“Why do you think I’m here, in this apartment? We’re done.”
Rachel huffed a laugh. “Go look out your window, Annie.”
It was my turn to be confused. “What? Why?”
“Because if you two are really done, I don’t think Hector got the memo.”
I moved faster than any of us could blink. My wine sloshed over my glass and onto the floor but I didn’t have it in me to care. I ran to the window, my knees sinking into the softness of my reading chair and there he was. That black Range Rover was parked across the street with the man I loved inside. It looked like he was sleeping but I knew he would never fall asleep in the middle of the city. It was too much of a risk for his safety.
I kept my eyes open until they hurt from not blinking. I didn’t want to close my eyes. I didn’t want to reopen them and have the sight of him all be a dream. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath before opening them again. He was there in the same exact position. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
And then the questions started to kick in. What was he doing here? Why was he here? Why the hell hadn’t I noticed him there? How long had he been camping outside of my apartment?
I turned back around in my chair and melted into it, looking at my two favorite women. “I love him. And I told his son that I wouldn’t wait for him forever but I lied. I would wait for him for my entire life and maybe the next one, too.”
* * *
Opening my eyes was not an option. Well, it was if I wanted to face the truth. The truth of saying goodbye to my son for the second time this year, unsure if he’d be back for Christmas or not until next summer. The truth of saying goodbye to Annie. Because I had to. As much as I wanted to look into those deep blue eyes for the rest of my days, I knew she deserved better. She deserved more. Between her and my son, I knew, by the end of the day, I was going to be left heartless.
I let my head flop to the side, opening my eyes, hoping to get one last glimpse of her beauty. Except she wasn’t there. I sat up straight in bed, straining my ears for the sound of her feet padding against the treadmill or her crunching that stupid kid cereal she was obsessed with. Nothing. I whipped the covers off of me and took the stairs by two. More silence met me down there. I walked by the kitchen, making my way into Samuel’s room to find him gone. Back in the kitchen, I found a note next to the still-warm coffee pot.
Headed out early. I’ll text you when I make it to the campus. -S.
One was gone. I wasn’t too worried about him. He didn’t have a choice but to see me again. Where was she? Where was Annie? I guess I could’ve called out her name, but the knowledge of her being gone could be felt deep in my bones.
I took the stairs again in search for her things. I opened her designated dresser drawers and looked for her suitcase and backpack in the closet where she’d stuffed it. Gone and gone. I searched my nightstand and hers. No note, no nothing.
My hands gripped my hair as if that would help. It did a little, easing the pain from my chest to my scalp. I couldn’t even remember the last time we talked. When Samuel busted in the door, he stole her. And the following days after, he stole me. Come to think of it, I hadn’t been alone with her since before his arrival. Since before she told me she didn’t care if Cameron lived or died. When she told me that she would stay or go, whichever I decided. Did she see the answer in my eyes then?
I sat up straight, remembering. The study. She spent more time in that study over the last couple of weeks than she did in bed. Rushing down the stairs, I slammed the door open and was relieved to see something, foreign to my eyes, in the center of the desk. Grabbing it, I saw it was a journal. But not one you bought at the store; this is one you made with your own two hands. This one people put hours and hours of work into. The cover had both sketches and patches of fabric, jean fabric, a small photo of us that night at Maria’s tucked into it. My lips tilted upward, despite the feeling like my chest was being put into overdrive. I let my hands trail over the fabric and I let my eyes close, knowing she did this. For who, me or her, I was uncertain. I finally let myself read the words on the cover. YOU, ME, & HER: Poems by Annie Miller.
Without the book leaving my hands, I sat in the chair behind the desk. I let my fingers trace her name, over and over again, until I memorized the pattern. Then my anger took over. I didn’t want her poems. I didn’t want to read her poems. She should have been here. She should have read me her words her damn self. Clenching my jaw, I flung the book of poems back onto the desk and stormed out of the room.
I headed straight into the gym, foregoing stretching, I jumped right onto the treadmill, choosing the highest speed and the steepest incline. She left. She was gone, out of my life forever.
Good for her.
Good for me.
Good for everyone.
I pushed my legs harder and faster until my feet were as far up on the track as they could go. Sweat poured off of my skin but I ignored it, letting it fall where it wanted to go.
When my limbs didn’t want to cooperate with me anymore, I turned off the machine and headed back upstairs for a shower. My hands were shaking, whether from the uneasiness settling in the pit of my stomach or from the adrenaline, I wasn’t sure but I was betting on the former.
I showered with my eyes shut, reaching for a towel when I was done. When I opened my eyes, I realized I grabbed the wrong towel. It was Annie’s towel, the one she used to dry her hair. “Fuck,” my heart, body, and mouth hissed.
I dressed as quickly as possible and was out of the house as soon as I could manage it. The memories of her in that house so loud, I could barely concentrate. The way her eyes would follow me as I dressed for the day or undressed at night. Her stupid cereal sitting in the cupboard right next to the coffee filters and grounds. The kitchen table where I broke down her resolve and she told me her truths. The front door where she almost sliced my ear open after I disappeared on her the first time. I had to get out of the house before I turned into a deranged man, throwing things like they had any control in her staying or going. No, that was me. That was all on me.
