The Essence of Fate

by Alison E. Steuart

  I sit there a while longer, taking slow, deep breaths, focusing on the love that Ian and I share. How connected we are and how he fiercely protects me. Eventually, there is a steady release of tension and doubt, and I am able to relax. I get up and go over to the mirror and make sure I’m still presentable. I felt a few tears break free during my moment of weakness, but there seems to be no evidence of that. Fluffing my hair and refreshing my lipstick, I’m ready to get the hell out of here and go be with Ian.

  I am grateful that I was able to sneak away without having to give Tracy the details of my awful encounter with Dickhead. Once I’m in the sanctuary of my car, I take a few more calming breaths and try to call Erika so I can vent and hopefully gain some moral support, but she doesn’t answer. She’s probably in a meeting, so I shoot her a text.

  Me: Just had an unpleasant run-in with Gabriel. Bastard showed up at the resort basically trying to hit on me. So weird. Totally ruined my afternoon. I’ll tell you the details later.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, I’m halfway down the road before I remember I’m supposed to pick up my dry cleaning. I was so distracted I automatically turned right to go to Ian’s condo. Now I have to do a U-turn at the next light. Knowing Gabriel made me that absentminded irritates me even more, especially since I can’t stop wondering—did he seriously think I would go have a drink with him? And if so, why would he think that?

  Stop it, Charlotte! I have to force myself not to overanalyze what just happened. Turning on my music, I pretend to be okay.

  The traffic is kind of heavy today and it takes me a while to get to my destination, but it’s a blessing because it gives me some time to chill out and get my head together. It also helps that the lady who runs the dry cleaners is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and I gobble up her good vibes. Even walking back to my car makes me feel so much better as the sun is shining bright, a slight breeze is cooling the air, and it actually smells fresh and clean outside. I think about sitting on the balcony with Ian tonight, and a smile spreads across my face.

  As I turn the corner to where my car is parallel parked, I see a black Lamborghini parked across the street, several cars down. I stop, wondering if it’s Ian…it has to be. There are a lot of nice cars in Miami, but probably only one that looks like that. I wonder what he’s doing here. I can’t really tell what all the storefronts are, but one looks like a bistro or something. Maybe he stopped there to grab a bite, although it’s kind of late for that.

  Just then, the door to the bistro opens. I can see that a man is holding it for someone, and I swear it looks like Ian.

  What happens next causes my vision to tunnel and the blood to rush through my ears, drowning out all sound.

  A very petite, very beautiful young woman walks out ahead of Ian and turns to smile up at him as they move out onto the sidewalk. Ian’s back is to me as they stand in front of each other for what seems like a lifetime.

  I’m completely paralyzed, my feet bolted to the concrete. Please don’t let this be my biggest nightmare come true. Please let this be something innocent that will make perfect sense. I don’t have a chance to beg the universe anymore for an outcome that won’t ruin my life, because at that moment, Ian’s hand comes up and his fingers run tenderly along the side of her face, exactly like he’s done to me so many times before.

  All the air rushes out of my lungs as my world comes crashing down. The next breath I take is filled with a blackness thick with the pain of betrayal and lies and weakness. I can’t stop its inky darkness from seeping into my heart and devouring everything I thought was real.

  Twenty-Six

  Ian

  Me: Hey. Is everything okay? I’ve been trying to call but it goes to voicemail. Getting worried.

  I’m getting seriously edgy. Charlotte never lets her phone die, and she’s not at work so I can’t get her on a landline. I’ve been home for an hour, and she should have been here by now. Making matters worse, I can’t track her phone because the damn thing isn’t on. My gut is telling me something is up and pacing around my penthouse isn’t making me feel any better, so I grab my keys and head to her place to see if maybe she’s there packing and doesn’t realize her phone is off. I hope.

  Traffic is awful and I almost get into an accident, so by the time I get to Charlotte’s…and find she is not there, my nerves are shot. Goddammit!

