by K B Cinder
We skipped the wake and headed to her place so she could grab more clothes. I waited in the car as a precaution while she headed inside with a guard, returning moments later with a bag and an eviction notice, Lil’s cockbag son listing his mother’s house before her body was even in the ground.
The drive back to my place was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, though I doubted I would with the blood rushing in my ears, the wheels of revenge already turning full speed ahead. I couldn’t believe someone could be so cold, but it was par for the course when it came to Gordon.
When we reached the penthouse elevator, I excused the guards for the day to have alone time with Kee. We hadn’t spoken more than a few words since I walked in the door the night before, but I saw the questions dancing in her eyes. Sensed the words on her lips.
I made a conscious choice staring at Lil’s coffin, one I’d either celebrate a million times over or regret until my dying day, but it was one I had to make.
Stanley met us at the door with a single bark, the somber mood weighing on him as well. He seemed to grieve more than Lil’s own son. He wouldn’t even eat - a day I thought would never come for the fat bastard.
He marched back to the dog bed the guards brought early that morning, a white cloud cushion with bright red tassels, ones we knew Lil would love. He sank into it with a grumble and closed his eyes, his painted little toes sticking straight out.
“He’s lonely,” I noted as I pulled off my tie, throwing the scrap of silk on the console table. “We should get him a friend for when we’re out.”
Kee slid off a heel, the first wild tendrils of hair escaping the clip she’d secured them in. “A friend?”
“Another cranky little shit. They’re better in pairs. He could use some company. Misery loves it, remember?”
“It’ll have to wait until I find an apartment,” she said flatly, kicking off the other heel. “I still have to figure out everything with work and school.”
“Not necessary.” I shrugged out of my suit jacket, tossing it atop my tie. “The sooner he has a buddy, the better. It’ll help him.”
“Moving is going to be traumatic enough for him. Who knows where I’ll even find a place that accepts a dog with his bite history.”
“Right here.” I removed the cufflinks one by one, the golden orbs joining the rest of my clothing in a heap.
“I can’t afford this building,” she scoffed, striding over to scratch Stanley behind the ear. He growled and lifted his lip in warning but allowed the affection. “I can’t even afford this neighborhood. I might need to head out of the city entirely. But it’s okay. Maybe the suburbs will be better for him.”
“I meant this unit.”
A sharp inhale of breath was the only answer she gave, staring at me with her jaw dropped.
“Stanley likes the water views. Plus, I need an attack dog.” The goddamn buttons of the dress shirt were tiny, making undoing each a bitch. In the end, I popped off the last two rather than fumbling with them.
She looked between Stanley and me, the grouch still grumbling on his marshmallow mountain. “You want to keep him?”
I shrugged. “More so you, but yes.”
A tiny smirk touched her lips, one she abruptly flattened. “No one is my keeper.”
I chucked the dress shirt away, chest bared. “Good thing I have no intention of playing zookeeper.”
She didn’t share my playful spirit, her arms wrapping around herself for comfort. “What are your intentions? Leaving me behind again like a human breadcrumb?”
“Maybe I needed to in order to find my way back home.” I stepped toward her, but she inched away, walking barefoot into the living room.
“I don’t even know who you are.” She threw the words over her shoulder, laced with venom.
“I’m Ethan Barrett,” I introduced with a dramatic bow, the movement coaxing a snarl out of Stanley. “I’m the youngest of three boys. I hail from Briar, Maine. I have a knack for art, and I’m wild about a curly-haired woman with a big heart and an even bigger mouth.”
“Lucky her,” she spat, turning her back to me to look out at the water. It was a windy day, whitecaps dotting the blue as far as the eye could see.
“No, lucky me.”
I checked my watch.
Three hours.
I hadn’t meant for it to kick off on such an awful day, but with the train already barreling down the tracks, there was no stopping it.
“You’re still a stranger.”
“Am I?” I asked, walking behind her to study the sea over her shoulder, my face inches from hers.
She nodded, curls brushing my cheek. Her sweet scent danced around, a taste of home on my lips. Her hazel eyes didn’t budge, the windows to her soul closed to me as she stared straight ahead.
“I think you know more than you let on,” I accused in a whisper, brushing my lips on her exposed shoulder. “I have a gift for you.”
She turned away from the window, eyes searching mine. “I don’t want a gift.”
“You’ll want this one,” I insisted, lacing the fingers of my left hand in hers, the right one still trapped in a cast. “But you’ll have to wait a few more hours.”
Keely
The laughing call of seagulls woke me from a sound sleep, a marked difference from the silence I’d grown used to in the penthouse. I tried to ignore them, to flee back into the relative comfort of my dreams, before the wrongness of the sound chased me awake.
My eyes popped open before being blinded by piercing light, sun pouring through the behemoths that were more like walls than windows, two of which were pulled to the side, revealed as doors leading to a patio.
I was in the middle of Ethan’s bed, still wearing the black shift dress I’d worn to Lil’s funeral. Lil’s funeral? The thought was so wrong, so final.
