by Dylan Allen
In the last one I sent, I asked her to send me a copy of the new Tom Clancy. This must be it.
I trace the outline of what is clearly a book through the envelope. I feel the impression of something else inside. My dessert after dinner rule is still in place, I make myself wait until I’ve opened the rest before I open that.
I open each bill. The only exciting piece of mail there is the letter from Baylor College of Medicine. My start date for the fellowship in Houston has been set. I glance at the calendar on my wall, and smile.
Only two more weeks. A year ago, I was sure that heading to Houston would feel like the end of an adventure. Now, I have Regan to look forward to. Just as I reach for her package, I hear the vibrating tell of my phone powering on. And then, the phone’s staccato vibrations turn into one long buzz as my messages start to download.
As a compromise, I walk over to the phone while I rip open the envelope.
I pull out the smaller item first. It’s a stack of notecards tied together with a delicate gold silk ribbon like something precious and cared for.
But even before I read the small note stocked into the top of the stack, I know that they are, in fact, the exact opposite of precious and cared for.
The handwriting on all of them is mine.
The sinking sensation seeps all the way to my bones. The sense of loss and doom infuses my marrow.
I wondered if she was getting them. At least now, I know.
I pull the book out of the envelope and the letters were also stuffed into and stare unseeingly at the worn edges of the dust cover.
With my heart thundering like the ominous rumble of thunder before a storm breaks, I open the messages on my phone.
Even in the swirl of all my confusion and panic, when I see her name pop up, I smile.
I start reading her texts. There are twenty-two of them.
The first one reads “I love you, too.”
The first twenty are a variation of “I love you” or “I miss you” or both.
The twenty first is a link that opens to a newspaper story. When I read it, I understand everything. Or at least I think I do. It was published two months ago, while I was busy pursuing an opportunity most doctors only dream of, she was waking up to this.
I don’t want to read her final message. I can’t imagine that whatever it says is going to do anything less than gut me. But I force myself to open it.
Stone,
I’m sorry that you came home from your trip to find that so much had changed.
By now, you’ve seen the news, and you know what’s happened. I’m sorry that my recklessness resulted in that picture being shared with the world. It has completely changed the landscape of my life, and I have got to focus on my children and myself. I won’t drag you into this. Nobody knows it’s you, and I want it to stay that way. Things are bad enough, without adding another log to this fire. When you’re back here, distance would be best. I’m so sorry. You deserve so much happiness, Stone, and I hope you find it. Thank you for taking me on the most glorious adventure I’ve ever known. I hope one day, we can find a way to be friends, again. We’re so very good at that.
Yours,
Regan.
No
Regan
My phone buzzes, and I reach to grab it from my bedside table. The sun isn’t up, but I’m wide awake. I knew he’d be back today, and I’ve been waiting on bated breath for his response to my texts and the package I sent last month.
As Stone’s date of arrival grew nearer, my longing only intensified, until it became an insatiable, tenacious growl of demand. One that robbed me of sleep. And one that I knew, if presented with opportunity for appeasement, would not be denied. I had to make sure he’d stay away, or at least not come too close.
I take a deep breath and compose myself before I open his text.
I got your letters and your text. And I understand why you feel that way. But I must, respectfully, say no. Because Venus, if I had the power to command blood and bone, mind and spirit, you are the very person I would have created. I told you I loved you. And I meant it. So, no fucking way am I moving on. I’ll see you soon.
Home
Stone
I step through the sliding automatic doors and inhale the warm petroleum-tinged air that is Houston’s calling card. I glance around until I see Tyson’s black Escalade down the row of cars. He sticks his hand out and waves, before the trunk flies open.
He offered to pick me up when I called to tell him I was coming home. I hoped it would be Regan. I’ve called her so many times that I’ve lost count.
She doesn’t answer her phone, and she’s only texted me back once to say, “I’m sorry.”
I’ve been caught between rage and despondency for the last two weeks.
I can’t eat.
I can’t think.
The only details I have are the few that Tyson’s given me. I don’t know what’s going on with her kids or her, and I hate that I’m just a bystander in a disaster I helped cause.
So, I’ve decided to tell him everything.
She’ll be pissed. But I can handle that. And I’m sick of lying to one of my best friends.
But, as I walk toward the car, my confidence that Tyson will understand and support me, flags. She’s his sister and her association with me has made her life exceedingly difficult.
He knows what kind of man I am. He’ll know that I wouldn’t dare move on his sister if I wasn’t serious. At least, I hope he does. If not, I hope he’ll give me a chance to explain before he goes off.
“Welcome back to Clutch City, Flintstone,” Tyson gives me a boisterous hug and a few hard slaps on the back that remind me how strong he is. They called him a pretty boy in college, and he killed himself in the gym to build his body enough that no one could mistake him for anything other than the badass he is.
“I see you’ve been slacking on your workouts without me around to kick your ass,” I tease him while he throws my suitcases in his trunk.
“Slacking? Man, are you nuts? If this line wasn’t so long, I’d race you down to that sign and back to show you what your eyes clearly can’t see.”
