After You

by Sam Mariano

  Shaking his head, he goes on, “And you know what? I’ve never complained. I’ve never pressured you. I have never asked for more than you could give. I was content to wait you out. But this is just… it’s not fair. I’ve done everything right and he has done everything wrong, and you give more to him than you’ll give to me.”

  Nothing he is saying is wrong, but that makes it even harder to hear. I feel sick to my stomach—sick with guilt, sadness, and a host of other unpleasant feelings—but mostly I just need him to stop talking. “That’s fair,” I say, hearing—and hating—the cold, unaffected sound of my own voice. This isn’t how we should end. Henry has been so good to me, and it shouldn’t end this way. He shouldn’t think I never cared. I want to tell him that I did, that I still do, that I’m sorry for my emotional limitations, that I don’t know why I can’t give him what he wants. I want to say so many things, I want to express feelings that I do have, but I can’t get the words past my throat.

  “That’s it?” he asks, faintly disbelieving. “That’s fair?”

  I beg for the words to come, but they won’t. Derek lingering nearby doesn’t make it any easier. “I’m sorry,” I say, since it’s the most I can get out. “You’re right. I just… I don’t know what to say. I can’t…” Frustrated by my own ineptitude, I shake my head. Tears burn behind my eyes, and that freezes me up even more. Even if I could handle letting them fall in front of Henry, I can’t handle letting them fall in front of Derek. He saw my last tear fall for him years ago. I don’t care if he takes a fucking sledgehammer to my whole life, I’ll never shed another tear for him. I’ll stand here stoic and watch him break down every wall of this life I’ve built before I give him the satisfaction of an emotional response.

  “Wow,” Henry says, looking a little stunned.

  “Please… let’s leave. Let’s just… let’s go back to my house. I can’t…” I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “I can’t do this in front of him.”

  “No,” Henry says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Nicole. Maybe you’re willing to let your life revolve around him. That’s your choice. But I’m not.”

  It’s harder than it should be to keep my head up, my shoulders back, my face straight as the only person who has consistently cared about me when he didn’t have to turns and walk away from me. It’s official. I can drive anyone away. I’ll always drive everyone away.

  I deserve to be left. I took and I took, but I didn’t give back. Not enough, anyway.

  I can’t fix it now. It’s broken. I’ve tried to fix the broken thing after it shatters; I know that doesn’t work. I know it’s too late.

  I’m frozen in this spot, and it’s the last place in the world I want to be. I want to turn and watch him drive away, but I won’t do that. That will hurt too much. It already hurts too much. Ice queens shouldn’t be able to hurt this much, should they?

  I have to do something, so I fling the bag of popcorn and cup full of soda at Derek, then I reach into my purse with my now-free hands, draw out my cell phone, and text Bethany for a ride.

  Almost. Just before I push send, I remember she left for her honeymoon today.

  I have no one else to call.

  I have no one.

  Derek quietly picks up the now-empty popcorn bag and the soda cup. Diet Coke darkens the pavement where it spilled all over when I threw the full cup at him, and a yellow, buttery blanket of popcorn litters the ground beneath us, just waiting to be stepped on and crushed by the next cluster of movie-goers.

  After throwing the trash away, Derek walks over to me. He starts to drape an arm around my shoulders, but I snap, “Don’t.”

  He lowers his arm, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Let me give you a ride home,” he says, his voice soft, like he knows he overstepped. It doesn’t mean he regrets it, he just knows that I am unhappy, and he knows he’s the reason—again.

  “You’ve done enough,” I tell him, turning away and walking down the parking lot toward the road.

  “Nikki, come on.” He jogs after me. “There’s no reason for you to walk home. I’m the reason your ride left. Let me take you home.”

  “Fuck off, Derek.”

  “Better idea,” he says. “Let me take you to my home. You can be as mad as you want at me. I can take it.”

