Chapter 9: Moving Forward

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Melissa

Work... work... work. I’ve done everything to bury myself in my marketing business, fighting with all I have to escape the pain of this gaping hole in my chest. A local strip mall is hosting a spring promo event, and several of the businesses have combined forces to do an inflatable playground for children with a bounce house and games, balloons and a tiny petting “zoo,” consisting of rabbits, a few goats, a pot-bellied pig, and litter of kittens they hope to give away.

It’s a solid week of work, collecting the various logos and nailing down exactly what type of promotion or event each shop will be hosting, locations and times, alternate arrangements for bad weather.

Sitting at my laptop, typing out the various press releases and newsletter templates for the stores, my eyes drift to the pin board of wedding ideas still lurking on my desktop. One pin is an ivory satin dress with large lace panels forming the bodice. Another is a white, strapless chiffon with lots of layers and movement in the skirt. Perfect for a beach wedding...

“I hadn’t chosen my dress.” Heat fills my eyes, and I lean my head heavily on my hand.

The board also includes cake ideas, and I realize I’ve got to stop Aunt Bea working on the wedding cake. “Oh, god.” Another twist of pain.

Our engagement photograph is there, and the sight of me in his arms, soft lips touching my cheek, his dark hair moving in the breeze is almost too much. He doesn’t want this, my mind shouts. You don’t want this.

Standing I go to the kitchen for a glass of water. My mother has taken care of cancelling the roses, talking to the minister, the caterer, the musicians... Since we’d planned a beach wedding, we didn’t lose any deposits. All I lost was my heart.

On the counter is a flier design I worked up for Aunt Bea. She wants to try decorated cake doughnuts in her shop. As old fashioned and out of touch with technology as she is, she still keeps up with the latest cooking trends. She’s also addicted to the cooking channel.

Glancing at my calendar, I see it’s Thursday. Has it been a whole week since Dex’s party? Since that crushing day? Derek did not leave his key. He also did not take my necklace. It’s back around my neck, actually, and every night I get a lengthy text from him detailing everything he did that day.

It’s pretty routine info, and the only one I found interesting was when he made a point of telling me he was crashing with Stuart and Mariska while Star and her daughter stayed in his condo alone.

My hand instinctively moves to my midsection as I try to rub the cramp away. He knew I’d care about that. More heat in my eyes. All this information, all this thoughtful consideration... Why did it have to take such extremes to get us here?

An idea filters through my mind, and I pick up my phone.

Mom’s gentle voice greets me. “Are you doing okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I need to go to Baltimore.” The flier is in my hand, and I turn it over, thinking about what I’m doing. “Aunt Bea is starting a new product line, and I want to take pictures for her website. I’d also like to tell her in person about the wedding cakes. She’s done so much, I feel like I owe her a visit.”

“Oh, Melissa,” she sighs, and I want to hang up immediately. Every wedding detail has been reluctantly cancelled by my mother, and all with repeating “are you sures” the entire time.

I power on. “I’ll only be gone overnight. Would you mind keeping Dex?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” She’s smiling now. “I love keeping my grandson.”

Nodding, I slide my laptop into its sleeve. “He has Mom’s Day Out in the morning. I’ll let Hannah know you’ll pick him up.”

“Drive safe.”

We disconnect, and I place a quick call to Bea. Of course, she’ll be in the shop tomorrow. It’s a fantastic idea for me to drive up and take pictures for the website. She can’t wait to see me and show me her ideas for the groom’s cake, and when is Derek going to make up his mind? I dodge that last question and tell her I’ll be there by early afternoon. All that’s left is getting through another night alone.

Evening used to be my favorite time of day. Derek would be home, the three of us would be together. Now the prospect of sleeping in that king-sized bed, surrounded by his warm, lingering scent, with no strong arms to hold me... It’s become a little slice of hell for me to endure. Lately my endurance has moved to the couch.

Tonight, at least, I have something to focus on: packing.

* * *

Aunt Bea’s shop is located a block off the main foot-traffic route in downtown Baltimore. We’d had to work to get customers to make the detour for her pastries and gifts, but a few well-timed samples and surprise office freebies combined with her talent in the kitchen and my ability to spread the word paid off.