“Yeah, long line’s the reason,” I quip and pick up a box of Shipley’s donuts that’s sitting in my seat. The crumbs of sugar glaze from the dearly departed pastries cover every surface of his car.
“Man, you are a slob. I know you don’t drive women around in this heap,” I say as I look at the piles of empty water bottles, plastic bags, fast-food paper bags and books everywhere.
“This is my mobile office and I take the honeys out in my Aston Martin. And stop bitching and be glad I didn’t bring my Explorer.”
I make a show of dusting off my seat, before I sit down.
“So, where am I taking you?”
“Same place. Kirby and OST,” I buckle my seatbelt and turn the radio down.
“Aww, shit. I forgot you live in the cut. Now that you’re a doctor, doctor and not just a resident, you gotta move to a better neighborhood. Come to Rivers Wilde, man. The Ivy has everything, and we’ll be neighbors. And, now that your ass is legal, we can go cause mayhem. There’s this new strip joint off Montrose and, man… the pussy is outstanding. I am so glad to have a single friend in town. All my friends are being assholes and getting married. They don’t know about this bachelor life, right?” He slaps my shoulder and flashes a conspiratorial grin. It’s so much like Regan’s rare grins and it hits me square in the gut.
I clear my throat, uneasy and not sure that this is the right segue, but I decide to take it and tell him. “So,” I say and clear my throat.
His phone rings and his car announces, “Remi, calling”
He holds up a finger, hits the green button to answer it and says, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Yo, I was thinking we should cancel dinner at Reggie’s tonight.” At the mention of Regan, my whole body tenses.
“Why? It’s Friday. This is one the one home cooked meal I eat all week. Why is she cancelling?”
&
nbsp; “She’s not cancelling, I am. This is her last weekend in her house and she’s grieving a little. She loved it.”
“Why’s she moving?” I interject as casually as I can.
“Who’s in the car, Ty?” Remi’s voice drops a whole octave.
“Shit sorry, it’s Stone. I should have said.”
Remi’s silent for a beat. “Yeah, you should have,” he snaps. Then he softens his tone. “Stone, hey. I knew you were headed back. Didn’t realize it was today. You staying with Hayes?” he asks conversationally, but his voice is more guarded now that he knows I’m in the car.
“No, I kept my place in the medical center while I was gone, so I’m headed there.”
“Yo, damn I forgot!” Tyson slaps the steering wheel.
“What?” Remi and I ask at the same time.
“Stone was in Mexico when Reggie was. Maybe he saw the asshole in that picture.” Tyson’s hands tighten and twist on the steering wheel and his lip curls.
“Man, I fucking hope so,” Remi growls. “I want to kick his ass for hiding while my sister dangled on a hook all by herself.”
My stomach plummets to my toes. This doesn’t bode well.
“Hmmm…What did she say when you asked?” I ask trying to handicap my prospects.
“She says he’s some dude she met and had a fling with him...but that’s it.” Remi grumbles.
“Who was she with? Besides that chick.” Tyson asks.
“No one,” I answer flatly and turn my head to look out of the window. We’re flying down the airport service road and the scenery speeding by gives me an instant headache. My stomach roils. A stranger? She really expects me to go spend the rest of my life pretending that we don’t know each other. And I can’t breathe
“For real? Damn.” Tyson asks, disappointment clear in his voice.
“For real.” I spot a cluster of fast food restaurants and point. “Can we stop? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, and if we’re not going to Regan’s I’m going to get something, too.” He slams on his brakes and makes a squealing turn into the parking lot of the restaurant and joins the very long drive through line. Tyson throws his car into park as if he expects to be sitting for a very long time. Shit.
“So, we’ll start Friday nights in a few weeks. Let’s let her get settled, cool?” Remi asks.
“Hell no, it’s not cool. That’s the only home cooked meal I get all week.” Tyson whined.
“I just told you that Regan is wrecked. Stop being selfish.” My stomach clenches to hear that she’s wrecked, that she nearly lost her children because of that picture.
“I’m not just thinking about myself. I’m thinking about Regan, too. She needs adult time. Fun adult time. She needs to date again and get over that French motherfucker who I never liked, for the record.”
Remi lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Stone, welcome to the family. This is your life now. We don’t know each other well, but I’m looking forward to changing that. Since we’re kind of…brothers now.”
My gut tightens and I can’t hide my discomfort as I stammer through my answer.
“Uhh, but not really, though. I mean, he wasn’t my dad.”
Tyson gives me a surprised side-eye, and there’s silence from Remi’s end of the line. I grimace and look away. I rub a hand over the back of my suddenly warm neck. “I’m sorry, I just haven’t really had time to process this—”
“Hey, hey…no pressure.” Remi sounds like he’s talking to a skittish animal. “I know this is strange. Just wanted to let you know where I am…You can meet me there, or not. Either way, welcome to the family. You should come to dinner at Regan’s one Friday. Ty drive like you have sense and call me when you get home. We’ve got some business to discuss.”
He hangs up, without saying bye or waiting for Tyson’s response.
“Older brothers. Bossy as fuck. See how he just ordered me around? He’s always sticking his nose in my shit. You’d think I was still thirteen and not thirty-two.”
“Hayes is the same. Sticking his nose where it’s not wanted.”