  Leaving her condo, I pull out my phone and call Jackson.

  “What’s goin’ on man?” Jackson answers after several rings.

  “I’m worried about Charlotte. I can’t get in touch with her, her phone is off, she’s late getting home, and I don’t know where the hell she is! Something’s up, Jackson. She never does shit like this.” Saying it out loud confirms the truth in my mind—something has happened and I’m starting to be sick with worry.

  “That does sound strange. When did you talk to her last?”

  “Just a quick text before lunch. Today was kind of busy, figured we’d catch up after work.” A decision I’m now regretting.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything unless it was necessary, but I stopped by to see her after lunch today.”

  “Why the—” I try to interject.

  “Hey! Before you start getting all crazy, I did it to help you guys out. You told me she had doubts about moving in, so I figured she needed someone to talk to…and I was right. Thing is, we had an excellent conversation and she was looking forward to talking to you about it this evening.”

  My anxiety is spiking as terrible thoughts start flashing through my mind. I shut it down before I lose control. “Thank you for doing that, but it’s after seven and I have no fucking clue where she is!” I raise my voice and hit the steering wheel.

  “All right, try to stay calm. Let’s think about this… Do you know when she left work? Or have you tried to call Erika?”

  “I called her office but didn’t ask anyone what time she left, and no…it didn’t even cross my mind to call Erika. Dammit! I can’t fucking think clearly!” I need to pull over and concentrate. I’m not even paying attention to where the hell I’m going.

  “All right. You call the resort and see what you can find out, and I’ll call Erika.” Without a goodbye, the line clicks and he’s down to business. That’s Jackson, and I’m appreciating his clear thinking right now more than ever.

  Once I’m settled in a random parking lot, I call the resort and ask for Tracy, but she’s gone for the day. Terrance is gone as well—apparently, the night shift crew is on and they have no idea when Charlotte left. Speaking to the manager, whom I don’t recall ever meeting, I ask her if she could get in touch with Tracy and get back to me immediately. At this point, I don’t care what anyone thinks, I want some fucking answers.

  Less than five minutes later, my phone rings and it’s Tracy. I hear trepidation in her voice, and I don’t know if it’s because I intimidate her or if she knows something and doesn’t want to tell me. “Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I can’t get in touch with Charlotte, and I’m beyond worried. Something’s not right. Do you know what time she left work?”

  “Well…I…uh, yes. She left a little early today to run some errands before she went home.” My stomach drops, knowing that it’s been hours since she was last seen. Continuing to fumble through her words, she finishes with, “But…there was one kind of…strange thing. I don’t know…I don’t want to assume anything.”

  I’m going to reach through the fucking phone and strangle her if she doesn’t spit it the fuck out! “Tracy. Tell me what’s going on. Now.” I almost don’t recognize my own voice it’s so menacing. It has the needed effect as she starts racing through her words.

  “Okay. Well…before she left, Gabriel from Novas Alturas stopped by.”

  My heart is pounding, the blood rushing through me so fast I can hear it whirring in my ears. Fucking Gabriel? What does that bastard have to do with this? Jesus Christ…she can’t be with him right now. I try to focus as Tracy continues. “He came by to a
sk her about accommodations for some associates from Brazil coming to town next week. But…I don’t know…I…kinda thought he was acting weird. Then I saw that Charlotte was angry.”

  “What do you mean she was angry? What the hell did he do?” I swear to God I’m going to kill that motherfucker.

  “I don’t know. That’s just it. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. They were talking in the lobby, but too far away for me to know what it was about. But I could tell by the way she was talking to him that she was mad, and…she even pointed her finger into his chest then she turned and stormed back to her office.”

  What the hell is going on here? I can’t imagine Gabriel would do anything to hurt Charlotte, but this is not sounding good. My hands are sweating, which has never happened in my life.