Her shop is full of customers when I arrive, and parking in front of the store, I think of how different coming to the city from this angle feels compared to how it was when I lived alone in the Reynolds mansion.

A dark thought tightens my stomach, the empty Reynolds mansion. Sloan is dead. Derek killed him, and somewhere, someone knows about it. Whoever that person is could be anywhere. Glancing over my shoulder, an involuntary shiver moves down my spine.

Derek’s nightly check in said they’d had a breakthrough in the case. It was unexpected, and he wasn’t sure he believed it. Apparently, the harasser sent a letter to Star at the condo. He’d said it was too long to text, but he’d know more tonight.

As much as I want to be indifferent, I’m on edge waiting to hear what’s happening, and hoping it doesn’t make his situation worse. My thoughts are distracted as I enter the store, and I make my way past the waiting customers to a side table.

“I’ve got your special cupcake! ” Aunt Bea nods to a little pastry on a small plate. It’s a tradition she started before I moved home, and even after I was in Wilmington, she would still send me special deliveries at the holidays. “Drunken buttered rum.”

Distractions vanish, my eyes widen as I check out the dark cake topped with white frosting and shaves of coconut flakes and pecans. “It looks amazing.”

A male customer curiously inspects my treat as I peel back the wrapper.

“It’s something new I’m trying,” she says, assembling a pink and white polka-dotted cardboard box. “Cooking channel.”

I grin and take a small bite. Rich buttery rum and spicy cinnamon fill my mouth. A hint of nutmeg, and I have to work to suppress a groan.

“How do I get some of that?” The man in the navy pin-stripe suit nods toward me with a wink.

His question is a bit vague, but Bea is on it. “Be my marketing genius and favorite customer.” She winks back at him. “Her fiancé is a very lucky man.”

His expression drops, and he orders red velvet. I wait until she’s finished with him and helped the nanny and kids behind him, and once they’re done, we’re momentarily alone.

“Good?” The petite, round baker hustles over to me. Her apron is stained with pink frosting, and I can’t resist teasing her.

“They think I’m so lucky, but they don’t know I’m your test subject.”

Leaning back, she crosses plump arms over her ample bosom. “As if I’d ever give you anything bad.”

I lunge forward to hug her. “You give me sinfully delicious treats.”

“Speaking of sinfully delicious, how’s Derek?” A nudge and a grin, and I glance down.

“He’s, umm... doing great.”

Her face turns serious, and she goes to the door. In a flash, she turns the “Back in ten minutes” sign around, flips the lock, and pulls down the shades.

“What happened?”

Damn. I’m stunned by both her quick response and her question. “We sort of had a... well...” Tears flood my eyes. I can’t believe I’m still crying like this. Grasping for control, I clear my throat. “We broke up.”

Concern lines her face, and she leads me to one of the small tables. “I can’t believe it,” handing me a napkin, “I saw you together. How is this possible? What did he say?”

Dotting my eyes, I look down at the paper cloth trying not to cry more. “It was me, actually. I broke it off.”

“What!?” Her voice is too high, and she collapses into the chair across from me. “Melissa, honey, you have got to explain this to me.”

My gaze stays fixed on my hands. “We wanted different things.” No, that’s not right. I shake my head and try again. “We have different ideas about what a relationship means. To me it’s a partnership, sharing, including each other. No secrets. To him it’s... not.”

“Can’t you find a compromise?” Her voice is urgent but gentle. “You’ve been married before. You know men... well... I mean—”

“That’s just it!” My eyes flash to hers. “I have been married before. It’s the whole reason I had to end it.”

Her grey eyebrows pull together. “You broke it off because of Sloan?”

“Because of what happened with Sloan. All the lies, the secrets. The double life. I married a man I thought I knew, and then it turned out... I didn’t know him at all.” I pause for breath then quietly add. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Bea studies the table in front of me a few moments before taking my hand. “Then why do you still wear this?” The dark blue sapphire ring is on the third finger of my left hand.

My lips tremble as tears threaten, and I move it under my thigh. “I don’t know.”

It’s a lie. I haven’t been able to take it off because no matter how my insides twist and fight, it’s the last piece of evidence holding me together. I’m afraid if it’s removed, all my insides will bleed out.

We don’t speak, but I can feel her studying me. I can feel myself unraveling in front of her, and I wish she’d say something.