I’d never get the chance to tell her about Ethan and I. To have her squeal and whack my arm with an I told you so for the record books. To share more laughs over wine. To feel the love from that heart of gold one last time.
I was disappointed not to see Jorge at the service, even after he tearfully said he couldn’t make it, a mandatory training session holding him in San Francisco. I selfishly wanted him there to lean on, needing his support. Instead, I said goodbye to our fine-wine on a Thursday, our special day no more.
I stretched my hands above, body stiff from sleep. I must have nodded off after leaving Ethan in the living room, wanting -no needing- time to myself. Time to reflect. Time to think.
He couldn’t reappear and expect everything to be okay, thinking a mystery gift would sew the broken pieces he left behind back together. He, more than anyone, should have understood he couldn’t buy his way into my good graces. Into my heart.
I studied the room as the feather-soft bed cradled me, white plaster walls soaring above, cathedral-height ceilings capped in glass. The room was simply styled in hues of gentle grey, the polar opposite of the man it belonged to. The man who had my head and heart embroiled in World War III.
A cool breeze drifted in the open balcony doors, coaxing me to sit up. Ethan was standing at the far end of the space, his back to me as he surveyed the landscape with his hands resting on the steel railing, the right one still partially shielded by a cast. A hand he broke fighting for me, intent on destroying the threat on my doorstep.
I rolled off the bed and wandered outside, the wind off the water below whipping my hair wildly. Ethan didn’t hear me coming, not turning until I was a heartbeat from his side.
“I guess I’m not so stealthy,” I mumbled, settling in beside him along the railing. The water ahead was churning violently as the wind ripped across it.
“You are,” he assured, blue eyes searching my face. “Your perfume, however, is a smoke signal.”
“Vanilla and white flowers,” I murmured, the notes forever my favorites. So much so that Dad had a custom perfume made when I graduated high school, a scent I still wore, a bottle delivered by Santa every Christmas ac
cording to the package.
He leaned into the railing, body rigid as his attention returned to the distance. A king at home in his castle. A king still retreating from me. “I love it. I always have.”
I was in knots, unsure what to think as I studied him. Anger and affection were battling for attention, one screaming for me to leave while the other coaxed me to stay. I’d waited days between texts when he was gone, hanging on each word, desperate to see him. And when he walked in the front door the night before, I didn’t have time to get mad or demand answers. I just needed him.
A dark shadow coated his jaw, hair a touch long at the collar, subtle reminders that he had been gone for three weeks. That he severed contact with me like a dead arm, circling back once or twice to nudge me, making sure I was still there. Still waiting.
But waiting for what? For him to come back like nothing happened? For things to return to normal? Newsflash: there was no normal. There was nothing to go back to.
“Who are you?” I blurted, needing to silence the voices in my head. I needed truth. Something to justify his actions. Anything.
“You know who I am,” he said softly. “The whole world knows who I am.”
I gritted my teeth. “Enough with the damn riddles. I want answers. Now. You owe me that much.”
His hands gripped the railing tightly, even the broken one, its freed fingers curled around the metal just as brutally. It hurt me just looking at it. “Ask away.”
“Why did you ask me to that event?” I demanded. It made no sense. It was the main reason he couldn’t be Ever. He never would have gone into the belly of the beast with someone he knew. Let alone someone who could be so easily identified. Most press offices in the city still had a dusty magazine lying around with my face inside.
“I didn’t mean to,” he admitted, focusing on the water for another moment before turning to me, his blue eyes finding mine with a calm I hadn’t expected. “The text went to the wrong person, but in the end, it ended up right where it belonged. That night was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The kindness of his words did little to soothe the stinging sucker punch of truth to the gut. He hadn’t felt the same. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. I deserved to know. I’d gone into that night thinking he wanted me, not another woman. “I’m not someone’s plan B.”
“You were never plan B,” he growled, fists balling at his sides. “You’ve always been the one I wanted, Kee.”
I gripped at the hem of my dress nervously as a snap of wind lifted it. “Always?”
He nodded, running his tongue along his inner cheek as he studied me. “Ever since I saw a pretty girl on a train with a nose ring and an edgy veggie bag.”
I cocked my head, unsure of what he was talking about. We met through a job offer at school. He’d needed a blog writer. After sending a writing sample through email, he hired me on the spot when we met for coffee. The rest was history. But none of it involved us meeting on a train.
“A pretty girl wearing a plum romper in the rain.”
Alright. He’d lost me completely. Maybe he was losing it himself. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but circles shadowed his eyes, hinting at sleepless nights.
“Not ringing any bells, huh?” he chuckled, stroking my cheek with the back of a chilled hand. “That’s okay.”
His fingers skimmed my jaw, thumb drifting across my lower lip. “My sweet little Plum. As beautiful as the first night I saw you.”
My heart was pounding, his blue eyes casting a spell on mine, and as convinced as I was that he was off his rocker, he had me hooked on every word. Every dip of his voice sent shivers down my spine. “Night?”
He leaned close, lips a breath from mine, a slight nod sending them brushing together. The first contact since he reappeared on the darkest day of my life so far, coming to my aid in true Ethan style. “A rainy night on the Red Line.”
