Chapter 19
On Monday night the universe flips the bird to my silent plea when, three glasses of wine into my new nightly drinking ritual, my doorbell rings.
Hunter is out doing god only knows who or what, so I’m left to stumble out of my chair and answer it. And I’m not pleased at what I find waiting on the other side of the door.
Madison stands on my doorstep in teetering heels and a tight, red dress that leaves little to the imagination, her blond hair piled carefully atop her annoyingly perfect head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we placed an order for a conniving bitch,” I say by way of greeting and dismissal, starting to swing the door closed. Madison levels a glare at me and sticks her foot in the door, preventing me from slamming it in her face.
“If you care about Bryce at all, you’ll want to listen to what I have to say,” she snaps.
I pull the door open angrily. “And if you cared about Bryce, you’d leave him alone and go crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of,” I retort hotly.
Madison folds her arms across her chest smugly, still leaving her foot in the door. “I’m his fiancée,” she reminds me. “You, on the other hand, are confusing him. He’s a mess, no thanks to you and your boyfriend.”
And despite myself, guilt weighs on me. “What do you mean, he’s a mess?” I ask tensely, not even bothering to correct her about Alessandro.
“Seeing you two the other day, reacting the way he did, it bothered him so much he can’t stop talking about it, thinking about it. He convinced something didn’t heal properly, that he’s having some sort of aftereffect that’s going to give him an aneurysm or something,” she spits angrily.
I narrow my eyes at her appraisingly. “You’re not worried about Bryce,” I reply accusingly. “This is about the wedding, isn’t it?”
She throws her hands in the air. “Of course it’s about the wedding,” she says sharply. “He wants to postpone it, for fuck’s sake! Until he’s sure nothing is wrong. At least, that’s what he says. But I think he’s just waiting to remember something. And I am not going to —”
“What, let him out of your trap?” I cut her off with a laugh. “Of course not. Couldn’t have him coming around and realizing you’re only marrying him for his money.”
“I’m not only marrying him for his money,” she replies with deadly calm, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “You’ve fucked him, Sera. So you know how good he is. Why would I give that combination up?”
My palm itches with a desire to smack the smug smile off of the bitch’s face. She’s a special kind of fucked up to care more about her wedding than the health of the man she’s marrying, not to say anything about his happiness. But tipsy as I am, I rein myself in, knowing it will only hurt Bryce if we fight.
“Yes, I know how good Bryce is. In a way you never will. And I don’t know how you found out where I live,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “But get the fuck out of here and don’t ever come back.”
Madison straightens up, laying one last icy glare on me. “I’ll go,” she accedes. “But if you come near Bryce again it will be the last thing you ever do. You are not going to stop me from marrying him. Even if I have to force him down to the courthouse tomorrow.”
I’m so disgusted I can barely look her in the eye without losing it. “Do you even love him?” I can’t help asking.
And she laughs. The bitch laughs. “Who needs love when he’s as rich and good looking as he is? And he’s so eager to please. So don’t even think about trying anything. I’ve got that man wrapped around my little finger, among other things,” she says with an evil glint in her eye. “Just stay. The. Fuck. Away.” She turns on her heel and marches down the hall.
I slam the door as hard as I can, rattling the frames on the walls. I walk back to the dining table where I’d placed my wine glass, gripping it nearly to the point of breaking as the anger boils over inside me. And before I know what I’ve done, I fling the glass into the kitchen, shattering it on the fridge, where the dark, red liquid drips ominously down the stainless steel.
I pace in front of the window wall angrily. A glance at the clock tells me it’s too late to call Allie. And I decide immediately to stick to my first instinct and stop talking to Emily until this is all over. Because despite not wanting to give Madison the satisfaction of knowing it, I just want to hide from all of them and wait for it all to pass me by.
But what I really want more than anything right now is to punch something. Even though it’s after nine o’clock at night. There’s only one place I can think of to do that. And maybe it’ll be exactly what I need to exorcise my demons. Or exercise them. Either way is fine with me.
I don’t bother cleaning up my mess. I simply grab my keys, wallet, and phone, calling for a cab on my way downstairs.
