He smiled warmly at me. “Yes, I have food. Would you like me to make you something?”
I shook my head. “No. You go to bed and I’ll come join you in a bit. Besides, you said I should make myself at home.”
“Okay, but don’t be too long. I may have a second wind.” I rolled my eyes at him while climbing out of the tub. He reached out to me, standing up, then wrapping me to his side. He kissed me once more, his eyes again clouded with exhaustion and another emotion I couldn’t decipher.
I hoped for love. I would give anything for him to look at me with love, but I didn’t know if he could. Because I had understood finally what it meant to love someone and I could say without any hesitation I never loved Jake. Still, Derek had loved Emily, loved her in the same intense way I was feeling. How could he love me too? Because I sure couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way about anyone else. In all honesty, I had a nothingness inside of me for so long, I was surprised how easily love snuck inside and expanded.
Despite my certainty of how much he loved Emily, his mother’s words were not to be forgotten. She had said their relationship wasn’t as perfect as I thought. But that went against everything Derek had told me as D. D said he wasn’t even sure he could live without her. That type of proclamation seemed unlikely if they weren’t madly in love.
After drying me off with a towel, Derek slipped on his boxers with a sleepy smile. “The kitchen is…”
I held up a hand to stop him. “You’re not supposed to tell me. I’m going to wander around, check everything out since you won’t give me an official tour.”
“Okay,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Good night in case I’m asleep when you come back up.”
While he slipped into his oversized bed, I tiptoed out into the hallway. Derek’s home was large, but nothing like the mansion I grew up in. The Carmichael estate was vast enough that months could go by without me setting foot in certain rooms. After the wedding, Jake and I were to move into one of the three ostentatious guesthouses on the property.
As I explored the downstairs, I liked Derek’s house. The architecture reminded me of the American Craftsman style with an open floor plan and exposed beams. In his office, he had several built-in wooden bookcases along with a bay window overlooking the tree-laden backyard. The library books looked well-loved and I knew they weren’t there just for show like the ones at my parents’ home. Each of The Dark Colony books were mounted on the wall along with awards he had won for his writing. All of the paint colors were neutral with furniture pieces crafted from dark woods.
Leaving the office and walking down the hallway, I scrutinized the framed wall art. Each piece were enlarged book quotes from authors that included Tolkien, Dahl, and Capote. I laughed to myself as I imagined adding one to his collection from The Metamorphosis: “He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.” Only Derek would appreciate my gallows humor.
Slipping into the kitchen, I did an inventory of what Derek constituted as food. We didn’t share the same dietary tastes. He leaned to healthier foods, while my fridge was full of single frozen food dinners. He had a few food quirks, notably a fridge with way too much Red Bull and eggs. The pantry foods weren’t appetizing either. He was a fan of protein bars and shakes. Since he had an erratic schedule, I assumed he liked to have quick snacks ready while writing. Finally, I found a lone bag of chips and coupled it with a Red Bull. I was still hyper from being sexed up by Derek, so the Red Bull would probably end up keeping me awake most of the night.
I wandered further around the downstairs, taking everything in. His furniture was tasteful, but simple. Like his office, the living room and dining room had pieces crafted from a rich mahogany. His place was meticulously clean, but he was only one person living there, so I imagined the mess was minimal.
I took a satisfying sip of the Red Bull as I moved to the den, which connected to a sunroom off of the back. Switching on the light, I stopped to survey everything, noting this was the first room decorated with photographs. Pictures were hung on the wall along with framed images on the shelves. My heart thudded as I moved closer, realizing who was in all the photos. Emily. Emily was everywhere.
There were at least half a dozen photos on the wall and another handful on the shelves of her. But the pictures weren’t just of her, they were snapshots of her and Derek. Essentially, I was looking at a shrine to their relationship. Derek and Emily together in front of a Christmas tree. Derek and Emily on vacation sipping from coconut cups. Derek and Emily with his parents in front of Big Ben. And then there was just Emily, Emily smiling coyly at the camera as if she knew the person behind it loved her beyond reason. There were only two non-Emily photos: a picture of Derek at his college graduation with his parents and another shot of him with a couple of friends attending a Giants football game.
I felt sick, realizing how I couldn’t push her out of our relationship. She was here right with me all along, making me wonder a hundred things at once. I thought of her life before she died, probably spending time in Derek’s house with him. I thought about all the memories they had made together in this space. Online I had found out she was an interior designer, which meant she likely decorated the house after he purchased it a few years back. Her touch was probably everywhere.
Worse yet, had she lived there? I read she was most likely abducted from her apartment’s parking lot, but had she been in the process of making this her home too? Hadn’t Derek insinuated the very thing when we went to the beach together? The house was where he pictured a family with Emily.
Was I going back upstairs to lie down in the bed she shared with Derek? I understood people had exes. I had probably slept with Jake in the same bed where he had brought dozens of women who he was also screwing. But it was different because Emily wasn’t an ex. Emily was dead. Emily was the woman who inspired my boyfriend to write the words: I don’t know how to do this without you anymore.
All of a sudden, I wanted to leave. I wanted to go back to my apartment, my space that was free of any memories. A home where I didn’t have to stare in horror at photos of the man I loved with the woman he was still in love with.