  “Yeah, right,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “I just checked your track record, and I’m sad to inform you that you’re full of shit.” Stopping and turning to glare at him, I ask, “Why couldn’t you just let me have one nice thing? Just one? Why did you have to come back? I had a whole life without you. Maybe no one thinks it’s fucking good enough, but it was mine, and I liked it. I liked the people in it. It was nice. You don’t want me, and you don’t want anyone else to have me either. You’re mean, Derek. That’s what you are. People may look at me and see the ice queen, but you are mean.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be mean,” he tells me.

  “You don’t have to try, Derek. It just comes naturally to you.” Angrily jabbing my hand in the direction of the road Henry disappeared down, I seethe, “He was the hero. He was the hero. In the story of my life, you have never been the hero. You’re the villain. You’re the one that breaks me. You’re the one who hurts me. You’re the destroyer. You’re the taker. You may have won, but that doesn’t make you the hero. You will always be my villain.”

  He looks a little stunned, but I don’t care. My soul aches with emptiness, and my face is hot with the stress of holding back tears that desperately need to fall.

  I start walking again, but I hear his footsteps on the pavement behind me. “Nikki…”

  “Please leave me alone. Just walk away, Derek. You’re good at that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He follows me all the way home. For the first few minutes, he begs me to get in the car, but eventually he gives up and drives beside me with his blinkers on. It’s ridiculous and I keep snapping at him to just go home, but he won’t.

  I walk the whole way home just so he can pull into my driveway after.

  I hear the latch on his door, hear it slam shut, so I know he’s following me, but I’m too drained to care. I fish my keys out of my purse and push open the door. The house feels empty again. This time if feels like it lacks Henry, even though he didn’t live here. I glance at the corner where he wanted to put a TV. Why didn’t I just let him put a TV in the damn corner? It didn’t matter. No, I would have never used it, but it wouldn’t have hurt me to let him put the fucking thing in my living room.

  I bend down and drop my purse beneath my desk, then drop my keys on top of the Dreamcatcher rough draft I had printed out to go through when I got back home from the movie. I made time to go on the date since Henry insisted, but I was planning to get right back to work as soon as I got home.

  I don’t have the emotional capacity to read a romance right now, so instead of doing that—or dealing with the man I know followed me into my house—I walk silently to my bedroom, peel off my dress, kick off my shoes, and climb into my bed.

  I’m dead empty, not for the first time, but I hope to God for the last. It probably will be. I’ll never meet someone else with Henry’s patience or Derek’s ability to burrow into my heart.

  Thank God.

  I just have to get through tonight, then tomorrow everything will be fine.

  Derek darkens my doorway, leaning against the frame and looking at me lying in bed. It’s hard to believe he has only been back in my life for seven days, and he has already wrecked all of it. The whole damn thing. Maybe he’ll set my house on fire before he leaves. He needs a grand finale, after all.

  “Remember when you hated me so much you wanted to ruin my life?” I ask him.

  His gaze drops and he nods his head.

  “Now you’ve ruined it twice. Congratulations on your accomplishment.”

  “I don’t want to be your villain, Nikki.”

  “You should have stayed gone,” I tell him. “I missed you, but I shouldn’t have. I can’t belie
ve I let myself forget what this feels like. I worked so hard to remember, but… I forgot.”

  Pushing off the doorframe, Derek takes a few slow steps forward. “I’m sorry it hurts right now. It won’t hurt forever. This won’t hurt forever. He wasn’t right for you, Nikki. I’m not saying that to be a dick. He wasn’t. He doesn’t deserve any trophies for waiting around on you. He waited around because he knew you were worth waiting for. Because you were something he wanted. He wasn’t doing you any favors. You’d have been just fine without him there waiting around, wouldn’t you?”

  Yeah, I guess that’s true.

  Squatting down beside the bed so he can look me in the eye, Derek tells me, “You’re the strongest person I have ever met in my whole life, Nikki. Everyone else I’ve ever known combined can’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Stop,” I mutter, turning my face into the pillow.