It’s not until I’m dropped off in front of the gym where Bryce taught me self-defense that I realize this may have been a stupid, drunken idea. But somewhere deep inside I can’t shake the feeling that this is where it started. Where he drew the line, asked that I choose him with all of me. And this might be where I can take that part of me back, so I can just get on with my life. It’s worth a shot, anyway. And if it doesn’t work, maybe I’ll at least get out some frustration.
I take a deep breath and go in, striding confidently toward the guy behind the front desk. He’s big and bulky and covered in tattoos, much the same as the few guys scattered around the gym.
“Hey,” he greets me. “What can I do for you?”
I chew on my lip self-consciously. “I have to ask you for something. And it’s going to be weird.”
Turns out it wasn’t so weird, and front desk guy has me set up in the room with the mats, a freestanding punching bag, and a pair of boxing gloves in no time. He leaves me to it with a grin and a shake of his head, and I wonder what kind of shit goes down here that he didn’t even bat an eyelash at my request.
I throw my things into a corner and use a hair tie to pull back my long, wavy hair. I’m suddenly thankful I’d already changed for bed into capri yoga pants and a loose T-shirt.
I slip the gloves on, tightening the laces like he showed me, and square off in front of the massive black bag. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, picturing Madison’s face. And I punch. And again. And again. Until I’m sweating and breathing heavily.
I step back to take a break. And once I’ve caught my wind, I let all the sorrow, all the angst, all the fear I’ve felt these last months pour out of me in an attack of such intensity that, were I in my right mind, would scare even me.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” I practically jump out of my skin, whirling around to the voice that came from the door. My jaw practically hits the floor when I see Bryce, leaning against the frame, the casual tone of his greeting betrayed by the tense set of his jaw, the downturn of his gorgeous mouth.
And I’m too tired, too emotional for this. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I sputter, still winded, ripping off the gloves. Bryce pushes himself up, striding slowly toward me.
“I could ask you the same thing. How do you even know about this place?” he asks. “You’re not exactly their usual clientele.” I look at him, bewildered on so many levels. I shake my head, unable or unwilling to answer. Thankfully, he doesn’t press, but he looks at me silently for a full minute. “Madison came home angry tonight. And I got out of her that she went to see you for a little chat.”
I snort derisively. “That’s one way to put it,” I scoff. “I’d call it delusional ranting threats from a scheming bitch.” He looks thoroughly confused and it makes me laugh. “Did she tell you she just dropped by for tea and scones and to make sure my invitation to the wedding hadn’t gotten lost in the mail?”
He stops in front of me, looking down at me disapprovingly. The proximity is more than I can handle, and my head swims. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t really need to. I told her she had no right to disturb you. That you’d been through enough,” he replies coolly.
“Damn fucking straight,” I say emphatically, my anger clearing my senses. “But I didn’t need you to track me down to make sure she didn’t hurt my feelings. I’m a big girl. I’ll get over it.”
I make to step back, but he grabs my wrist, holding me in place. His tight grip betrays the emotion stirring under his cool exterior.
“Why here?” he demands. The intensity radiates from every pore of him, the heat from his fingers sizzling up my arm. I want to ask him to stop touching me, but the masochist in me never wants it to end. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, and I can’t stop it. Unable to rein it in, my composure finally slips.
“Because I’m torn in pieces again,” I sob. “And this time I choose me. It’s the only choice I have left.” His eyes go wide, staring into the distance, and his hand springs open. I pull my wrist to my chest, rubbing it with my other hand as if it could remove the effect he’s had on me.
“Torn in pieces …” he mutters, his eyes glassy. He looks over at me, his eyes focusing rapidly. “I won’t settle for anything less.”
My heart stops in my chest and all the breath goes out of me. “Yes,” I breathe. “That’s what you said to me here. That if I chose you it had to be with all of me. That you wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
“Yes,” he agrees, his stare going glassy again, his eyes unfocused. “I was teaching you to defend yourself.” His eyes snap back again, and he steps forward, closing the distance between us. “Sera …”
Before I can even take a breath, his mouth is on mine, the familiar feel of his warm lips, the taste of his breath clouding my senses. I react instinctively, leaning into him. His hands find my hair, tugging the hair band out so he can run his fingers through the tangled waves.
