I close out of the court documents, trying to focus on tablecloths. And hors d'oeuvres. And wine. Anything but Olivia. Anything but Olivia. Anything but Olivia.
I pull up my work email, typing in ‘wine’ in the search box. Each of our board members have their own preferences, and I want to be sure I get them right. The search button fades and the email system works, pulling up eighteen emails with the word ‘wine’ in them.
The first on the list makes my throat dry. I stare at his name, as if it were summoned by the mere thought of him.
Thomas M. Carey.
I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t stop myself. I click on the email, reading through it. It’s a quick email about a client meeting, asking me if he should order ahead and have wine on the table. Tears blur my vision as I read it, his careful way with words. I can practically hear him saying the sentences, asking the questions.
I didn’t love Tom. I know that in my bones, but I cared for him deeply. At least, until he betrayed me by going back to his girlfriend.
Even still, thinking of him sends a pang of grief through me.
“Looking through that won’t make you feel any better,” AJ whispers, his hand grazing my arm. I shake my head, wiping my eyes quickly, but I don’t speak. He leans over, kissing the side of my head, then stands from the bed. I’m not sure if he needs to pee or is just giving me privacy as he heads to the bathroom, but it’s what I need. I go to the top and type in Tom’s name, scrolling through years of emails between us, some of which we turned in to the police, some of which are just between the two of us.
Tears are cascading down my cheeks when AJ returns again, but this time, he walks to the second bed and plops down. I don’t object as he turns on the television. “We should get some rest,” he says. “We’ll do some more searching tomorrow.” If I know him, he’ll be back up and searching after I’ve gone to sleep, but I don’t argue. I also don’t close the laptop.
Instead, I close out of the emails and pull up his social media. I’m not friends with him, so I’m limited to what I can see. His pictures are overrun with comments from friends and strangers alike:
THIS IS WHAT PURE EVIL LOOKS LIKE
How could his family not know? I blame them!
THEY’LL FIND HIM IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE
Monster!
You could’ve just killed yourself, you didn’t have to kill them!!!
@FACEBOOK TAKE DOWN THIS ASSHOLE’S PAGE
Respect the family, you guys
SOMEONE LOVED HIM TOO
How dare you?????
Probably the drugs
I knew him in school…he was always so normal
BRING BACK CAPITAL PUNISHMENT
What a creep
DIE PRICK DIE
Love to the ones you killed, you monster. I hope you rot
I HATE YOU
You’d better hope the police find you before I do
@THOMASCAREY YOU EVEN LOOK LIKE A KILLER
I’ll PRAY for your soul
EVIL NARCISSISTIC PIECE OF SCUM
You have no soul, you monster!!!
I can’t bear to keep reading, but each post, each picture is littered with the same filth. I scroll down, trying not to read. I want to find where the comments stop.
Tom didn’t deserve this, I know, but I can’t take it back now.
What’s worse, even if I could, I wouldn’t.
AJ is watching me, though he’s trying to look like he isn’t, but I refuse to look his way. Instead, I scroll back to the top, looking through his pictures in the grid format, so I don’t have to see the comments. He looks happy in them. I prefer to remember him this way. Before I destroyed him.
“You’re torturing yourself,” AJ says, his tone firm. He thinks I should stop, and he’s right. I should. I haven’t allowed myself to look up anything of Tom’s since the day we made our decision, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to. For now, I’m giving in to my urges.
I scroll and scroll, each happy smile bringing new tears to my eyes.
A picture near the bottom of the page catches my attention, and I stop. I click on it, bringing it full screen.
My breath catches in my throat, and I squint my eyes, trying to decipher what I’m looking at. The picture makes no sense, and yet it causes everything to suddenly make sense.
“AJ…” I whisper, staring at the image without blinking.
“Yeah?” he asks, both hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling.
“You should see this.” My heart is racing so loudly in my chest I can’t hear my jumbled thoughts.