However, on closer inspection of the photos, Derek didn’t look like the man I loved. Not only did he look younger, but he seemed softer, less cynical, less hardened by life. Trauma hadn’t touched him yet, so he still had an innocent look about him, reminding me of a wide-eyed optimist. And Emily was just as beautiful in every look. No bad angle for her. Her blue eyes were smoky and mysterious, her blond hair sparkled like spun gold, and her skin looked as smooth as silk. They looked stunning together, like darkness and light, finally coming together in perfect harmony.
But his mother had made me feel like I didn’t know the whole story. That maybe the pictures didn’t explain everything. A few of her remarks had left me more confused than ever. Why had she asked me if Derek had talked about the police investigation? Why had she acted sad over Emily’s death, but not happy over the thought Derek hadn’t moved on? It was like she had too much class to speak about the murder, but I also got the sense she wasn’t thrilled Derek still sought out answers.
“Hey.” I jumped at Derek’s voice behind me, stunned I hadn’t heard him come into the den. I was startled enough to drop the Red Bull, the liquid fizzing over the wood floors.
“Damn it,” I cursed, bending down swiftly to pick up the can. After uprighting the drink, I rushed by him without meeting his eyes. “I’ll grab paper towels from the kitchen.”
“Alyssa, don’t worry about it.” He was calling after me, but I ignored him, hastily running to get far away from him for a minute. Getting away from her too. My face was burning, embarrassed he caught me staring at his pictures of Emily. I felt more naked than ever in front of him, like he had found me reading his diary.
I bundled up paper towels in my hand before returning to the den. Derek hadn’t moved, but I still didn’t meet his eyes. I knelt down in front of him, seeing only his bare legs as I sopped up the spilled drink with the paper towe
ls. “Alyssa—”
I would do anything to avoid talking about her at the moment. I cut him off before he could finish saying my name. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I couldn’t. I was waiting for you to come up. I was checking if you found something to eat.” I tried to not analyze his inflection, needing my brain turned off for a beat. But I noted the strain, heard the discomfort.
“Great, I’ll come up then,” I said, forcing a perky tone. I handed him the paper towels, not knowing where he kept his garbage. “Do you mind throwing these out? I’ll see you upstairs in a second.”
Before he could protest, I was gone. Rushing upstairs, hurrying into the bedroom, I then grabbed at the TV remote on his nightstand. After climbing into the bed, I turned on the big screen set. I was scrolling through the channels as he walked silently into the bedroom. I still wouldn’t look him in the face as I spoke, addressing his bare chest instead. “You only had Red Bull to drink, so I’m still wired. Is it okay if I watch TV?”
When he didn’t reply, I tracked him out of the corner of my eye as he walked across the front of the bed, before climbing in next to me. I settled on a channel, turning the volume up to hopefully dissuade him from any talking. I babbled, completely discomfited with the entire situation. I really, really want to go home. “Wow, look, The Faculty is on. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but it’s probably my favorite sci-fi movie ever. Aliens possess all of these teachers at a high school before taking over the town.”
I pretended to look engrossed, although my head was a million miles away. He said next to me, “Alyssa, you’re not comfortable.”
I gave him a sideways look. “Of course, I am.” I sounded completely fake. “Your bed is huge, very comfortable too. I can never seem to find the right mattress that I like. Plus, you have the softest cotton sheets ever. My parents always purchased silk, which although looks nice, is not cozy to sleep in at all.” I sounded like an idiot; I wasn’t even sure what I was talking about. I tried to shut up and tune into the movie. Maybe he would put us both out of our misery and just fall asleep already.
Derek didn’t comply with my silent wishes. Instead, he picked the remote up off of the bed and muted the movie. “I mean you’re not comfortable here with me.”
I finally looked at him, trying to will him to believe me and just leave it the hell alone. “I’m fine. But I’m not tired, so I may end up keeping you up. Maybe I should go, so you actually get a good night’s sleep.”
He looked really bothered over the idea, instinctively knowing my desire to leave had nothing to do with being hyper. “I’m sorry, I’ll put the pictures away. I should’ve done it first before you came over.”
I swallowed back the sick feeling in my gut. “Oh god, please don’t take her pictures down.”
“But, Alyssa, they bothered you, I can tell—”
“Please, Derek, don’t take them down. That would make me feel worse. I swear.” It was true because I couldn’t bear the thought of him forcing himself to hide her pictures because of me. If he was ready to take them down that was one thing, but I wouldn’t be the one to make the decision for him. I took the remote back and turned the TV off. I lay down on the bed, moving on my side to turn away from him. “I’ll try to fall asleep. I’ll probably have a sugar crash from the Red Bull and pass out.”
His arm circled my waist before he pulled me flush to his body. I wished he hadn’t brought me into his arms because it was hard to remain upset when he was so close. When I could breathe him in and smell the Christmas tree scent that lured me in the first time we met. When I could feel his heat against my back. When his breath caressed my neck, sending gooseflesh all over my body. All of my senses talked my brain out of running.