It takes all of my strength to push him away. “No.” And my quiet protest causes a shift in him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I …” he stutters and stops, clearly at a loss. Clearly horribly confused.
“It’s just a reflex,” I respond wryly. “It will pass.”
He shakes his head. “No,” he objects. “That was an actual memory.” His eyes meet mine. “A complete one. But it’s like … looking at a small piece of a big puzzle that isn’t there.” The sorrow in his voice practically incapacitates me. And despite my own pain I find myself wanting to comfort him. But I remind myself he’s not mine to comfort anymore. And despite coming into his first real memory of me in the ten months since his attack, it’s one of the worst ones he could remember. Because it’s a reminder of the day he thought I was still trying to dick him around, not realizing how much I was already in love with him. Not that I’m sure I realized it then, either.
“Go home,” I respond dully. “Fuck your fiancée. It’ll make you feel better. And forget about puzzles and memories. They’ll just drive you mad.” I grab my things from the corner and make for the door. Under my breath I mutter, “Trust me, I should know.” He huffs a sad laugh and I know he’s heard me. But he doesn’t try to stop me as I leave.
The next night I go to Allie’s after work, unable to bear the thought of another miserable night of drinking. Plus, I figure Hunter will be happy to have the place to himself for a change.
And bouncing baby Brian on my lap is just about the only thing that’s made me feel halfway normal in a while. I’ve finished catching Allie up on all the latest between tummy tickles and cooed adoration of Brian’s cherubic cheeks.
“So what now?” Allie asks. I look up at her. She looks exhausted.
“Well, you could go take a nap while I hang out with this handsome little guy,” I reply, tapping the baby on his adorable little nose.
Allie smiles. “Thanks, but I don’t think I could sleep right now if I tried. I can only sleep when it’s least convenient,” she responds drily. “It’s a whole thing.”
“If you say so,” I shrug.
“Seriously,” Allie presses. “Are you going to be okay?” I sigh heavily and set Brian down in his bouncy chair, rocking it lightly with my foot to soothe him.
“Of course,” I mutter. “I’ll be fine.”
“Fucked up, insecure …” Allie starts.
“Neurotic and emotional,” I finish. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand at her dismissively. “Their wedding is in two months, Al. It’s practically a done deal. And I’m so over it all. Hopefully, now that Madison has had her say they’ll leave me alone.”
“But what if they don’t? You should really …”
“Hey, so, Hunter’s gay,” I interrupt, desperate to change the subject. Allie’s mouth pops open.
“When did you find that out?” she demands. I internalize a smug high five with myself for successfully changing the subject with zero tact.
“Just a few days ago,” I assure her. “He’s bringing his boyfriend home for dinner this Friday.”
“Wow,” she mouths. “That’s big.” I nod.
“I was pretty thrilled he trusted me enough to tell me,” I admit. “It kind of explains a lot, actually. He’s worried about telling our dad, though. He said he didn’t want him to know at first, but he finally admitted he doesn’t want to have to keep it a secret forever, either. So, you know, I’m going to try to help him with that.”
“Does his mom know?” Allie asks.
“No, but he’s not worried about that part,” I respond. “I mean, I understand why he’s nervous. It’s his dad. I wish I could lend him my ability to not give a shit what my parents think.” Allie laughs.
“That would sure help,” she agrees. “But he’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
“It’s been good for me too, having him around,” I admit. “With my luck his boyfriend will be fabulous, and they’ll be getting married and I’ll be all by myself again.”
Allie reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’ve always got us, babe,” she assures me. I squeeze back, smiling.
“I know. Thanks,” I reply. But I suppress the urge to tell her it’s just not the same. And I wonder if I’ll ever have what Allie has. I look down and Brian is happily sleeping in his chair, sucking on the back of his sweet, pudgy little fist. I decide in that moment that, if nothing else, I’m going to be the best auntie there ever was.