediately regretted it. And now even more so.

  “I know how that sounds,” she said.

  “Bianca, I may have given you the wrong impression. When I first started the thing with detached sex … it wasn’t something I’d planned. I didn’t know much about guys or relationships, but I knew enough to say I didn’t want either … because of Dad and all.”

  “You don’t have to go into any of that,” she said. “I know how much that hurts you. Lia and I were so young when he left; we didn’t have the connection with him that you did.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “I’d like to share something with you … about my past.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Okay.”

  “It was the start of my junior year at Boston State, and I’d met this guy. And there was this girl, Olivia. She and I had been paired up to give a speech in my communications class. We were in her room one night working on our presentation when her cousin, Brad, stopped by. I’d seen him with her a couple of times and she’d introduced us. We flirted here and there, and that was about it. I really wasn’t interested, because as I’d said, I didn’t want to get caught up with a guy in any capacity. One night, April and I were at this frat party, and Brad was there. We were all drinking, of course, and things got out of control. It was … crazy. Anyway, without getting into all of the particulars … Brad and I ended up in bed.”

  “You two …?”

  “We had sex. And I woke up the next morning in a strange bed … alone. He was nowhere to be found. So I got dressed and commenced the walk of shame and headed back to my room. I didn’t have Brad’s number or anything, and as far as I knew, he didn’t have mine. A week or so passed before I saw him again, and when I did, it was if he and I had never met, let alone had sex. He was busy trying to get into the next girl’s panties. That was all he wanted … but I guess that’s true of most college guys, right? Anyway, that’s when I realized, or told myself, rather, that men were all about getting what they wanted. The other party didn’t matter, which of course, reminded me of Dad. So that was the day I’d told myself that I could play the game as well as any guy—maybe even better. I’d be the one to call the shots. I’d be the one to skip out while the guy was sleeping. I’d be the one to never ask for a phone number.”

  “That’s what you did throughout college?” she asked, her eye
s studying me.

  I felt as though her gaze was one of judgment. She probably thought I was some unfeeling bitch. And to be honest—at one time, I was. “No. Of course not. After Brad, I decided I didn’t want any distractions. I wanted to complete my degree and start my life, so that’s where my focus remained.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that,” she said, with a sympathetic smile. “Guys can be real jerks.”

  I thought of Aiden. “True. But that incident with Brad is what helped shape me. Our life experiences shape who we become. And that experience, coupled with Mom and Dad, was enough for me. It led me to become someone I shouldn’t have been, but it also allowed me to better appreciate who I am now.”

  She leaned forward, curiosity flickering in her amber eyes. “So, when did the sex come into play?”

  “About that … it wasn’t as if I were some whore who fucked every chance I had. It was a once or twice a year thing, and there weren’t many years of that … maybe four or five. I enjoyed sex, but I didn’t want to give it to a man because he wanted it. I wanted to do it because I wanted it. And that’s what I did. I never had unprotected sex, and I never let anyone get closer than a night … until Aiden. From one sister to another, I’ll tell you something else I probably shouldn’t, but here it goes … most of my pleasure for years involved sex toys.”

  Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, it’s not really a socially acceptable topic of conversation,” I said with a laugh.

  “So … Aiden came along,” she said. “What made you change the rules?”

  “I didn’t. He made me ignore them, I guess. He was different. He was very confident and commanding. Challenging. He didn’t go for my usual tricks. He flipped the script. I was always scrambling to stay on my toes with him. And he would say things and do things that kept me on guard. And he always went too far with me, and I’d never had that before. It drew me to him. It still does.”

  “So he made you …”

  “He made me feel vulnerable again. He observed me … much too closely. He took the time to figure me out. And the more I pushed him away, the deeper he probed. He saw what I was doing and why, and he refused to let me continue doing it.”

  “So … what are you saying?” she asked.

  “Don’t close yourself off to possibilities. I’m not saying you should have sex with Landon. But I think you should have a really serious talk with him.”

  She looked down at her fingers twisting in her lap.

  “Would you like for me to talk to Landon for you?” I asked.

  “No. I don’t need my big sister to talk my ex into getting back with me.”

  “So you do want him back, then?”

  “Yeah. I guess,” she murmured, with a half-smile.

  I gave her a look questioning her lack of enthusiasm.

  “Okay, yes. I want him back.”

  “Then tell him. Fight for him.”

  “I’m not about to chase after him, Aria.”

  “I wouldn’t do that either,” I scoffed. “That’s not what I meant. I’m simply saying you need to own up to your feelings and handle this like an adult. Make yourself proud. I’m sure you’re not very proud of your recent behavior.”

  She let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’m not, and Lia is pissed at me.”

  “Call her,” I urged.

  Bianca’s face fell into a frown. “I tried. She won’t answer. I even texted, but nothing.”

  “I have a meeting in a few, but come over for dinner tonight. As a matter of fact, pack a bag. Stay overnight. We’ll have a slumber party … the Costanzo sisters.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  “And you and Lia can fix the rift between you. You owe her an apology.”

  “I know.”

  “Take it from someone who’s lived it,” I said. “You don’t want to break away from what little family you have, especially someone as significant as your twin sister.”