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “She was in her office for maybe thirty minutes, then left without saying goodbye. I just assumed she was too irritated to talk to anyone. Shortly after that, she sent me a text that said Novas Alturas may have people coming to town and that I was to deal with Gabriel from now on. That’s all I know.”

  “No…that’s actually a lot. Thank you very much, Tracy. I need to make some calls. Sorry to bother you.” I rush through the words so I can call Jackson. But before I can dial his number, he’s calling me back.

  “What do you know? Because I just got a fucking earful from Tracy,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “The only thing I got from Erika that was good is that Charlotte is okay. She talked to her about thirty minutes ago.” The tone in his voice is blasting my nerves with adrenaline.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jackson?! Where the hell is she and what the fuck is going on?” I yell, ready to destroy something if I don’t get some goddamn answers.

  “I don’t know, Ian. Now let me fucking talk. I wanted you to know first and foremost that she’s not dead!” He’s yelling at me now, and Jackson doesn’t yell.

  “You’re right. Of course, it’s a relief to know she’s not dead, but Tracy told me that fucking bastard Gabriel stopped by the resort right before she left and that he upset her somehow. Now you’re telling me she’s okay because she called Erika, but she didn’t fucking call me! What the fuck did that son of a bitch say to her?” My fists are clenched, and I want Azeveda in front of me right now.

  Jackson’s voice is somewhat sad when he says, “I don’t know what’s going on, Ian. All Erika would tell me is that she is sworn to secrecy and will not break it, that Charlotte is safe, but she doesn’t want anyone contacting her or trying to find her.” He pauses for a few seconds, then finishes with, “Until she’s had time to think.”

  My head falls back against the headrest as some of the fear drains from my body. She’s alive and I don’t suspect she’s with Gabriel—both are such a huge relief I could cry.

  But she doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want to see me. I am so confused, and the thought of her not being in my life, of walking out of it and never turning back, washes over me in a wave of pain that’s almost unbearable. As I feel it coming up from my gut and into my chest, I can only get out a strained, “I’ll call you back,” then hang up right as the pain works its way up through my throat.

  Before I can choke on whatever is lodged there, it escapes as a growling scream that feels like it’s ripping a hole through me. The pressure in my head is ready to explode, and my hand may be broken from whatever I just punched. As I sit there, my heartbeat throbbing in my hand and in my head, I realize my face is wet. Reaching up, I wipe at the tears running down my cheek, then stare at the shiny wetness on my fingertips. What the hell is happening? Why is she doing this?

  I stay where I am, sitting in my car in some random parking lot, staring at nothing for at least an hour, maybe more…I don’t know…I don’t even care. I can’t move. It’s as if I don’t have the strength or even the wherewithal to do so. I’m like the dying prey of a stealth hunter, my main artery severed as I’m left to bleed out, completely drained of feeling, giving in to the numbness that nature designed to protect me.

  My eyes finally close as bright headlights shine through the windshield, reminding me that I’m still alive. A car parks directly in front of me. I know exactly who it is.

  I unlock the doors so Jackson can get in the passenger’s seat. Finally, his headlights turn off so I can open my eyes again. Looking straight ahead, eyes half-open, head back against the seat, my voice gravelly, I ask, “Were you really that worried about me, Jackson?”

  “Not so much worried, my friend. Just thought we might need to go over some things. You know…work out the problems so you don’t let it stay balled up inside turning into God-knows-what inside your head.” He’s very calm, but I can tell he’s concerned. “I tried to call, but you wouldn’t answer. Naturally, I tracked your location…” He pauses when I look at him in defensive surprise, only to find him giving me a look that says don’t you dare question me. Continuing, he says, “You’ve been in the same parking lot since we hung up. I didn’t want the cops to get suspicious. You kind of stand out, you know what I mean?”