  “I’m not bullshitting you. You’re a fucking warrior, and if he really thinks you’re cold, he’s an idiot. You’re not cold, Nikki. You run hot. You and I both know that. You’re like a fucking volcano, and only someone who hasn’t seen you in all your glory could ever think you’re in any way lacking. He wanted to hurt you, so he said shit he knew would hit home. He was pissed because you wouldn’t let him in. He knew you’d never be his, and he wanted you to be. He’s jealous, that’s all. Don’t listen to any of that bullshit. Never listen to the words someone flings when they’re breaking up with you. They’re saying what they need to believe, that’s all.”

  His words are nice, but I can’t hear them right now. I need him to leave me here to mourn, to just bow out of my life so I can return to safety. I thought I was keeping Henry at a safe distance, and clearly even that wasn’t far enough. It’s a joke that six nights ago Henry was here with me, and I was opening up to him more than I ever have, telling him things I want. Things I realize now I’ll never have. Not ever. Having any of the things I told him I wanted would require letting someone closer than I let him, and losing Henry still hurts. There is no way to have relationships from a safe distance, and I am not going to do this again. No more hurt. No more loss.

  I have my work. It’s fulfilling enough. I’m glad I got that rough draft out, because the mood I’m in right now, I feel wilted, like I’ll never use the keyboard as my paintbrush again, never fill another empty canvas with lovers I’ve dreamed up. Why would I dream up something like that for people I like, even if they only live in my imagination? Love is for suckers. I hate love. Love is the worst thing in the world.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m really not. But I’m drained and I really just need to sleep. Will you please…?”

  Derek sighs, looks at the ground, then nods his head and stands. “All right.”

  I have nothing else to say, so I pull the blanket up over my face and don’t lower it to peek back out until I hear my bedroom door click shut.

  I feel heavier, but relieved at the same time. I can’t properly process tonight with Derek in my space. I need to be alone. For the rest of my life, I need to be alone.

  ---

  It’s still dark when my eyes open. I’m somewhat relieved, since I don’t feel up to dealing with work just yet. While I’m up, I figure I should go pee and make sure Derek locked my door on his way out. I doubt tonight is the night the burglars would decide to come ransack my house, but one never knows.

  The living room is dark, but before I make it to the door, I’m aware of a foreign presence in my sanctuary. Surely enough, draped uncomfortably across my couch, his leg hanging off, is Derek. He didn’t leave. He is sleeping on my couch, and he is much too tall for my tiny couch. He’s positioned right beneath the window, so the moonlight spills over his face. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. It’s been a long, long time since I saw his face basked in moonlight.

  My gaze drifts to something else that shouldn’t be there. The pages of my Dreamcatcher manuscript are stacked neatly on the floor beside the couch. Since it’s just printed paper, he shouldn’t have even known what it was, but I pick up the top page, the title page, and I realize Derek knows my pen name. He’s the only person in the world who knows I’m Nikki Reid.

  Sighing, I hold up the paper, my accusation at the ready, and shake his shoulder until he wakes up. His blue eyes open and crinkle with warmth when they hit my face. He glances up at the window, seeing it’s still night time.

  “Uh oh, what did I do now?” he asks, looking back at my face.

  I raise my eyebrows and show him the title page. “Did you read this?”

  “I did.”

  “All of it?”

  He nods his head. “It’s great. I found some typos, but I was too tired to mark them.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “Of course there are typos. It’s only a rough draft. Why did you do that? I didn’t say you could read this one.”

  “You know I don’t ask permission,” he informs me. I’m just about to lay into him some more, but then he adds, “I had to read it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want all your words.”

  That simple sentence steals my words. My frozen heart feels funny, but I can’t think about that right now. I don’t want to think about anything.

  Reaching forward, I run my fingers through his hair and watch surprise transform his features. “This couch is too small for you to sleep on,” I tell him.

