by Taylor Dean
“I know. I hate it too, Artie.” I hug him to my chest. There’s something about this sweet dog that calms my soul. I needed this. He makes me happy, and I need to do things that make me happy right now. Desperately. I’m hanging on by my fingernails. The Great Big Dark wants to be my roommate.
I keep insisting I live alone.
I turn my attention to the person—who can barely be called a human being—watching our reunion. “What are you doing here, Ryker? Have you come to destroy more of my life under the guise of saving me?”
He mulls that over. “No, of course not. I’m here because Arthur misses you. He stands by the door all day and all night, waiting for you to return. He’s hardly eaten. I guess you could say he’s miserable without you.”
“I get it. So, you want me to take care of your dog while you finish your business trip in Japan?” The gall.
“No, I won’t be returning to Japan. I’m sending another employee in my place. As for Artie, I’d like to give him to you, that is, if you want him. To be honest, we’ve never really bonded. You seem to love him, and he adores you. I know you’d be a good home for him.”
Tears prick at my eyes. “Yes,” I say right away. “Yes, I would love to have him.” He’ll be my very own little ray of sunshine. I understand why hospitals allow visits from therapy pets. They make a difference to a patient’s mental health. I need that right now, more than anyone realizes.
I nuzzle Artie’s head with my chin, love burgeoning inside me. Me, Artie, and Zane, we’re a trio. But the third leg of our stool is missing. And I’m falling over without him. I miss him desperately.
I study Ryker. There’s something different about him and I can’t quite figure out what it is. One thing I know for sure, his demeanor is strangely downcast.
“Can I speak with you?” he asks.
My mind races as I try to make sense of this visit. I can’t handle any more drama. I’m struggling to keep my head above water.
“Why? So you can destroy more of my dreams?” Am I talking about Zane or the piano? I don’t think he knows. Neither do I.
He shifts uncomfortably. Do I detect a bit of guilt? I’m sure it’s a new emotion for him. “No, it’s something else. It’s important.”
He brought Artie to me, so I guess I can at least speak to him for a few. “Yeah, okay. For a minute. I’m super busy.”
If he detects my blatant sarcasm, he doesn’t let on.
I unlock the door to the new place I call home. I call it my palace. It’s a standard one-bedroom apartment. Nothing special. But I’m on my own again and free of any obligations to Ryker. That alone makes it the most wonderful palace in the world.
Shortly after I was released from the hospital, I enlisted my brother to go to Ryker’s penthouse to gather my belongings. My father found me this apartment and rented it on a month-to-month basis. They moved all my stuff in, organized it for me, and here I am. My baby grand is still at Ryker’s penthouse. I don’t want it here. I couldn’t bear to see it every day.
My family wanted me to return home with them to Twin Falls to take some time to regroup and figure out what to do next.
But I have unfinished business here in San Francisco.
The unfinished business is Zane.
They understood. I knew they were disappointed, but they supported me anyway.
The thing is, I didn’t tell them what had happened. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. I didn’t want to shed a bad light on Zane or give my family a reason to dislike him. Hence, Mom thinks I have Zane, the man I’m crazy about, to look after me.
I’m not positive that’s true anymore. His silence says so much. It makes me wonder if everything is still okay between us.
I regret not spilling my guts to her and asking for her advice. I usually tell her everything. But I’m dealing with too much right now. It’s overwhelming.
I know staying here is a risk. But I must know if there’s anything real between me and Zane. I can’t leave until I get my answer. Believe me, I’m already questioning the wisdom of my decision. After all, he’s the only thing keeping me here now.
“This is quaint,” Ryker says.
Translation: This sucks.
“It’s horrible. Just say it.” Especially compared to his luxurious penthouse.
“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s . . .” He pauses. “Okay, yeah, it’s horrible.”
“Did that hurt terribly?’
“Did what hurt?”
“Telling the truth.”
“Mmm, it’s not so bad. Not my usual style, though.”
I think we finally understand each other, Ryker and I.
“You’re hopeless and I pretty much hate you. Tell me what you want to say that’s so important and get out.”
A flash of anger doesn’t cross his features at my words. He’s still a touch sheepish around me. Good. He should be.
He’s also done with me and has probably already moved on to other nefarious schemes. I wish it were easy for me to move on from the mass devastation he created in my life.
“Have you heard from Zane?”
Sore subject. “Not recently.” I haven’t seen him since that tense moment in the hospital when he looked at me with fire in his eyes, the moment doubt invaded my soul.
I was discharged from the hospital the next day. I received a text from Zane shortly thereafter. He tried to call, but I was taking my first challenging shower with a plastic-covered cast. So, I missed it. Something I deeply regret.
Zane: I’m being sent overseas. Emergency mission. Have to leave within the hour. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. Really bad timing. Can’t get out of it. We need to talk when I get back. I can explain, Mila, I promise. Please let me. Take care, heal, and enjoy your time with your family. Everything will be okay. I love you.
I responded with a simple Be safe. I love you and I’ll miss you.
There’s an ache in the pit of my stomach with Zane gone. I long to hear his explanation. I want to get it out of the way so we can return to the way we were.
