What Comes After

by Toppen, Melissa

  Chapter Twenty

  Abel

  Tonight has been exactly what I needed. Peyton is the perfect distraction. Beautiful. Funny. Easy to talk to. She makes me feel better in a way I can’t explain.

  She deserves better than me, this I know with complete certainty. But I’m selfish and I want all of her, even though I’m not willing to give her the same.

  “Okay, where were we?” Peyton reappears from the kitchen with two waters in her hand.

  “You were about to tell me your two truths and a lie,” I remind her.

  “Um, no I wasn’t.” She laughs, plopping down on the couch next to me before sliding a water into my hand. “I went last. It’s your turn.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I just went,” I tease, tipping the bottle to my lips.

  “I’m positive. But nice try.” She laughs.

  “Okay, let’s see.” I tap my chin dramatically. “I hate to fly. My favorite vegetable is corn. And the color orange makes me cringe.”

  “Hmmm. That’s a tough one.” She thinks on it for a moment. “The truths are, corn and the color orange?” she guesses.

  “Nope.” I grin.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I lift the beer bottle to my lips and take a drink.

  “You have to at least tell me what I did get right.”

  “The color orange does make me cringe.”

  “Okay, so then you hate to fly.”

  “Yep,” I confirm.

  “But you’ve flown several times, have you not?”

  “That doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “Fair enough.” She nods. “So, corn is not your favorite vegetable?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Asparagus.” I chuckle when she curls her nose.

  “Asparagus? That has to be one of the worst vegetables there is.”

  “Your opinion. I happen to really like it.”

  “Gross.” She shakes her head.

  “Your turn.” I laugh, settling deeper into the couch.

  “Okay.” She pauses. “My favorite color is pink. I used to be a cheerleader in high school. And I hate rap music.”

  “Easy,” I tell her. “Your lie is that your favorite color is pink.”

  “Incorrect. My favorite color is pink.”

  “Well, shit. Okay. You weren’t a cheerleader in high school.”

  “Wrong again.”

  “You hate rap music?” I cock my head, finding this little piece of information surprising.

  “Despise it.” She nods.

  “Really? I find it hard to believe you hate all rap music.”

  “I’m not saying there hasn’t been a song or two over the years that I’ve enjoyed, but rap music as a whole isn’t my thing. All the bass gives me a headache.”

  “So then you were a cheerleader in high school?” I give her a sly grin. “Let’s talk more about that.”

  “Let’s not. I’m embarrassed even thinking about it.” She covers her face with her hand.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. The thought of you jumping around in a tiny little skirt is really doing it for me.”

  “Is that so?” She giggles.

  “In fact, I think you should show me what you got.”

  “What?” She snorts, shaking her head no.

  “I’m serious. Show me.”

  “There is no way I’m cheering in front of you.”

  “I dare you,” I challenge.

  “Nope.”

  “I triple dog dare you.”

  “What are we, twelve?” She laughs.

  “Oh come on. One cheer.” I pout out my bottom lip.

  “Lord.” She lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, pushing herself up off the couch. Setting her water on the coffee table, she crosses to the other side where there’s an open space between the table and the television. “Don’t laugh.” She narrows her gaze at me.

  I make an X motion across my heart.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mutters to herself as she gets into position. “Give me a V. Dot the I. Curl the C. TORY. Turn around, touch the ground, bring it up, and break it down,” she chants, rolling her arms and clapping. “Let’s go, Warriors. Come on, let’s go, Warriors.” She waves her hands in the air at the end of the cheer. “Go Warriors!” she yells, kicking her leg.

  I clap, the smile on my face no doubt giving away how amused I am by this.

  “Yep, I can totally see it now,” I tell her.

  “Shut it.” She sticks her tongue out at me, her hands going to her hips.

  “Can you do all those flips and jumps too?” I ask.

  “Some.”

  “Show me.”

  “I am not flipping and jumping in the middle of your living room.” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “Fine, let’s go outside.”

  “Seriously? It’s like ten o’clock at night.”

  “And?”

  “And, it’s dark outside so you won’t be able to see me.”

  “Pretty sure there are these things called streetlamps. I’m sure I could see you just fine. I just think you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “You sure?” I challenge, purposely pushing her buttons.

  “You know what, fine.” She stomps over to the door and slides on her flip flops. “But if I fall and break an ankle because you have me tumbling in the dark it’ll be on you.” She rips open the front door and quickly exits the apartment before I’ve managed to get up off the couch.

  “Hey, wait for me,” I call, jogging outside after her without bothering to put any shoes on.

  She kicks off her sandals on the sidewalk, then crosses to a flat patch of grass in front of my building.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She looks forward, blowing out a hard breath.

  I’m just about to tell her she doesn’t have to, that I was only screwing with her. But before I have the chance, she takes off running, doing some cartwheel type thing before flipping backward, her hands barely touching the ground.

  “Holy hell. What was that called?” I ask, pretty impressed.