He lunges up, leaning across the space between our beds to stare at the screen. When he sees what I’m looking at, he grabs the laptop from my legs, narrowing his eyes to get a closer look. It registers on his face, and he looks up at me.
“Is that—”
I nod, ice-cold fear filling my veins. “It’s Olivia…with Tom.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Olivia/Mia
ONE YEAR AND NINE MONTHS AGO
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, squeezing his hand tighter. He’s dragging me across what feels like an obstacle course, though the only obstacles are large rocks and twigs that keep snapping against my ankles. “Tom! Tell me what’s happening!”
He’s laughing, and I can’t help but laugh too, though my head is spinning with confusion. The blindfold makes it impossible to see anything other than a slight hint of light from the moon.
He stops suddenly, putting his hands out to keep me from going any further. “Take it off,” he says. He’s out of breath, and I’m glad to know the walk up wasn’t a piece of cake for him either, as it’s certainly taken it out of me.
I tear the blindfold from my eyes and look around. It’s dark out, and we’re on top of a large, rock structure. Below, the moon glimmers off the still water of the lake.
“What is this place?” I ask.
He kisses my cheek, practically giddy from excitement. “A buddy at work told me about it. It’s nice, right?”
“Very nice, baby.” I squeeze his hand, pulling the blindfold from my neck. He hands me a bottle of bug spray from his back pocket, and I spray my bare arms and legs before handing it back.
He tugs on my arm, leading me to the edge of the rocks with a cautious smile on his face. He looks scared.
“You know I don’t like heights,” he teases, but his palms are sweating profusely. “But I really thought you’d like this place. When I heard about it, I knew I had to bring you here.”
I love to be in high places, it’s true. I always have. When I was a young girl, my mom was constantly complaining because I’d torn my latest pair of jeans climbing in a tree. I’ve gone to the Arch in St. Louis more times than I can count, including several times with Tom standing down below, waving at me. It makes me feel powerful, up so high, and there are very few places I’d rather be. Besides with him.
“I love it, Tom. Honestly, this is amazing.” I stare down at the water below us. The sparkling reflection of the moon ripples as a toad hops into it. He squats down, placing a palm on the rocks and sliding his feet out so they dangle over the edge. I follow his lead, sitting down so my legs can dangle, too. There are pebble-sized rocks underneath my bare thighs and I swipe them free, though my thighs are already being rubbed raw by the rocks.
Regardless, this view is breathtaking.
“I wanted to get you here before dark, apparently sunset is the best, but I didn’t get out of work on time.”
Dusk has settled around us, no trace of sun in the sky, but it’s still beautiful. I rest my head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. You are perfect.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I do okay.”
“I mean it.” I nudge him, and he grasps at the rocks as if he’s going to fall. “Sorry.” I snort, covering my lips. He’s still a good foot from the edge on his side, but there’s real fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. Do you want to go? This is beautiful. I really appreciate it,
but we don’t have to stay.”
“No, no. I want to stay,” he says anxiously.
“Okay…” I furrow my brows, for the first time realizing something may be wrong. “Is everything okay, Tom?”
He nods, but doesn’t meet my eye. “Mhm.”
“What’s going on?” He’s lying, but I don’t know why. I look down at the water again, wondering how far of a drop it would be if he shoved me. I’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries.
He turns his head to look at me, licking his lips. “Okay, so…” He scoots away from the edge, pulling his knees up under him and walking back to where we came from. I quickly follow suit. He puts a hand on his forehead. “I wanted this to be so much more romantic, but I’m royally botching it.”
“What are you…what are you talking about, Tom?” I ask the question, but there’s an inkling in my mind that wasn’t there a moment ago as I watch him tremble despite the summer heat. He reaches in his back pocket.