  Damn, he knows me better than anyone and knows I’d never do anything stupid, but I can understand why he decided to come check on me. “I’m sorry. I turned off my sound. I needed to think…though I’m not entirely sure I’ve done any thinking at all because my brain doesn’t work. What the hell is going on, Jackson? What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do? Jesus Christ! Why would she do this? All I’ve done is love her, and I thought it was pretty goddamned obvious that she loved me, too. But this doesn’t feel like love… It’s fucking killing me, man.” I turn my head to look out my window so Jackson can’t see my face. I feel it contorting. I heard the crack in my voice. Biting down hard, I try not to break. God, I hate this weakness. Like my insides are being ripped out and I’m powerless to stop it.

  “It’s all right, Ian. Don’t hold back on my account. We’re brothers. This shit’s tearing me up, too. I can only imagine what it’s doing to you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze as a single tear runs down my face.

  Growling, I wipe the damn thing away. “I swear to God, Jackson, I have never been more scared and pissed off in my life. I was terrified not knowing if she was okay, not knowing where she was, who she was with, if she was hurt or scared…it makes me sick. But now…now that I know she is safe and literally fucking chose to leave me like this without a single word or explanation as to why…I didn’t know I was capable of being this angry with her. Goddammit! Why the hell does she think I deserve this?” I almost hit my steering wheel again, but the sharp pain that ignited through my hand when I attempted to lift it stopped me. “And I think I broke my hand.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t look good. We should probably have it looked at so it doesn’t set wrong. I’ll call Richard and see if he can meet us at his office, that way we won’t have to go to the ER and wait around. But, before we do that, let me ask you something… Earlier today you said that you ran into your cousin, Phoebe, and that you ended up having coffee with her because she was so upset about having just had her dog or cat or something euthanized. Do you think Charlotte saw you with her and got the wrong idea? That’s her biggest fear, ya know, that you’ll end up doing to her the same thing her father did to her mother.”

  I turn to look at him again, speechless. That never even entered my mind. I kept thinking it had something to do with Gabriel, but no clue what—plus my mind doesn’t go to the same places Charlotte’s does. I would never cheat on her. I would never hurt her. Seeing Phoebe today never registered in my brain as an issue. “It’s going to be pretty screwed up if that’s the reason for all this. And how the hell am I supposed to know if she won’t fucking talk to me?”

  “Ya know, if she turned off her phone, you should be able to see her last location. Maybe that will give you a clue,” he says, like it wasn’t the most brilliant idea I’ve ever heard.

  “Bloody hell, Jackso
n…you’re right! How did I not think of that?” Pulling out my phone, I do what he suggested. After it buffers for several seconds, the screen lights up with her last location. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. She was on the same street as the coffee shop Phoebe and I stopped at today, and sure enough, the time coincides.

  “That’s it…she was there. That has to be what happened. You’re a genius!” I’m still staring at my phone, wondering what must have been going through her head to make her react this way. Why didn’t she just walk up to us and introduce herself?

  “I can’t believe this. I cannot believe this whole nightmare is because I ran into Phoebe today.” Finally looking up, I turn to Jackson. “How did you figure that out, and when did you figure that out? I’ve been sitting in this fucking car for hours!” I have such a dichotomy of emotions rushing through me in opposite directions, I feel like a downed power line that landed in a puddle of water.

  The relief rushing through me, knowing she’s not hurt and that everything can be explained, is immeasurable. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the sense of betrayal that’s landed in my gut like a sucker punch.

  “As usual, I laid out all the factors. From there, it really didn’t take long to come up with that conclusion. What did take a long time was trying to get in touch with you because your damn sound was off. I really didn’t want to leave if I didn’t have to. My wife is going to go into labor any second…remember?” I sense a little humor in his voice.

  “Dammit, Jackson. I’m sorry. This whole thing with Charlotte has made me useless and obviously very selfish. You shouldn’t be here. Becca needs you at home.” A wave of anger comes over me—not only at myself, but at Charlotte. I literally forgot my best friend’s wife was pregnant, let alone almost a week overdue. “I’m good, man. Thank you for coming out here. You’ve cleared away a lot of smoke. At least now I have something to go on.”