This is what I asked for. This is what I wanted. For her. She was better off without me, without my life holding her back, or masking her in darkness.
The car wasn’t any better. I missed her eyes on me. I ached for her fingers to reach over and fold themselves in mine. I missed the small smiles she afforded me, and I missed her glare. I missed her frown and her pouty lips. I missed everything. I didn’t have anything to do, seeing as I had canceled all meetings or delegated anything of importance to Nolan since Samuel was in town. But now he was gone and so was she.
Before I even knew it, I was driving toward Hank’s. As soon as I saw it come into view, I knew why. Cameron. She didn’t care about him anymore. She didn’t care if I killed him, locked him up in the cellar for the rest of his miserable life, or if I let him go. He wasn’t worth a simple thought of hers any longer. I parked my car behind the building, knowing if someone said the wrong thing to me today, I’d make a mess and then I’d have to clean it up.
I sat in this exact spot months ago, after driving a blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty queen to my house and locking her away for the night. I planned on killing him then, and I’d planned on doing the same thing today. But just like that night months ago, something was stopping me and I wasn’t sure what it was.
If I went in there now and killed him, it wouldn’t be for her, it would be because of her. The only thing I wanted other than seeing her one last time was her to get her justice. This man took a life, took a life precious to her, and twisted the perception of it, making it seem like it was her fault she was killed. My anger would last for a total of ten minutes, but he deserved worse than me pounding his skull into the concrete. He deserved far, far worse.
I pulled out my phone, hitting the number one. My emergency number.
“Please don’t tell me you got yourself shot.”
I chuckled at the groan in her voice.
“No bullet holes, I promise.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “But I do have to ask for a favor.”
“Is it illegal?”
“Not your part.”
She grunted. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“That brother of yours,” I said, slowly. The girl was protective over him. “He’s still got the same phone number?”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she grumbled a reluctant, “Yes. Should I even ask?”
“Probably not.”
“Is this dangerous for him, for my brother?”
I thought about that. No. If my plan worked and if Ezra was as good as a lawyer as his sister was a doctor, then Cameron would rust inside a jail cell. If my plan didn’t work, he’d remain rotting in Hank’s cellar. “No.”
“Alright,” she conceded after sucking in a deep breath. “I’ll let him know to expect your call. If anything happens to my brother…” she warned, her voice the coldest I’ve heard it, and she did threaten to kill me once or twice since our first meeting.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said begrudgingly. “Bodily harm.”
After I hung up with Lily, I pulled out of the parking lot. I drove the thirty minutes back to the house and locked myself in my study, my shaking hands gripping her book of poems.
I let my fingers trail over the cover, over the letters in her name. For minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours, I told myself I was going to flip open the cover and see what was waiting for me there. I fell asleep before I grew the courage. I woke up in the middle of the night, reaching out. Reaching for something that wouldn’t be there.
Placing the book still gripped in my hands on the desk, I left it behind, grabbing a beer from the fridge and letting myself out of the back door. The one place no memory of Annie would assault me. I never got around to showing her the back yard which was almost another world entirely. Maybe it was because I knew she wasn’t here to stay or maybe because I needed just one part of this place that wasn’t tainted by her.
The back yard was so much more than just a back yard. It took up most of the acres on this land, with its house-sized pool, half a dozen exotic trees, and a deck that was almost as big as the entire floor plan inside. It was beautiful. Beautiful and unique and rare. And I was a little bit in love with it. I had one housekeeper come and take care of it discreetly because I never indulged in it. It made my life seem lighter than it was. It was a falsity. It was a farce.
I wish she was a falsity. I wish I had dreamed her up. I wish I wasn’t in love with her. The lies eased my mind even though I knew they were lies. I’d never give up a second I had with her, damn the eternal pain.
For an entire week, I slept outside, in a canopy that I’m surprised didn’t snap from my almost two-hundred-pound frame. Each day, I was in the house for an hour, at most. Enough to grab a beer and stare at that book from the girl who was off somewhere, my heart in her clasp.
I lasted ten days. Ten days until I couldn’t take it anymore. I missed her so much. So damn much. I needed her words. I needed her mind and her heart.
Storming into the study, I slammed the door shut behind me, and all but collapsed in the chair. My hands were shaking and my breaths were coming out in harsh, fast puffs.
One poem a day, I decided. I could ration her words. The book had to be at least two hundred pages. If I only read one page a day, I’d have something new from her for a long time. Long enough time for me to forget her, or realistically, to patch up the hole in my chest so it no longer bled.
I flipped the book open until I got to the very last page, the very last poem. I took one last deep breath before I let my eyes look at her words. It was a poem called “Love.”
I read the lines once. Twice. Three times. A hundred times. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
She loved me. I planned on breaking my own heart, that was no big deal, I just didn’t realize that hers was also in the conversation.