“Sloan Reynolds was a sneaky young man.” She leans back in her chair, and her tone grows thoughtful. “Very slick and always smiling, but always being naughty when no one was looking. I don’t know where he got it. His father was a good man. His mother was a bit... materialistic, but she wasn’t cruel or vindictive. Still, for whatever reason, their son was attracted to the darkness more than the light.” 

Slowly, my eyes move up to hers. I need to hear this. “You know, I caught him stealing from my register when he was about fifteen.” She nods, hands across her midsection. “Why the son of the town’s richest family would need to steal, I don’t know. He saw me catch him, too, and I’ll never forget his wicked grin. Slipped that money in his pocket and walked right out the door as if daring me to call him on it.”

“Did you?” I whisper.

“Of course I did! I called Jackson right away and told him his boy had taken forty dollars right out of my cash register.”

“What happened?”

Exhaling, she shakes her head. “His father thought it was funny, a boyish prank. He apologized for Sloan and said he’d send the money right around, and sure enough, his driver came by before the end of the day with the money and a little gift.”

“What are you saying?” I wait for her next words as if they’re the key to some incredible mystery.

“The average male is not born ready to share every thought in his head.” She smiles at me now. “Half of them aren’t even sure what to make of the thoughts in their heads beyond food and sex.”

“Derek’s not like that,” I say under my breath, leaning back.

“Derek was alone for how long after his wife died?”

“Six years.” Reaching out, I trace the wood grain with my fingernail.

“And he works in the security business. Investigations. Things that require the utmost secrecy.”

My jaw tightens. “Yes.”

“Derek Alexander is a war hero, am I right? A commanding officer? His friends and coworkers trust him? Vouch for his trustworthiness?”

“Of course.” Pressure is building inside me, pushing upward in my chest.

“Honey,” she exhales a chuckle. “Give the man a chance to mess up once before you throw him out of your life. Especially one as handsome and clearly devoted to you as that one.”

“You don’t understand. It was more than once, and the secrets he kept were...” I can’t tell her the whole story. “They were huge.”

“Another woman?”

“No!” The very idea burns in my stomach.

Bea’s lips curl at my response. “Have you heard from him?”

“He texts me every night... telling me everything.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Her warm tone moves through me like a wave, and I know what has to happen. The truth is clear as a bell. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.

“Love is a risk,” she says. “Putting your heart out, making yourself vulnerable again is scary. I can only imagine how gun-shy you must feel after your last experience. But trust me, you picked the right man this time. Everyone can see it.”

I’m on my feet and at her counter collecting my things before her last words are even uttered. “Do you mind if I reschedule our meeting?”

“Only if it’s for the reason I hope it is.”

“I’ll call you next week.”

* * *

Baltimore is two and a half hours southwest of Princeton. Somehow I manage to make the drive in two, my mind racing through everything Aunt Bea said to me the entire way. I don’t call, I don’t think or even give myself a chance to second-guess. Her words seared through my fears and doubts, making even my anger seem incredibly silly. If my mother were in the room, I know what her diagnosis would be: projection.

Fear, gun-shyness, whatever was going on, it’s over, and now I’m sitting in my car looking up at the Alexander-Knight office building. My heart beats so fast it hurts. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s five-thirty.

“Please be here,” I whisper.

Hopping out, I run inside and press the elevator button. It takes an eternity to finally open at the bottom floor. Dashing inside, I repeatedly press the button for the top floor. Finally the doors close, and another eternity as it slowly starts to rise.

Tapping my foot, I pace the small box. “Come on!” I growl, until finally the movement stops. A pause and the doors slowly open.

Running out into the breezeway, I head straight for the glass double-doors and push through. Nikki’s not at her desk, and I only briefly wonder if she’s even still working here. I’m headed straight for his office, but before I turn the handle, I stop. I’m breathing fast, and I’m actually trembling.

Wiping my palms down the sides of my jeans, I scrub my hair with my fingertips, hoping it looks pretty and not smashed from riding in the car all day. I’m wearing a red sweater, which is a relief. His favorite color. Hand on my twisting stomach, I take a deep breath and open the door.