At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. Maybe I’m a fool.
Other than a beautiful vase of roses and a get-well card, I haven’t heard another word from Zane.
Nothing. Like he disappeared off the face of the earth. It’s killing me. A long, slow, torturous death.
Was Ryker right when he said leaving was Zane’s talent? Has he left me?
I hope I haven’t made a huge mistake. Without him, I wonder what the heck I’m doing here in San Francisco.
“We tracked Zane down.”
“No surprise there. That’s your specialty.” This time, my sarcasm is not lost on him.
“He’s been out on assignment, some overseas mission where he doesn’t have cell service.”
I hide my stunned reaction. I’m relieved to hear he doesn’t have cell service. Maybe that explains everything.
I hope.
“We had to go through official military channels to reach him. He’s on his way home now.”
“How did you manage that?”
“If there’s a bereavement in the family, the military is very cooperative.”
Wait. What? Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Bereavement?”
“Yes. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach Zane. My father passed away two days ago. The funeral is tomorrow. Zane ought to be there. I was hoping you’d heard from him.”
Stunned again, my lips form a silent O. Zane is going to be overcome with grief. His beloved father meant the world to him.
Now I understand Ryker’s current expression as well. Grief has a way of making an appearance on people’s facial features.
“You mean our father, not my father. Right?” I’m always inclined to defend Zane. He needs someone on his side.
“Our father,” Ryker snaps, sounding irritated.
Oops. There’s the real Ryker, shining through.
“Will you let him know the funeral service is at two PM tomorrow? I wanted to make s
ure I’ve made every effort to inform him. Otherwise, he’ll accuse me of cheating him out of our father’s funeral.”
He assumes I’m still in contact with Zane, that even without cell service he’s somehow keeping in touch.
Nope.
“But the military did give him the message, right?” I ask.
“They said they did. They said he was on his way home. But I haven’t heard a word from him.”
“I’ll send him a text. But I can’t guarantee he’ll receive it.”
“Thank you. You’re more than welcome to attend the service tomorrow. My father liked you.”
Zane will need support—and I want to see him. “I’ll be there.”
“I appreciate that. It’s been a tough couple of days.”
I’m only thinking of Zane when Ryker lost his father as well. It’s not a time to hold grudges. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” So trite, but I don’t know what else to say.
He takes out a business card and jots down the address of the cemetery. Huh. Another business card from Ryker. I’m so lucky.
“Graveside services only.” Ryker pinches his nose to control his emotions. “I’d better go. Lots to do.”
He leaves in a hurry, not even giving Artie a last glance.
Or me.
I know he’s mourning and distracted.
But I can’t help myself. I say to the thin air, “My hand, you ask? It’s healing, but I might never play the piano again. No worries, it was only my lifelong dream, no big deal.” I let out a fake, fluttery laugh.
“Pain? Hey, on a scale of one to ten, it’s only an eight. Hardly hurts at all.” I wave my good hand in the air.
“Oh please, stop apologizing, I forgive you for slamming that heavy door on my hand. I know it was an accident, don’t give it a second thought.” I manage a fake smile.
“By the way, thanks for exposing Zane’s true colors. He was only the love of my life. It didn’t really hurt all that much.”
Artie looks at me with his huge dark eyes. He whines as though he’s expressing sympathy.
“It doesn’t matter, does it, Articus? We don’t believe that brute. We still love Zane. Even if we do require an explanation.”
I collapse onto the couch, holding Artie close. The Great Big Dark tries to take over, but I keep him at bay.
Only just.
chapter twenty-nine
~
I ARRIVE AT the cemetery early. It’s a beautiful resting place. The perfectly manicured grass is a vibrant green and the entire area is dotted with mature trees.
My eyes search the area for Zane. I don’t see him.
I texted him last night. I debated over what to say, how many details to include. In the end, I kept it simple.
Me: So, so sorry about your father. Funeral service is at two PM.
I don’t know if he received it. I haven’t heard back. I hope he’ll be able to make it home in time. He would be devastated if they held the service without him.
A crowd has already gathered at the graveside, quietly visiting and taking turns to sign an elegant guestbook. Soft organ music plays from a hidden device.
Ryker approaches when he sees me. He hugs me tightly. “Thank you for coming, Mila. Come sit with me.”
I hug him only because of the circumstances. After the funeral, the truce is over.
There are six chairs in the front row, designated for family. I agree only because I’d like to sit with Zane.
Debra is already seated. She’s wearing a sequined black number with thigh-high slits up the sides. The only thing that makes it appropriate for her husband’s funeral is the color. In every other way it’s entirely inappropriate for her age and the occasion.
She looks me up and down. “Too bad about your hand, Mila. But there are so many other things you can do with your life. Things that really matter.”
I lean down to her level. Which is low, very low. “Or I could marry a well-to-do man and live off of him.”
A Kleenex is tightly gripped in her fist. She wipes at her eyes, even though there are no visible tears to mop up. Her mascara is perfect with not a smudge.
“Aren’t you clever?”