“Listen, you got any nice doctor friends Regan’s age? She needs a regular guy, but you know my sister—she’s so image conscious. She’ll want someone who, as my mother would say “has the same size door as hers.” He gives me a knowing look.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, she’s had a rough time. Since that picture dropped, all the funding for her little center she was building has disappeared. Her little fake housewives clique dropped her, boards she’s served on for years asked her to resign. Her kids come home crying because people are talking about their mother’s ass. And so, I want to find her a man who makes the bitches who have been kicking her while she’s down, choke. I’m thinking chief of staff, head of a department, or something.”
“You want me to find her a man?” My head spins at his request.
“Yeah. What did you think? That I was asking you to date her?”
“No, no, no,” I laugh, through my queasiness.
Tyson laughs, and the line finally moves. We inch up another few feet and come to a stop. “Regan is a rare vintage. I’m vetting her next man myself. And I don’t know anyone with better judgement than you. So, when you get to work, take notes, give me names, so I can start getting them checked out, and we can get her introduced. Okay?” He punches me in the shoulder, and I muster a weak smile.
“You know what, I’m not hungry anymore. So, if you’re only stopping for me, we can leave.”
“What’s wrong with you? You’re passing up shitty food?” He puts a hand on my forehead, as if he’s checking temperature.
I shove his hand off and give him a critical once over. “From the look of that gut, you might want to do the same,” I quip.
He just laughs and slaps my back. “Stone, my man. I missed you. It’ll be good to have you around. If you’re not hungry, you will be, as soon as we get close enough to smell the grease.”
His phone rings again. The car announces the caller as “Tami.”
I pull out my phone and check my messages, while he talks to her. But I can’t focus. I keep replaying the things Tyson said.
He crushed my hopes of getting him on my side in my bid to win Regan back. But, I didn’t come all this way to let something like Tyson’s approval keep me from her.
And, right now, the biggest obstacle in my way is the woman herself.
I’ll see her on Friday at this dinner. I’ll keep my feelings to myself, until I’ve had a chance to talk to her. Because there’s no way in the world that I’m going to let her go.
Always Be Unfinished Business
Regan
“Come meet us at The Belvedere. Stone’s only been in town for a week, and he’s already got a girl. You need to take lessons from him.”
I re-read Tyson’s text, my heart in my throat, as I stare at the picture of my brother with a grinning, gorgeous Stone and a half-naked girl who appears to be sitting on his lap.
I look at my missed calls. Today is the first time this week that he hasn’t called. At least now, I know why.
I slip my phone into my purse and close my eyes. “Charlie, I have a headache. Can we take a raincheck?”
His hand cups my forehead. “Are you sick? Do I need to pull over?” He puts on his turn signal and starts looking to his right, for a chance to change lanes.
“It’s just a headache. I’m fine,” I lie, but the strain in my voice isn’t feigned. I’m tired and anxious and scrambling to figure out all of the things that need solving.
Every day, I remind myself that the past is a useless place to dwell. I force myself to focus on my future.
I have a lot to do. Marcel isn’t the only bridge to my old life that’s no longer passable.
Friends, board directorships, club memberships, and long-standing invitations all disappeared faster than roaches when the lights come on.
When the crowd thinned, I could see clearly who my real friends were, and they’r
e pretty amazing. So, yes, I don’t have Stone. But I have my brothers, and Dina and Confidence and Kal. And Hayes, kind of.
He’s made attempts to talk about what happened. I went to visit after Phoenix, their beautiful baby boy, was born. He didn’t miss the chance to remind me of what Stone stood to lose if his identity was revealed. I know Hayes means well and that he’s just trying to protect his brother, but I wish he’d see that I am, too. Even when it’s killing me too. And I know I can’t avoid him forever. I’ll have to see him at some point.
My heart and thighs clench, simultaneously, as joy and desire swirl inside me, and for a moment, I’m lightheaded with giddiness.
I have to shake myself free of it. This is how I got into this mess in the first place.
As a reminder of that, I read Tyson’s text again and memorize that picture and all the places he’s touching that girl.
“Here we are,” Charlie drawls, as we pull to a stop in front of my house. I glance up and see the dark row of windows that line the second floor. My mother has them tonight. The week that Marcel kept them from me was the longest of my life. But I wasn’t the only one he kept them from. When she asked for them to spend the night, I said yes. Now, I wish they were here. I need their warm little snuggles and unrestrained affection.
“I’m sorry to be a pain. But at least you’re spared an evening of being seen with the notorious Regan Wilde.” I reach across the center console and press a quick kiss to Charlie’s scruffy cheek, at the same time that I pull the lever to open the door.
He puts a hand on my arm to stop me. “Fuck anyone treating you like shit. Marcel is well-liked, but so are you. And you’re family. I’m here for you. I wish I could do more than lend a friendly ear.”
I only nod, because I can’t speak around the throb in my throat. I press a grateful kiss to his cheek and slide out of the car.
I stand on the sidewalk in front of my house and wave goodbye, until he turns right onto Wildewood Parkway and disappears from sight. I trudge up my driveway, tired and feeling sorry for myself.