“Mia, this past year with you since we reconnected has been the most amazing year of my life. I knew there was something special about you when you were a scrawny fifteen-year-old kid avoiding eye contact while you danced with me at prom. You weren’t even supposed to be there—I’d never gotten the courage to ask you—but someone else had, and he was stupid enough to leave you alone. I…I can’t really describe the way I felt when I saw you standing there across the gym that night. I guess a little like I feel now.” He wipes sweat from his upper lip with his thumb. “The point is, you were always too good for me, but I had to ask you to dance that night, and…for reasons I still don’t understand, you said yes.”
“Tom, I…”
“No, let me finish, please.” Tears sparkle in his eyes, and I feel a lump growing in my throat. “If I don’t, I may not make it through this. I…when you moved away for college, I thought I’d never see you again. I got mixed up with the wrong people, and I’m glad you left, because I never wanted you to see me that way, but then…you were back. I was finally sober and, like magic, you were back. I so badly wanted to be the man you deserved. The man you still deserve. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, it was like I was seventeen again, standing on that squeaky gymnasium floor in an oversized tux, just begging you to take a chance on me. And, today, I’m…well, I guess I’m there again. I’m always that kid with you, Mia. Always the kid wondering how I got lucky enough to get you but thanking God I did.” He pulls a black box from his pocket, and it’s barely visible in the moonlight. “So, I’m asking you, Camilla Lilliana Ramirez, my Mia, will you do me the honor of dancing with me for the rest of our lives? Will you be my wife?” He’s down on one knee, though I’m having trouble remembering when it happened. I have tunnel vision, the height of where we are suddenly terrifying.
He’s waiting for an answer, and I can’t speak.
Can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
I can’t form words, can’t get myself to move.
He nods, like he’s giving me the answer I can’t seem to find. “Mia?” There’s a half-laugh in his words because he expects me to have jumped for joy and pulled him into my arms.
I should do that.
Why haven’t I?
When he takes my hand, I realize it’s shaking, and when he stands, raising a thumb to my cheek, I know I’m crying.
“Mia, what is it?” His expression has gone glum, disappointment radiating from him.
“I…Tom…I…” I shake my head, biting my bottom lip. I’m going to rip his heart out.
I know they say most girls know when it’s coming, they expect it or see the hints in advance, but I hadn’t. I can’t recall catching even a speck of a hint. He’s managed to completely blindside me.
I want to be with Tom, honestly I do, but I don’t want to marry him. I’m only twenty-four. I am still figuring out who I want to be. I’m not ready to be a wife.
“Tom, I…”
“Don’t…” he whispers, tears glimmering in his eyes even more as he shakes his head. “Please don’t.”
“I…can’t marry you. I’m sorry. I love you so much, I just—”
He takes a step back. “How can you say you love me when you’re saying no?” His face scrunches with pain, and my reaction is physical. The weight of his emotions sit heavily on my shoulders. I clutch my stomach to keep from doubling over.
“I’m not saying no, I’m saying…not now. Not right now when I’m still figuring out—”
“What is there to figure out, Mia?” He shakes his head. “D-do you love me? Or was that a lie?”
“Of course, I love you!” I scream through my tears. Our voices echo through the quiet forest.
“You can’t. You can’t say you love me but you don’t want to marry me. It’s…it’s not fair.”
“I do want this. I do want to marry you, Tom. Someday. Just…not today. Not right now.” I reach for his hands, but he jerks them away, shoving the ring box into his back pocket. I never even got to get a good look at it.
“Oh, well that’s nice, then. I guess I’ll just sit around and wait until you’re good and ready, huh? Maybe send me a postcard when the time comes.” His lips press together firmly, but in his eyes I see no anger, only unbearable pain.
I can’t breathe. My body is tense with fear at the thought of losing him. I clutch my chest, wanting so badly to touch him. I know he’s mad, I know I’m breaking his heart, but I’m breaking my own, too. I shiver with exhaustion, and all I want is to go back to ten minutes before this moment, when everything was still okay. I want to live in that moment forever, the thought of what comes next terrifying me. “I don’t want to lose you, Tom. Can’t we just…can’t we just wait a year?”
