by Skye Warren
He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed just slightly.
“I want to tell you something,” I said.
He tensed even tighter.
“No, no,” I soothed. “It’s nothing bad.”
I waited until he’d leaned back into my hands again, urging me to continue.
“I don’t expect anything from you when I say this. It’s just that, after everything that’s happened, I feel like I should tell you.” I slipped my hands around his waist. “I love you.”
He bolted away so fast I almost fell over.
“Shit,” he said as he steadied me.
I tried not to be offended. And failed. “Shit? I mean, not that I expected you to say it back, but shit?”
He paced away from me to the other side of the bed. What was he scared of? His hard expression told me to leave it alone, that I’d never know, but I couldn’t.
“Are you that mad at me? I can’t even love you while you’re mad at me? Well, too bad, because I do. I love you, I love you, I love you—”
He turned and left the room.
Well. That could have gone better. It didn’t matter to me that he said it. I figured a girl who deserved Colin had to learn to read his actions, not his words, but even his actions hurt at this moment.
We were so close. We had everything right there, within our grasp, but he—what? He didn’t believe in it? He didn’t want it?
I wasn’t good enough.
No, dammit! I wouldn’t go down that path again. It wasn’t so much a path as a sinkhole. I’d fallen into the ice, or been pushed. I’d treaded water, stuck, as people gave me pitying looks. No one wanted to come close for fear they might fall in with me, except for Colin.
I was good enough. If he didn’t want me…well, I would be devastated. Even my newfound confidence couldn’t protect me from that. But as painful as that would be, I refused to let it define me.
That kind of confidence mumbo jumbo was easier said than done, though. I wanted him, loved him, and his rejection hit hard. I debated leaving him alone, letting him calm down, but it had been a week since the explosion, and we’d gotten no closer to getting over this. No closer to each other.
Down the stairs I went. I found Colin sitting on the couch.
I sat next to him. “Colin,” I said, in my best imitation-Colin voice. “I was hoping we could be together, you know, like a happy ever after, but this doesn’t bode well for my chances.”
It was, of course, a mimic of what he’d said to me that first night. It was also cheesy as hell, but I wanted to make him laugh, and also to show him that he’d been right. We belonged together, and he’d insisted on it until I finally believed. This was the reverse, and to my surprise it worked.
His lips cracked just slightly. Then they slowly, reluctantly widened into a smile.
I cheered inwardly. “Oh, you like that? I’ve got more where that came from.”
“Yeah?” he said, the grin—that sweet, sexy grin—still in place.
“No, that was a lie. Or a horrible attempt to talk dirty. I’m just happy I got you to smile.”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not that bad.”
He ducked his head to hide his smile. I squirmed onto my belly so I could see it, like a puppy begging for attention.
“You are that bad,” I said up at him. “You’re a bad boy. That’s what I like about you.”
“Really?” he asked skeptically.
“No, not really.” My head rested on his lap. I turned to nuzzle my nose into his abs.
“So everything you’re saying right now—”
“Lies, all of it. I like your smile, though. That’s the truth.”
He leaned back, amused. His hand came up and stroked my hair. I closed my eyes and dreamed.
When I woke up, I was in the bed. In the dark and alone.
I sighed. That man was more obstinate than I gave him credit for. I didn’t want to nag him, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I got up and peeked in Bailey’s room, but she slept on, snoring softly. I went downstairs. He wasn’t in the living room, though the throw pillows were still squashed from where we’d sat on the sofa. I checked his study and the kitchen—nothing. Had I missed him upstairs? Maybe he’d decided to stand behind the curtains, seeing as a certain nosy girlfriend had disturbed his reflection last time. I should let him be, but a little bit of unease had wormed its way inside me.
Back upstairs I checked the bathroom, which was still open and dark. Then his closet. His clothes hung there, like always, but there was a gap. It could be a trick of the light. Or maybe it was laundry day.
It wasn’t.
The sadness hit me full force then. He’d left; I knew it.
I checked behind the curtains anyway. Then I went downstairs and stared at the oil blot where his truck should have been parked, to be sure.
What did it mean? Was I supposed to move out? Was I supposed to wait for him?
I’d thought we’d stay together, I really had. And barring that, I figured we’d break up and I’d move out. Never had I really imagined that he’d leave me alone…in his house.
Chapter Eleven
The day dawned drizzly. Bailey watched morning cartoons, happily oblivious to the fact that we’d soon be leaving. I sat on the couch drinking my coffee, memorizing whatever details I could see.
When I got the energy to get up, I’d have to start packing. Then we’d have to move into a new place of our own. The details on how we’d accomplish any of that were hazy, but that didn’t make them less real.
I supposed it made sense that Colin would break up this way. Quietly, the way he did everything else. And it also illustrated just how angry he was with me, that he couldn’t even give me the courtesy of a get out.
He just slipped away, leaving me to figure it out and get myself gone. I could stay, make a fuss, but that would just be embarrassing for all of us.