  “I’ll make things right. I promise. And Aria?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ve always gone by Cason, but just now, you referred to yourself as Costanzo. That’s odd.”

  “Not really. It’s who I am. And I don’t feel the need to run from that anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Surprised by Bianca’s attention to the use of my father’s surname, I reminded myself to be more careful. Of course, she would in no way connect my slip-up to the truth, but I couldn’t chance anything if it meant protecting my parents. I wish I could talk to my sisters … tell them about Mom and Dad. Or at least tell them of my unconfirmed suspicions about their whereabouts, but I couldn’t. Although it was unlikely, I still held out hope that maybe someday I could.

  After work, I went home and made a beeline to my bedroom. I couldn’t talk to my mother, but I could revisit her last communication to me. Pulling the envelope from the box, I took a seat on the chair in the closet. I read her letter over and over, trying to imagine how it would have played out in an actual conversation with her.

  Wiping my tears, I placed the letter back inside the envelope and slid it into my purse. I then added a reminder on my phone to have it framed. I wouldn’t display it, it would remain in my box, but if I continued reading it, it was highly probable that it wouldn’t withstand my tears.

  Going back to Mom’s words. Sensing the absoluteness of her conviction. It gave me the courage I needed to face the next loop of the rollercoaster my life had become. Her words gave me strength. They gave me hope in a situation where, at times, I didn’t have very much of it.

  At the suggestion of Dr. Burgess, I’d started yoga as a means of self-soothing. I hadn’t held out much hope that it would be effective, but I’d found it to be almost as relaxing as the glass of wine I typically enjoyed after dinner. I’d joined a class at BK Centre Yoga, a studio near Raine Publishing. It was mostly composed of business professionals like me, looking for ways to cope. When one of the ladies recognized me as Aiden’s wife, I’d started to think I would be better off in private sessions. Surprisingly enough, though, after the initial shock wore off, she treated me like a normal person; she went as far as inviting me to join her at the smoothie bar. My work schedule forced me to decline her offer, but I promised to join her after class the following week.

  *****

  “This was just delivered,” Tristan said, passing a box to me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Not sure. The messenger said it was urgent and for your eyes only.”

  Opening the package, I found a query letter along with a manuscript. “Looks like we have an extremely tenacious writer on our hands.”

  “Why do you say that?” Tristan asked.

  “This person went to the trouble of sending it to my home address … by messenger. That’s never happened before, and quite frankly, it’s a bit disconcerting.” I shook my head and dropped the items back into the box. “Get this to Raina,” I said.

  Tristan lifted the bound of papers from the box. “Interesting title, though. Don’t you think?”

  I glanced at the cover page and froze.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “On second thought, leave it with me.” The book’s title did a bit more than catch my eye. It freaked me out. Ti Amo Per Sempre.

  “Are you sure?” Tristan asked.

  “Yes. I’d like to take a look at it. Why don’t you take the remainder of the day off?”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  I pulled my attention from the elegantly scripted title. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Go. Enjoy your afternoon.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he said, his brows drawn in confusion as he turned away.

  I was confused myself. What were the odds of my receiving a book with that title? A book that was delivered to my home? One that was meant for my eyes only? I reached for the manuscript just as Dianna stepped into my office with Lyric.

  “I think this little guy wants some time with his Mo
mmy,” she said.

  Looking up from the book, I placed it on the desk and reached for my son.

  “Does someone miss his mommy?” I asked, tickling his stomach.

  Lyric giggled.

  “Tristan says you’re done for the day. I was just about to feed the baby. Would you like to?”

  “I sure would,” I said, kissing Lyric.

  Every day without Aiden became a little less bright. But Lyric was the precious part of each day that made everything else almost bearable. I stood and followed Dianna out the room. Before I crossed the threshold, my gaze traveled to the lone manuscript on the desk.

  Was it really a coincidence, or was my mind connecting dots that weren’t supposed to be there?

  *****

  I’d thought the yoga was helping, but when you’re drowning in loneliness and confusion for the better part of everyday, there was only so much an hour of yoga could do to ward it off. I was sleeping, but I awoke every morning dead tired. My appetite fluctuated throughout the course of each day. I was headed toward the fifth consecutive day of dragging. I was so tired that even breathing felt exhausting. I needed something to help me sleep or at the very least, something to counter the anxiety. I’d tried tea, hot toddies, and something over the counter, but none of it helped. Finally giving up on home remedies, I called Dr. Grist’s office. I was scheduled for an annual in a few weeks, but I was hoping they could squeeze me in sooner. Dr. Grist was unavailable until the following week. I’d be dead by then. Not wanting to wait, I settled for option number two, an appointment with Heather Schlawn, the physician assistant. She’d had a cancellation for tomorrow afternoon, and since I was to the point where I didn’t care who saw me, I took it.

  The following day at the doctor’s office, I explained what had been going on and that I thought I needed something for insomnia or anxiety. Possibly both.

  “Let’s get your physical exam out of the way, run some tests and make sure there’s nothing else going on before we prescribe anything,” said Heather.

  “Sure. Whatever we need to do. I’m to the point of passing out. I can barely keep my eyes open,” I said.