“We can be engaged for a year!” he cries. “What’s the difference?”
Can’t he see what the difference is? I bite my lip, chewing down so hard I taste blood. Please don’t do this. “I don’t want to break your heart. I can’t say yes if I don’t mean it right now.”
“So now you don’t mean it?” His jaw drops.
The look in his eyes is a stab to my heart. Every word, every question another blow. I can’t breathe, can’t think. Everything, inside and out, hurts. “I…can’t say yes and mean it, no. But I do mean it when I say I want to be with you.”
“Just not forever and not like this.” He looks away, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this, Mia. I did not see tonight going this way.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, wiping my eyes. This wasn’t supposed to go this way, he’s right. I love Tom with all my heart. There’s no doubt, no question. I just don’t want this yet. It feels selfish. I want to collapse with the despair I feel. The cool tears sting my eyes and blur my vision. I just want to stop. To pause. I need to think.
I can’t bear to look at him. It’s killing me, and I squeeze my fingernails into my palms, hoping this pain can overcome the emotional pain ripping through my heart. I don’t deserve to feel the pain I do, the pain I’m causing. I have no right to feel sorry for myself when I’m the one making the choice. “I’m so sorry,” I say again.
“Yeah, well, me too.” He sniffs, kicking the rocks from in front of his feet. He growls loudly, kicking a few more and throwing his hands up behind his head.
“I love you, Tom,” I whisper, letting the tears linger on my cheeks. I want him to know how sorry I am. That I don’t want this to change us.
He turns back to me, pointing a finger in my face. “But not enough, right? Not like I love you. I love you enough to marry you, so if you can’t say the same, you…have no right to say that to me anymore.”
“Please, don’t—”
“No! You said you loved me! You’ve said it over and over. We’ve planned a life together—talked about kids and a house and vacations and…a future, Mia. I want that with you. I want it all with you, and I thought you did, too.”
“I do!”
“Then marry me!” he cries. “Marry me, or what you’re saying means not
hing. The choice here is marry me or lose me, and you’re choosing to let me go. Did you ever mean what you said? Was I just the idiot who believed it?” He puts a fist to his forehead. “I put three month’s salary into that ring, and spent weeks planning this. I was so nervous, but not because I thought you’d say no. I never thought—”
“We don’t have to break up—”
“Yes.” His voice is rampant with sobs of his own, though he’s trying to stay strong. He looks broken. The thought slams into my chest, causing fresh pain. Did I break him? “Yes, we do. I can’t just forget this happened, Mia. I can’t pretend you haven’t broken my heart and just go back to normal. Nothing would ever be the same between us. I can’t…I can’t understand how, if you love me like you say you do, how you can still say no. Unless you don’t want to be with me like I want to be with you. I can’t be in a relationship with you if I feel this so much more than you do.” He looks at me with pleading eyes, waiting for me to say something. I could lie, say yes, and hope for the best. It’s an option, but a terrible one. One without the happiness he deserves to have in an answer like this. He wants me to be his wife. He deserves for me to want that just as badly. I’ve been silent too long, and he takes my non-answer for what it is. He sighs, wiping away a tear from his cheek. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
My chest tightens as he walks away, each breath more painful than the last. My heart is breaking, shattering so hard I need to stop, need to breathe, but I can’t. I want to fix this, but I don’t know how. If I could just get close to him, touch him, kiss him, I could make him understand, but it wouldn’t be fair to him. I can’t give him what he wants, and it’s destroying me. I know he’ll never see how painful it is—he won’t see past his own pain—but it’s killing me, too. Worse, because I’m the one holding the knife. I’m the one saying no. We could be walking away in love, engaged, and happy. Instead, I’m choosing to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I clutch my throat, trying to quiet my sobs as I jog to keep up.
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