“Alyssa, she’s not in here,” he whispered. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t find the right words to respond. “I don’t have pictures of her in here. Or in my office. Because those are the rooms for you—where I would talk to you and tell you everything about me. The rooms where I first heard your sweet voice and realized I had to know you. Where I would hope you’d agree to meet me because I had to have you in my life.”
I turned to face him. I couldn’t always allow her between us, invisibly working against our chance at happiness. “Okay,” I whispered back. “You have me, Derek. I understand she’ll always be part of you and I’ve accepted it. Your grief is your own and I’ll never tell you the right way to heal from it. I can be with you without needing you to let her go.”
“I don’t know why you were brought into my life, and I’m positive I don’t deserve you, but please don’t give up on me. I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly before kissing me, sealing his words with an unspoken promise.
God, I loved him. I loved him enough I’d sacrifice my own needs to be with him. And it wasn’t because I was still a doormat. It was because I truly believed I could heal him. I could chase away all the darkness, rid him of all the guilt and torment that kept him tied to her. In other words, I was a lovesick fool.
Chapter Seventeen
Derek and I fell into a routine over the next couple of weeks. He’d schedule his writing blocks while I worked my shifts at the diner. Later, he’d meet me at my apartment for dinner and then we would rarely leave the bed for the rest of the night. Sometimes, dinner was forgotten altogether, my desire for him burning through the day until he finally had his lips on mine.
Emily’s ghost made me wary to spend too much time at his house. I knew my insecurities would have free rein as I’d look into his den and see her pictures everywhere. His words had soothed me, but I couldn’t pretend she never existed. If I was honest, she was the reason Derek and I got together in the first place. I’d been drawn to his sorrow, so I couldn’t just expect him to set aside the grief he had been feeding for years.
He had told me once the words he wrote to her were done at his lowest moments. He would send out his hurt into the void as a way to free himself of the pain. He claimed those desolate times weren’t his always and I wanted to believe him. I hoped the times when we weren’t together didn’t give him time to let in that darkness. Or worse yet—allow himself to fill with regret.
Derek was attending a convention for a long weekend in Boston just as my classes for nursing school were going underway. I was nervous about going back to school; it was six years since I graduated with a degree I never used. My grades were always good, but my communications classes seemed less difficult than the nursing courses I’d take for my RN license.
Yet, something about being with Derek gave me more confidence. The sensation was weird because at first, I thought he was helping me boost only my body confidence. We couldn’t get enough of each other in bed, which curbed a lot of my inhibitions about my appearance. If someone like Derek couldn’t wait to see me naked, eagerly tearing off my clothes at every given opportunity, then why would I let someone like Jake continue to rule my psyche?
But Derek was making me feel good about myself in other ways too. Like every self-doubt I’d been breeding since a child was vanishing. Derek understood my need to make my way through life on my own and accepted when I wouldn’t take his help. He wasn’t trying to buy my compliance. Instead, I understood his offering to pay for my tuition and books was just a way to show he cared about me. But taking any money from him would make me feel like my old self. Alyssa Carmichael could stay dead in my opinion.
In early September, I crammed a lot of studying in before inviting Jenny to come over for another girls’ night. We saw each other all the time at work, but unless we wanted commentary from the senior customers about our love lives, we decided to get together away from the diner.
After I let her inside, she held up a couple of bottles of red wine. “I’m broke this week, so I hope two buck chuck works for you, heiress,” she joked as she came into the apartment.
“I have no idea what’s two buck chuck, but I was never a wine snob. My parents were, though, and had a sommelier for their parties.”
�
�See, now I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m thinking you’ll teach me about being rich so when I land my next husband, I’ll fit in. And I’m teaching you about being broke and getting drunk while spending less than the cost of a Happy Meal.”
I laughed, while she set aside her jacket on the kitchen chair. The summer was officially over with the weather cooling to the seventies by the evening.
Jenny sniffed dramatically. “Smells like sin in here.”
I shook my head. “You’re so full of it. I cleaned after finishing my homework today.”
“I’m surprised you had time to do anything with all the sex you’re obviously having. You’ve become even a worse waitress now that you’re in lust and I didn’t even think that was possible.”
I handed her a wine glass as I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not that bad.”
“Ahmed seemed ready to quit yesterday after you gave him the wrong special numbers for table two.”
I cringed at the memory. She was right, Ahmed was livid. I tilted my head as I considered the last week at work. Ahmed had been testy with me, but he normally screamed at Jenny and me equally. My mouth opened in surprise as I realized that I’d been too preoccupied with Derek to realize what was right in front of me. “You’re sleeping with Ahmed!”
She smiled coyly. “Maybe.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re dating a rich and famous hottie. Screwing the diner cook seems kind of boring in comparison.”
“Boring? Of course not. I’m dying to know what he’s like outside of the diner. I literally know nothing about him. The one time I tried to ask him a personal question, he told me if I didn’t get those eggs out to Mr. Byrd, I’d be wearing them in the next five seconds.”
Jenny giggled. “So what? He’s passionate about his work. And let me tell you, he’s pretty damn passionate in other ways too. I could barely walk this week, if you catch my drift.”
The Despair of Strangers Page 19