I shook my head to break free, to clear the clouds he was creating. “You’re supposed to be answering questions, not making more.”
“You never wondered where I found you?” he pushed, his fingers extending to cradle my cheek, my body betraying me as I leaned into his touch. “Where that perfect writing opportunity came from?”
My stomach did a somersault at his question. “I thought one of my professors recommended me.” I was so used to them throwing my name to recruiters that it hadn’t crossed my mind to ask.
“Wrong.”
My mouth went dry, nerves rocketing through the stratosphere. “Wrong?” I repeated.
His thumb stroked my cheek. “I found you. Or maybe you found me? It doesn’t matter. A chance encounter on a train brought us to this point, Plum.”
“You…stalked me?” I choked out, flinching out of his grasp.
Oh my God. I fell in love with my stalker.
He rolled his eyes with a snort. “I got your name from your friends with a twenty-dollar bill, which, admittedly was mildly creepy, but I didn’t stalk you.”
Reggie and Sam. No surprise there. The pair went on to sell one another up the river, literally, their drug-peddling on campus earning them a stint in prison upstate. I was too stupid to pick up on it at the time, thinking they wanted to hang out because they liked me. As it turned out, they just wanted access to my rich friends and their parents’ credit cards.
“You hired me because you thought I was cute?” Great. Just how I wanted to win a damn job. I’d scrawl it at the top of every cover letter once I finished school.
“No, because I needed you,” he sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m insane, but you called to me that night. You still do, even across an ocean. You’re everything to me.”
“Why?” I asked, gnawing my bottom lip as I digested his words, everything I thought I knew about our relationship blowing up before my very eyes. “Of all the people on that train, why me?”
He rubbed his forehead with the half-smile that had always reduced me to jelly from the first time we met. “We don’t choose our muses.”
“Muses?” As soon as I said it, a rumble of dominoes fell in my mind, all leading to one concrete answer. I went to speak, but he held a finger to my lips, checking his watch as he shook his head.
“Enough talking. I have something to show you.” He led me inside by the hand, walking briskly from the bedroom to the living area.
My mind must have gone into system overload, nothing seeming to make sense, as the truth settled into place.
“TV on!” he barked, the big screen I’d struggled with for weeks coming to life.
“Seriously!?” I screeched. “That’s all I had to do?” I’d all but done the hokey-pokey to get the dang thing to work.
He laughed, a rich, warm sound I’d missed. “Feed 313.”
The channel changed to an aerial shot of the Louvre, night already leaving the city dark. The usual twinkling lights that lined its perimeter were dimmed, the pyramid at its center dark.
“Is this live?” I asked, but he didn’t reply, tipping his head toward the screen, imploring me to watch.
So I did.
One by one, the lamp posts came to life from left to right, purple bulbs replacing the standard yellow, violet lights as far as the eye could see. Once it reached the final post, the pyramid flashed a deep, purple hue.
By then, people were flocking to the area, the camera offering a perfect view of the action, unobscured as it took in the scene unfolding. In a matter of seconds, it seemed like hundreds of people were there, all eyes on the purple light show.
“What is this…?” I trailed, falling silent as gasps came from the crowd.
A flood of police officers rushed into the ruckus, angry shouts seeming to demand answers about what was happening, but soon they hushed too, everyone focused on the pyramid, a message projected on its side in white.
Happily EVER After Is Now
The crowd cheered, a chant in French breaking out that I couldn’t understand. I wanted to
turn and face Ethan, but stayed hooked to the screen, struggling to wrap my mind around the scene in front of me. “What’s going on?”
Ethan squeezed my fingers, prompting me to look at him, his shoulders lifted, an invisible weight seeming to be lifted from them as his blue eyes burned for me. “Our happily ever after starts now.”
Ethan
“You said…you aren’t…you are?” Kee sputtered, eyes bouncing between me and the television screen in shock, her knees knocking together.
I caught her before she hit the floor, arms hooking under hers as we came chest to chest. “Hang in there. We’re not finished yet.”
Her eyes whirled with questions as I steadied her before heading to the hall, her hand in mine while I plowed through every invisible wall I’d built during my ten years in Boston. It was time.
We approached the one room no other eyes had seen. The one place I was exposed. I punched in the door code, adrenaline leaving my hands unsteady as my fingers struggled over the keys. It was as if my body was sending out one final calvary before I surrendered.
“It’s 0902,” I informed her once my fingers found their strength. “My Nan’s birthday.”
I pushed the door open and nudged her inside before I lost the strength, baring my bones to my heart and soul. The moment I’d feared more than anything happening in front of me.
But the world didn’t stop. Life as I knew it wasn’t over. Instead, the constant knot in my chest was freed, something foreign flooding the space: hope.
Kee’s legs wobbled as she stepped forward, her hazel eyes seeming to double in size at what she was seeing.
In the center of the studio sat my latest piece, still held by the easel I’d created it on, my most intimate work meeting its inspiration face to face, a blooming iris in the throes of a storm, a woman cloaked in plum at the center of its petals, a familiar profile of chaotic curls peeking from beneath her hood.