The sight of him hits me like a freight train. He’s behind his desk in his usual charcoal suit and tie. Elbows bent, his forehead is lined. A dark brown wave has fallen on one eye, and his lips are in a firm line making his square jaw stand out attractively. I wonder for a half-second what’s got him so focused. His phone is in his hand, and he appears to be texting.

I don’t know what to say, so I clear my throat softly. Steel blue eyes snap up to mine, and a rush of energy floods my body.

“Hi,” I say softly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Phone down, he’s out of his chair and crossing the room to me at once. Just before he reaches me, he stops, hesitating. We’re so close, his delicious scent teases my nose, his warmth hints at my skin.

“You never disturb me.” The low ripple of his voice squeezes my heart, and I’m so light I’m either going to lift off the ground or faint. “I was just texting you... What are you doing here?”

He’s holding back. I see his palm twitch, and I can tell he’s trying to decide if it’s okay to touch me.

“I needed to see you. I needed to tell you I was wrong. I’m sorry. I want you to please come home.”

With every word, his brow relaxes more, the shine of love grows stronger in his eyes. I’ve barely said the word home when I’m swept up in his embrace. The strong arms I’ve been craving for weeks hold me tight, secure, and exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“Melissa,” he breathes, kissing my temple, my cheek, until at last our lips crash together, tongues find each other and desire tickles low in my stomach.

A little noise, somewhere between a laugh and a moan slips out, and I’m grasping his shoulders, his hair, his face, trying to pull him to me as hard as I can. I want our bodies touching. I want every cell melting together. I want to be so wrapped up in him, we’re like he said, it’s impossible to know where I begin and you end.

“You’re back,” he breathes, kissing me again and again.

“I didn’t hold out very long.” I’m in heaven as his soft lips, that lovely, scratchy beard trace a line into my hair, behind my ear, until he stops and takes a long, deep inhale.

“It felt like a lifetime.” Chills skate across my body. “I want to take you home and make love to you.”

“Let’s go.” I grip his arms smiling. “Or here is good...”

My back is against the wall of his office, and he kisses me roughly. Heat floods between my thighs, and the only thing left is for our bodies to be reunited. I ache for it.

He pulls away, and our eyes meet. His are so full of love, but there’s something else, something breaking. As we hold each other, his expression looks like he’s being torn apart, and I’m instantly afraid.

“Derek, what’s wrong?”

“Like I said, I was sending you a text to tell you...” His arms surround me, pulling me tight against him. His head is against my shoulder, and he only holds me. “Oh, god, Melissa.”

I grasp his broad shoulders, trying to move him back so I can see his face. “Baby, what is it?”

“Just let me hold you. I need to hold you right now.” His voice is muffled, and I swallow the knot in my throat. His lips move to my jaw as I hear noises from outside the office. They’re loud and pushy, almost as if a team of individuals is forcing their way inside.

“What’s this about?” Stuart’s voice is stern.

“Derek Alexander?” A male snaps back.

I feel him tense in my arms. His head lifts, and he looks deep into my eyes. “Listen to me. I love you so much. You’re my home and my family. You’re all that’s ever mattered to me—”

The office door slams open, and men in dark blue uniforms surround us. Stuart’s voice follows them, demanding answers. Derek’s arms are ripped from my body and pulled behind his back, but his eyes never leave mine. One of the men begins to speak.

“Derek Alexander, you are under arrest for the first-degree murder of Sloan Reynolds. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law—”

“NO!” I scream, grabbing his arm. “Stop it! STOP!”

“Miss, I need you to step back.” A sharp voice orders me. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.”

Tears blind me. “Leave him ALONE!” I shout, and my hands shake as my fingers fumble to the cold metal on his wrists.

“Melissa,” Derek’s voice is in my ear, his face at my temple. “I have to go.”

Pulling back, I find his eyes. Heartbreak is in them, and tears spill onto my cheeks. “I can’t...” My voice trembles and breaks. “I can’t let this happen...”

“Stay with Stuart.”

Stuart is behind me holding my shoulders as the officer finishes. “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

“Yes,” Derek answers, and my knees give out.

Stuart catches me. “Hang on,” he says, and I grab him, trying to find my balance.

“Take care of her,” Derek says.

Stuart nods. “I’ll get her to Mariska and be right down.”

It’s the last they’re able to say before the group of cops escorts him out of the building.