I would miss this place. I would miss Colin more, but for now I soaked in the somber peace of the house. The moldings at the bottom of the wall didn’t match the floorboards. They were a different kind of wood. I’d never gotten to ask Colin if he knew how that had happened
There was a cobweb at the top of the slanted ceiling that I’d never been able to reach, not even standing on a stool and waving a broom. It had been here before me, and it would still be there after I left.
The weather hadn’t stayed warm enough to spend much time in the backyard. I would have liked a barbecue. I’d never been to one, but they sounded nice.
A knock sounded at the door.
If they were knocking, then they weren’t Colin, so I didn’t care.
The knocking grew more insistent. They’d wake up the neighborhood.
I got up and opened the door. It was Detective Cameron, but he didn’t look like Detective Cameron, because instead of a dark suit, he wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt. His hair was jagged, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
“Is she here?” he asked.
Oh, Shelly, what have you done to him? “She’s not.”
“She’s with him, isn’t she? I knew it. I just came from there, but the fucking butler insisted—”
“No, she’s not with Philip either,” I said. “She got her own place.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “She’s okay?”
“She’s fine. Recovering well.”
He understood that I wasn’t going to tell him, not that I could hold him off for long. He would track her down at some point if he wanted to. But if Shelly didn’t want to be with him, what good would it do? It seemed today was the day for breakups.
“Come in if you want.” I opened the door wide.
He tilted his head, trying to glance around me. “Are you sure? I figured I’d have to fight him just to talk to you.”
“He’s not here,” I said. His eyes met mine as he caught the finality in my tone.
“Oh,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He glanced behind him before stepping inside. In t
he living room he gave Bailey a curt nod of introduction. She gave him the cryptic message, “bagel,” before turning back to her show.
I poured him a cup of coffee, and we sat down at the dining room table.
He contemplated the black liquid. “Was it because of…”
“Yes,” I said. Colin had left because of what had happened that night. I’d fucked up, or he just didn’t trust me anymore, but either way it was over. “You really like her, huh?”
He glanced up, his eyes hooded. “Who?”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“What did she say about me?” he asked cautiously.
“She said—” She said you two had never had sex, paid or otherwise. It made me wonder why you’d never paid for it if you like her. But then, we all have our hang-ups. “She said you guys weren’t a couple.”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I guess that’s right.”
“Did she move there for you? In with Philip?”
He paused, then shrugged. “I never know why she does what she does.”
“But you think it’s your fault she got shot,” I mused.
The guilt that flashed in his eyes said I was right.
“If it’s any consolation, I think she likes you back.”
“Thanks.” He grimaced. “Could be worse, right?”
We sat there, both of us rejected, trying to imagine what could be worse. Aside from death or grievous injury, there didn’t seem to be much, but that was the kind of morning it was. The morning after a breakup.
“There was something else. We found this at the site. Shelly told me it was yours.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and slid it over to me. I didn’t even know how he’d sat down with that in his back pocket, it was so thick. I recognized it, of course. It was filled with money, unless someone had taken it.
“It should all be there,” he said. “But you should count it.”
I didn’t even know how much had been in there to begin with, how much money Colin had wanted to give me so that I could run away with Bailey after betraying him. Flicking open the flap, I saw the green, crisp bills.
Blood money, or was it? No, it wasn’t born of hate or violence but something nicer. Andrew had started the little fund when he’d given me the money he’d been going to use for the lawyer. Then Colin had taken it, only to return it at the warehouse with even more money. They’d both wanted me to be safe. I slapped it shut.
“I’m sorry about the way it happened,” he murmured. “And about my partner. He was a troubled person. Not that I’m making excuses for him.”
“What do you mean was? What is he now?”
He looked surprised. “You didn’t hear?”
Oh God, Colin, what did you do? “Tell me.”
“He got hit by a car. Dead on arrival.”
“When?”
“That night. He was running across a three-lane highway. Even at night he didn’t have a chance. I guess he was trying to get out of the area. He’d have been exposed after that.”
Cameron took his leave after that. I didn’t show him out, just sat dumbly at the table.
Explosions and gunshots and this guy ends up hit by a car. What were the odds?
Accidents happened.
But then, Colin had taken off after him. Had he caught him and fought with him? An image flashed through my mind of the man cornered, possibly injured, deliberately steered into a busy street he had no hope of crossing. Colin hadn’t struck the killing blow; that had been done by a ton of steel, but he might have played a part.
Did I even care if he had? I’d been so adamant that he shouldn’t be involved in anything criminal, anything violent, but I knew as well as anyone that being innocent couldn’t protect us. It just made us more vulnerable. And aside from Cameron, for whom I had a grudging respect, I had no love for cops.
That guy would have killed us. He’d certainly tried and almost succeeded. I couldn’t find anything inside me that minded that this guy was dead, or that Colin might have pursued him literally to death. Maybe that made me a monster, or maybe it just made me human.
I delayed packing by putting away the dishes and laundry. They had to be done, I reasoned, so I might as well do them first.