  He’s smart enough not to use any words to respond to that. As I rise, he sits up, his eyes trained on my face. He watches cautiously, like he’s ready for me to turn on him in a second, but he still gets up. I hold out my hand, and he takes it. I know it’s likely a mistake to invite the destroyer into my bedroom, but it doesn’t matter. Some women have their good choices and happily ever afters, I have my scraps. I might as well use him while he’s here.

  I back myself up against my bedroom door and wait to see what he’ll do. Like there’s a magnet inside me pulling his body toward mine, he presses me harder against the door, one hand cradling my face, the other skimming my side. Since I thought my house was empty and no one would see me, I’m only wearing a bra and panties. He leans back just long enough for his blue eyes to rake over my body in the darkness, then he moves back in and his lips brush mine.

  Planting one hand against his chest, I pull back and remind him, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

  His lips curve up faintly. “Yeah, Nikki, I know the drill.”

  “I mean it,” I tell him. Letting my hand drift lower, I grab his cock. “I want this…” Then I release it and bring my hand up, placing my palm against his heart. “Not this.”

  His big hands come up to cover mine as it rests over his heart. “This already belongs to you. You don’t have to take it, though.” Then he grabs my wrist and pushes it back to the hardness between his legs. “I will definitely give you this.”

  Smiling faintly, I tease, “What, that doesn’t belong to me, too?”

  Cocking an eyebrow, he smirks at me. “You want it to?”

  “No,” I say, my smile melting as panic tries to set in. Nope, nope, nope.

  “I was just kidding,” he murmurs, bringing his hand up to fist it in my hair. He tugs sharply, and I close my eyes, sighing with pleasure at the feel of his roughness. “Now get on your knees and let me remind you where you belong.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, but my stomach pitches with excitement as he tugs on my hair again and I drop to my knees. That I’ve missed him is a given, but I’ve missed this, too. I’ve missed how well he knows me, how well he intuits what I need, what I want. No one else has ever even tried, but when it comes to what I like in the bedroom, Derek has that arena mastered.

  Fire curls through my belly as I reach for the zipper on his jeans, tugging it down and slipping the button through the hole. He reaches down, tenderly gathering my hair in his hands, then guides my face toward his cock, like I need the direction.

  I open my mouth, pleasure swirling through me as he pushes the head into my mouth. M
y lips close around it greedily, like he’s a delicacy I’m rarely lucky enough to taste. My heart aches for some reason as memories of the old days seep in, reminding me of the early days of our relationship. The first time I had my mouth around him, his hands in my hair. It makes me hungrier for him, more desperate to suck the pleasure out of him. My mind knows this doesn’t mean anything, but my mouth seems determined to convince him this warm, wet haven is where he should stay forever.

  I would be alarmed at my body overtaking and shutting down my brain’s functions, but this is exactly what I wanted. As he pushes himself deeper into my mouth, as I wrap my tongue around him and tease him, as the guttural sounds of Derek groaning in pleasure fill my hallway, I have everything I want in this moment. You can’t be empty when you possess everything you want.

  He takes a step closer, pinning me against my bedroom door. I’m trapped here in the greatest prison man has ever constructed—the bars are Derek’s legs, he’s my warden. I look up at him, at his intense blue eyes, my mouth full of his cock, and in this moment, everything is so simple. I want one thing and one thing only—his pleasure. My pleasure. There’s no difference when we’re together.

  I pop off and he bends down, dragging me upright, then grabbing me under the ass and lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on for dear life as his mouth slants over mine. My eyes drift closed and I dart my tongue out to war with his. This is the best kind of war, because no matter who comes out on top, we both win.

  Derek tosses me on the bed and shoves his jeans down. Then he yanks his shirt off and follows me. I make quick work of unclasping my bra and peeling off my panties so that when he reaches me, we’re both bare naked.

  Derek grabs me around the waist and drags me beneath him on the bed. I glory in the sensation of his skin against mine, the hot path his hands leave on my body as he touches me. Bending his head to kiss my neck, he murmurs, “Should I eat you or fuck you?”