  “Round off into a back handspring.” She smiles. “I took gymnastics for twelve years.”

  “It shows.” I grin. “What else can you do?”

  “I used to be able to do a lot, but I’m pretty out of practice.”

  “You don’t look out of practice to me.”

  “Trust me, I am. You’ll know when I can barely walk tomorrow.” She laughs. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

  “You want me to try to do that?” I snort.

  “Why not?” Her smile widens.

  “Because I’d break my neck is why not,” I tell her like it should be obvious.

  “I bet you could do a cartwheel.”

  “I bet you I cannot.”

  “Come on. Try.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “You mean to tell me that I came out here and did a back handspring, barefoot, in the dark, for you, and you won’t even attempt something as simple as a cartwheel.”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m telling you.” I laugh when she gives me the cutest fucking mean mug I’ve ever seen. “Tell you what, how about we take this party back upstairs and I’ll do my best to make sure you’re not sore tomorrow.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “By giving you a massage.” I hold my hand out to her.

  “A massage, huh?” She raises an eyebrow in question but still takes my hand.

  “I’m actually pretty good at it. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she tells me, pausing to slip on her flip flops before following me back inside.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Peyton

  It’s still dark outside. I don’t know how late it is, but I know it’s pretty late. Abel dozed off a little while ago, but for whatever reason I haven’t been able to make m
yself get up and leave.

  Finally deciding I can’t wait any longer or I might fall asleep, I get up and make my way into the kitchen to get a drink of water. And even though I know I should gather my things and head home before it gets too late, I find myself roaming Abel’s apartment instead.

  There’s not a lot in the way of personal items. He has a wraparound couch, a coffee table, a television mounted on the wall. All the things a normal apartment would have, yet there are no pictures, no figurines, or little mementos from his life. Nothing. Nothing except a small silver vase that sits on the mantel above the fireplace.

  It catches my eye, even in the dimness of the room, and I find myself drawn to where it sits. It isn’t until I’m standing directly in front of it that I see the letters etched along the bottom.

  Finley

  I read the name twice before it dawns on me what this is... Finley’s ashes.

  From the bits and pieces I’ve picked up along the way I knew that Finley was cremated. What I did not know was that Abel still had her ashes, or that they were sitting in the room I’ve occupied with Abel most of the night.

  It doesn’t bother me. I mean, why would it? But it does give me this weird feeling. Like there’s not enough room in this apartment for the both of us. I know that probably sounds bad. I guess you’d have to be in my shoes to understand the feeling. I’ve known all along that Abel’s heart belongs to another. I guess I’m just now realizing what that means for me.

  How can there possibly be a future for us? How could I ever stack up to this perfect girl? The one he loved so dearly, who died way too young.

  It’s nights like tonight where it’s easy to pretend. It’s easy to forget about the ghost that stands between us. The one, after three years, Abel still hasn’t been able to let go of.

  She must have been some girl. To earn the love of a man like Abel and have it given to her so whole heartedly, even years after her death.

  I wonder if a man will ever love me like that. A love that defies everything, even death.

  “What are you doing?” I jump at the sound of Abel’s voice. Turning to face him, he’s leaning against the opening of the hallway, watching me.

  “Sorry,” I fumble. “I was just getting ready to head out and I saw this.”

  “I haven’t been able to let them go yet,” he says, his eyes going to the urn. “Half of them are buried with her headstone. This half.” He gestures to the mantle as he crosses the room toward me. “This half...” He stops next to me, his eyes on the urn. “She told me that when I was ready...” He trails off as his gaze slides to mine. “I keep waiting to be ready, but the thought of taking her and letting her go feels more impossible than anything I’ve ever done. Aside from watching her die.”

  “They say time heals all wounds. I don’t know if I believe that’s true,” I say, looking to where Finley’s urn sits in front of us. “Some wounds heal quickly. Some take a little longer. And then some, the really deep ones, I don’t think they ever truly heal. It’s more like they form a permanent scab. It’s enough so that we don’t bleed out, but it never heals more than that.”

  “I keep waiting for the day. The day I wake up and know it’s time. I’m starting to wonder if that day will ever come.”

  “I get that feeling. Losing a mom is different than losing a spouse, but I think both are monumental losses.” My eyes go to his chest where Finley’s name is tattooed in beautiful cursive.

  “I got it a few weeks before she died,” he says, clearly seeing where my mind has gone. “I thought somehow it would help me keep her alive, even after she was gone.”

  “I did the same thing.” I hold up my left foot, and without explaining the meaning behind it, I gesture to the feather tattoo that runs along the top.

  “Thank you for being here.” His statement has my head turning upward to find his eyes locked on me. “You make it easier somehow. Easier to think. Easier to breathe.”

  The tight knot that’s been lingering in my chest skyrockets into my throat and I find myself unable to form a single word.