“I’m learning,” I tell her, and take my seat.
Ryker turns toward me, casually placing his arm around the back of my chair. He quietly whispers in my ear, “Did you hear from Zane?”
“No, I didn’t. I hope he makes it in time. Did you hear from him?”
“No, nothing.”
And yet, he went ahead with the funeral service. As though it didn’t really matter if Zane was here or not. The thought makes my blood boil. At least he put forth effort to notify him. But he should’ve waited until he knew Zane could be here for sure.
As we begin the opening hymn, a Jeep screeches to a halt on the street.
And there he is.
My stomach flutters at the sight of him. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart.
Zane exits the car wearing sunglasses, black suit pants, and a white dress shirt. He walks around to the passenger side of his jeep and grabs his suit coat. He puts it on as he walks toward the service. He pulls a black tie out of his pocket and wraps it around his neck, tying it as he approaches.
That’s Zane for you.
He straightens his tie and buttons his suit coat as he arrives under the canopy where everyone is seated, looking refined and polished, and like he didn’t just finish getting dressed as he approached. The man can wear a suit, the suit doesn’t wear him. Despite the somber occasion, he looks amazing. A little thinner, his skin more bronzed, but amazing all the same.
Due to his sunglasses, I can’t see his eyes. The firm set of his lips and the knit of his eyebrows expresses his mood, though. He’s upset, naturally. I know his grief runs deep, much more so than he’s letting on.
When he looks in my direction, he does a double-take and goes completely still. Promptly, he turns away. He doesn’t approach or take a seat. He remains standing.
It’s then I realize how it must look to him. I’m sitting with Ryker in the family section. And he has his arm around my chair, not around me, just around my chair.
From Zane’s point of view, it’s a minor technicality.
Ryker did this on purpose. I know he did. He’s still in the game. And I fell right into the trap.
When I stand, Zane looks my way. I motion with my good hand toward my chair, inviting him to sit.
He shakes his head in the negative ever so slightly, his jaw joint flexing like he’s gritting his teeth. It’s a response I’ve only seen twice. Now, and that horrible moment in Ryker’s penthouse. It’s so unlike the Zane I know.
I stand for a few more minutes, unsure what to do. I want to go stand by Zane, but I’m not certain he’d welcome my presence. He looks unapproachable, his expression hard. I’m not going to make a scene at his father’s funeral.
There’s nothing left to do but sit back down.
This isn’t how I saw this going. I wanted to be here for Zane, but I’m completely thrown by his demeanor. I knew he’d be grief-stricken, but I didn’t know he’d be standoffish.
The funeral is a blur. I hear nothing as I sit there with my heart in my throat. All of my doubts have been confirmed.
Memories wander through my mind. Zane’s hands running through my hair as he gently brushed my long locks. Riding a cable car with Zane while hanging off the sideboards. Walking through Chinatown hand in hand. Dancing with Zane while cooking chili. Watching Jeopardy. Shopping for colorful trinkets for Ryker’s penthouse. Riding pedal boats at Stow Lake. Jumping on Ryker’s bed and sharing our first kiss. Sharing that crazy kiss when he responded to the bomb-threat at the Golden Gate Bridge. Eating Lucky Charms for breakfast. Kissing wildly in a dark storefront while dressed to the nines in our symphony attire.
I want that life back. I want Zane.
I want his laugh, I want his kiss, I want his smile. I want his bare abs and chest to stare at me as he walks around in jeans and jeans
alone.
Am I wrong to want him? Is there a valid explanation he can offer me? Is he a thief? A stalker?
Do I believe Ryker or Zane? The thing is, Zane hasn’t given me a story to believe or not to believe.
Just radio silence.
The accident took everything that’d happened beforehand and placed it on the back burner.
Now I’m back to that horrible moment. That moment when Zane looked me in the eyes and said, “I can’t,” meaning he couldn’t explain. He had nothing to offer me.
What am I doing here? I’m here for Zane and if I don’t have him, there’s no reason for me to be here.
When the service is over, I remain seated as Zane stands next to his father’s coffin. He stands there a long time, saying his final goodbyes. I watch his lips move silently as he speaks to his father. I watch as he reaches out and pats the coffin a few times.
Then he turns to leave.
Without acknowledging me.
I follow him to his Jeep. “Zane, wait.”
He does everything he did when he arrived, only in reverse. He removes his suit jacket, takes off his tie, and unbuttons the top few buttons of his dress shirt.
His face could be made of stone. I’ve never seen him like this. Of course, I’ve never seen him devastated by loss, either. He shared a strong bond with his father, his only real family. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling.
His eyes look down at my heavily-casted hand. “How’s your hand?”
With everything that’s going on, that’s his first question. He’s concerned about me.
In that moment, I’m sure I’m not wrong about him.
“It’s healing. Thank you.”
“Good. I’ve been overseas on assignment. No cell service. Sorry I couldn’t call. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m glad you made it home in time to be here.”
He nods. “Me too.” He scrubs his face with one hand. “All night flight. I’ve hardly slept in two days. Barely made it here in time.”