I flipped the book closed, squeezed my eyes shut together. After a moment, I opened the book up and flipped to the first page, devouring every single word she left for me.
* * *
“What do you mean, he’s sitting outside of your apartment?” Samuel asked from the other side of the phone.
Ditching my bowl of cereal in the kitchen, I walked to the two windows of my apartment. A week had passed since my first ever girl’s night and the realization that Hector was still in love with me. He still was in my life, silent but still present.
I peeped around the curtains to see him sipping on a cup of coffee. I had become well accustomed to him being parked across the street. Every morning, he was there with a cup of coffee in his hand and he wouldn’t leave that spot until I left the apartment for the day. And when I got home each night, he would show up momentarily. He, I thought, was learning my schedule just as much as I was learning his.
In a week, I had seen a glimpse of him every morning when I woke up and every night before I fell asleep. I didn’t see those brown eyes, so although I was happy he hadn’t completely forgotten about me, I felt like I was being robbed, nonetheless.
“Exactly what I said,” I told Samuel, my eyes glued on his father from a distance. “He’s here in the morning. He’s here at night. But he just sits in that damn car. He never looks. He doesn’t ever approach me. I don’t know what he’s doing.”
I had thought about just going over to his car and demanding what the hell he thought he was doing. But I knew this was something that he would have to figure out for himself. It wasn’t loving me that scared him. Those brown eyes told me way before his own lips did that I had his heart. This was his own struggle. It really wasn’t about me at all. This was about him handing his heart over when he’s done it before and paid a steep price for it.
So, I let him be. I watched him when he wasn’t watching me and that had to be enough for now.
“Talk to him, Samuel. Don’t be a dick, either. He needs you.”
Samuel chuckled at my serious tone and I couldn’t fight a smile. The Rivera men had the kind of effect on me. “Your wish is my command, Mama.”
I rolled my eyes even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Would you stop calling me that?”
“You think I’m bad, now?” I could just picture the devilish grin he was sporting. “Wait until the wedding.”
“Goodbye, Samuel,” I sing-songed, ignoring him.
When I walked into the shelter hours later, Jessica greeted me. “Anything yet?” she asked, her eyes as hopeful as a Disney princess.
I shook my head. “Radio silence.”
She pursed her lips up in disappointment and I swatted her ass. “We have work to do. No time for sulking.”
I started to walk away, toward Rachel’s office where I usually locked my stuff in while I was here but Jessica grabbed my arm. “I actually have something to talk to you about.”
I turned around to look at her. Her wide eyes and beaming smile gave me pause. What did she have up her sleeve? I squinted my eyes up at her suspiciously.
She grabbed my arm again and pulled me down the corridor. We passed her office and then Rachel’s and then Eliza’s. There was a fourth door that was unmarked. The door was shut and there was no light behind it.
“What is this?” I heard myself wonder aloud.
Her hand wrapped around the doorknob and she looked at me one more time before twisting the doorknob. At the last second, before the door moved, she shot me a wink over her shoulder. And then, she all but pushed me into the darkened room. The lights came on in an instant and balloons, confetti, and Rachel and Eliza filled the room, excitement in the air. I looked from three smiling faces to the banner hanging from the ceiling. It read: Welcome to the Team.
My eyes bounced between the three of them, smiles lining each of their faces. “What is happening?”
“You’re hired,” Jessica said, clapping.
“What do you mean, I’m hired? I didn’t even apply. I’m just a volunteer.”
It was Eliza who pinned me with a lo
ok. A look that held me captive. “A volunteer helps people, Annie Miller. You save them.” Her eyes shone with tears as she mouthed so only I could see, “You saved me.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. Rachel stepped forward, a pile of papers in her hands. “You have a degree in Social Work. You’ve worked with us and these women twice now. There’s no reason you shouldn’t make a career out of it. All you have to do is sign these papers and you’re officially a part of our team.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered aloud as I took the papers from Rachel.
“Say, yes, dummy.”
I shot Jessica a dirty look but she wasn’t the least bit fazed.
I smiled. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.”
After all of us ate pizza and ice cream, I followed Rachel into her office to sign papers. “Your schedule might be a little bit crazy. I work mornings, Jessica works afternoon, and Eliza covers the night shift. I’d like for your normal hours to overlap Jessica and Eliza’s shift. I was thinking two to ten. That way it covers your self-defense classes, it’s eight hours a day so you’ll be able to get forty hours a week in, and I’d like Eliza to have the help to make sure everyone is settled for lights out at ten.”
“That’s perfect because I don’t want to give up my job at the range.”
She nodded, taking the papers away from me.
“It’s okay for you to walk home that late?”
I shrugged. “I can take care of myself and if I can’t, I always have a little friend who will.”
She knew I was talking about my gun because she laughed. I had convinced her to come to the range and learn how to shoot. As soon as she walked in, Matt snatched her up before I could get out of my office. He was a disgrace to his own business.
“She’s happily married,” I had announced when I saw him pulling her hair back so she could put on her safety goggles. “And who knows what diseases you’re carrying in your pants.”
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