  “I know I’m all over the place. And I know I’m probably giving off some really confusing signals. But the truth is I really like you, Peyton. I’m just trying to figure out how to carry those feelings with all the others that are jumbled up in my head.” He blows out a breath, angling his body so that he’s facing me head on. “Just be patient with me, okay?”

  “I like this.” I gesture between the two of us. “I hope you know I don’t expect anything from you. I just really enjoy being with you.”

  “I enjoy being with you too,” he says, reaching out to trail his hand lightly down my arm.

  “There’s no pressure here, I hope you know that,” I reassure him, even though in my heart all I really want is for him to be mine. Really mine. But I also know that trying to force it will only push him away. So, I’m trying to play it his way, in hopes that it goes my way in the end.

  “I do. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me. You’ve brought light back into my life. After spending three years stumbling around in the dark, I need some time to adjust.”

  “I understand.” I reach up, cupping the side of his face. “I should probably go.” I let my fingers slide through his ever-growing beard before falling away completely.

  It would be so easy to lose myself in him. So easy to let my guard down and act on my heart. But I can’t be that careless.

  “It’s pretty late,” I say, taking a full step back. “And I have to work in the morning,” I continue, remembering that one very important thing. “Crap, my car is at my apartment.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll drive you home.”

  “Abel, you’re tired. I can order an Uber.”

  “At this time of night?” He shakes his head. “Not a chance. I’ll take you.”

  “Okay,” I concede, knowing by the look on his face there’s no way he’s going to let me leave otherwise.

  “Let me just grab a shirt.” He looks down at his bare chest and my gaze follows his, my eyes locking in on Finley’s name above his heart seconds before he turns and walks away.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Peyton

  Abel: So I was thinking...

  I smile at my phone that’s lying face up on my desk. Picking it up, I slide my finger across the screen to unlock it right as another message comes through.

  Abel: How would you feel about sushi tonight?

  Me: Are you done with our game already? Three dares and you’re ready to throw in the towel?

  I laugh to myself, remembering last weekend when I took Abel to Perry House, a small little eatery on the outskirts of the city. Per the rules of our game, every place we go that he’s never been, he owes me a dare. So far, I’m three for three and it hasn’t even been two weeks. While the other two dares were fun, last week it took a turn into something else. I blame the wine or Abel or maybe it was a combination of them both. Whatever it was, when I dare you to take me to the bathroom... came out of my mouth, I was equally shocked and excited by the fact that he didn’t hesitate for a second.

  I guess it’s safe to say I’ve checked have sex in a public bathroom off my list. Not that it actually existed on my must do list, as it was never something I considered doing. But that didn’t make it any less amazing, and the excitement over the possibility of getting caught only added to the intensity of it all.

  Abel: Throw in the towel? After last time? Not a chance.

  I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a laugh.

  Abel: I just thought if I picked the type of restaurant the odds would be better stacked in my favor. You’ve had three dares. I think it’s about time I got one.

  Me: And what, do tell, are you planning on making me do if you win?

  Abel: Oh no, I’m not telling you that.

  I try to shake away the ridiculous smile lighting up my whole face but it’s useless. That damn thing isn’t going anywhere. Not when Abel is involved.

  Me: Guess I’ll
have to find a sushi restaurant you’ve never been to.

  Abel: Good luck with that.

  Me: We shall see.

  Abel: So tonight? Meet at my house at seven?

  Me: It’s a date. I’ll see you then.

  “Someone looks happy.” I look up, jumping slightly at the sight of my boss, John, lingering in my office doorway.

  “Oh hey.” I lock my phone and lay it face down on my desk. “Henna being Henna,” I blurt out the first excuse I can think of.

  “What did she do this time?” He smiles, sliding into the office.

  “You don’t even want to know.” I force a laugh that I think sounds somewhat natural.

  “Now, why does that only make me want to know more?” He chuckles, stopping directly in front of my desk.

  “So, what’s up?” I completely dodge the topic, folding my hands in front of myself.

  “I wanted to touch base with you about our upcoming trip to New York. I know it’s still a couple weeks out, but I want to make sure everything has been communicated to you about your flight and hotel information.”

  “Yes, Bev sent everything over the other day. I didn’t know we were flying first class.”

  “Anytime I can, I do. Trust me, you’ll never want to fly coach again after this trip.”

  “Great.” I smile. “Because that’s all I can afford. Not that I fly much.”

  “I don’t know. Depending on how this trip goes I might look at taking you with me to more of these things in the future.”

  “Really?” My face lights up with excitement.

  “Really.” He nods. “Did you have any questions about the itinerary?”

  “I don’t think so, though I’ve only skimmed it. I was going to go through it more thoroughly later.”

  “Be sure that you do.”

  “Was that all you needed?” I ask when he continues to linger. “Or are you avoiding someone?” I arch a brow. It’s not uncommon for John to sneak into my office every now and again to avoid having to deal with Janice.

  She’s a hell of a tech whiz, and basically keeps this place running all by herself, but she tends to be quite needy. John’s too polite to tell her to go away so instead he finds places to hide out.