And then at noon, something happened.
The delivery arrived. Colin had the Oasis start delivering lunch for the three of us when I had first been injured. I shouldn’t have to cook, and he wanted to watch over me, so we ordered in. A definite benefit to owning a restaurant.
It wasn’t the delivery that surprised me. I had hardly expected Colin to run around town, letting everyone know we were through, publicly severing ties. He wouldn’t even have thought of something so small as a lunch delivery.
No, I accepted the large paper bag with thanks, not surprised in the least. Since Colin had always taken the deliveries, I introduced myself to the delivery boy.
Though he had to be at least sixteen, Kai seemed more a boy than a man. He was young and black and overly polite, as if making up for any rude, young black men I’d ever encountered. I drew the line at ma’am. He refused to call me Allie, so we settled on Ms. Winters.
The surprising part was that there were only two meals in the bag, one for me and a child-sized portion for Bailey, which meant he had changed the order. Perhaps he had even been at the restaurant and sent the food himself.
A little jolt raced through me.
It felt like a message of some sort, this deliberate delivery of food from a man who’d always tried to give me food or drink even that first night. What if it was a peace offering?
It could mean nothing, but it could also mean everything. I couldn’t ignore it. What if he was, at this moment, sitting in that tiny little office down the hallway of his restaurant, waiting for a response from me? I had to try.
And if he was at his restaurant, then I had the perfect excuse to go and see him. Unfortunately, since Colin had insisted on doing the grocery shopping after the injury, we had no ingredients.
Leaving the food from the restaurant to cool on the counters, I rushed to the grocery store with Bailey and threw just enough ingredients to make a double chocolate cake into a basket. The checkout lines weren’t all that long, but I still tapped my foot. Bailey puttered about in the section with little toys they always used to entice small, bored children. I decided it was their own fault if she knocked them all over.
I didn’t have much hope that this would solve my problems with Colin, but at least I could do something. Baking had always served that purpose for me. Put in the right ingredients and it turned out right, not like life. And when it was done, I’d get to see Colin.
“Got a party or something?” the man behind me asked.
I turned back to see a man with his own basket, his smile kind.
“Something like that,” I said. “Making a cake for a friend.”
“Oh, what kind?” He peered into my basket, with special emphasis on my left ringless hand holding it.
“Nothing too fancy,” I said. “A double chocolate cake.”
“Sounds great. I like a woman who can bake.”
I laughed at the blunt caveman statement. It was clearly a sort of pickup line, but it wasn’t accompanied with a lascivious sneer or anything. Bake wasn’t a euphemism. He just liked a woman who could bake.
“Do you want to go grab a cup of coffee sometime?” he asked.
He looked to be maybe in his midthirties, with the kind of body that had once been thick with muscle but was now thick with padding. His age didn’t bother me, even though he’d be substantially older. His chubby body didn’t bother me in the slightest. It was maybe what Colin would look like, several years down the road.
He just wasn’t Colin.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m…attached.”
Disappointment tinged his good-natured smile. “No problem. Gave it a shot.”
I returned home with Bailey, bemused. I’d never been hit on before when I’d been out with her. What man w
ould want to take on a young woman with a young child, except a self-destructive guy with a hero complex like Colin? This guy had, though. I wondered now if maybe I hadn’t been giving off a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe all along. Thinking the worst of men and only seeing what fit into my ugly little expectations.
It probably also helped that the grocery store near Colin’s house was quite a bit nicer than the one near my old apartment. It was clean and stocked, and I’d never yet found dirty diapers in the carts.
Over the hour it took to make the cake, let it cool, and apply the frosting, Bailey nodded off. I tucked her into bed and asked Linda to watch her for me.
I marched into the restaurant and straight back to the office. I was a woman on a mission, the cake my Trojan horse. Colin opened the door. His face was pale and drawn, older than I’d ever seen it. His appearance shocked me into forgetting my purpose.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
His tired eyes looked me over. He was ancient today. “What do you need?”
I’d made a mistake. It hadn’t been a message, or if it had, the message had been to stay away. A good-bye enchilada with a side of “it’s not you, it’s me” rice.
I shrugged the cake box, a bulky movement. “I just brought this for the restaurant. Like we agreed, that’s all. Unless you didn’t want it. Then I could—”
“I’ll take it,” he said, taking the box from me. He didn’t sound happy about it, but then he didn’t sound mad. More flat, more distant, like he had a cold. Though I knew he didn’t, or at least he hadn’t last night.
I stood in front of him with no further reason to be there but unable to walk away. “Are you coming home?”
“No.” Not anytime soon, I understood.
Why, why, why, played in my head, but this wasn’t the place. He’d removed himself from the place just to avoid that discussion. Still, I was confused.
“Do you want me to move out?” I asked.
“No,” he said sharply.
I waited for him to say unless I wanted to. If I wanted to leave, then I should, and that would be my cue. The way a nice guy, a guy who’s unable to properly break up with me, would do it, but he didn’t say it.
