Chapter Forty
Dominic
Kristen pushes her pasta around. She hasn’t touched any of the garlic bread I made, either.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “They’re your favorite.”
“I know.” She sighs.
“Are you dieting?”
“Me?” She puts a hand on her chest. “Are you kidding? You know I have to eat.” And unlike many, she has a fast-burning metabolism that keeps her fashionably skinny.
“So what’s the problem?”
I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving. She braved the crowds to shop on Black Friday—shudder—and stayed with some friends a few nights.
“Nothing,” she answers quickly.
“Kristen. You’re a terrible liar.” I narrow my eyes. “Is it a guy?”
She chokes. “No! Of course not! No way. I’m too busy for guys.”
“Riiiight.”
She gulps down her wine, then suddenly asks, “Are you still mad at Liza…I mean, Elizabeth?”
I go still. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just…” She frowns, biting her lower lip. “I heard from Brian you went to Hawaii with her. You got my shirt and note, right?”
Placing my fork on the table, I lean back. “And?”
“I figured you wouldn’t do that if you were still upset with her.”
“It isn’t that simple.” I’ve been thinking about our last meeting and what she said then.
We won’t owe each other anything.
The more I think about it, the more it sounds like “We’re through.”
But I’m not sure what she believes she can give me to end it all.
“She texted me,” Kristen says.
“I didn’t know you guys had each other’s numbers.”
She shrugs. “I left her a note at an alteration shop I saw her coming out of. Since she came out empty-handed, I figured she’d dropped off some clothes there. So I asked the owner to give her a note.”
“I see. So what did Elizabeth say?”
Kristen clears her throat. “She told me to be careful, especially of people I trust.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Did she mention any specifics? Maybe some names?” Otherwise, it’s a weird thing to text.
“Yeah.” She squirms. “Andy.”
“Andy?”
She nods. “Cousin Andy.”
What the…? Elizabeth met him in Hawaii…
And I know with instant clarity that the reason she contacted Kristen was to warn her away from Andy, not “people.”
Before I can work it through, the intercom rings. Kristen jumps up from the table. After a moment, she says, “There’s a package for you.”
“At this hour?”
“Personal delivery, or so they say.”
My heart pounds.
Elizabeth.
No. Can’t be. If it were her, Kristen would say something.
Tolyan walks in, his gaze cold and emotionless. He’s dressed in a suit like at the airport, sans sunglasses. A team of two men carry a big, somewhat flat and rectangular item wrapped in Styrofoam and cardboard, and set it against a wall.
He signs a sheet of paper for one of the men and dismisses them. “Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure, sir,” they say in unison and leave.
“Kristen, can you give us some privacy?” I ask.
“But—”
“Now.”
She pulls her lips in, then nods and goes upstairs. I look up, making sure she enters her room. I don’t want her eavesdropping.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, a wary gaze on Tolyan.
“I thought you already heard from Elizabeth.”
“She hasn’t been in touch.”
Tolyan shrugs. “That”—he gestures at the wrapped item behind him—“is what matters the most to her. You said you wanted it, and she’s giving it to you. I know it’s not the same thing as taking it, but it should give you a similar satisfaction. You have it, she doesn’t.” He presses his thin lips together, as though suppressing laughter. But not with good humor. His eyes are full of mockery. “Now, leave her alone. You’re more than even.”
“You don’t know anything,” I say, hating his attitude. He’s behaving as though he’s superior, but what does he know about the history between me and Elizabeth?
“I know far more than you.” A corner of his mouth tilts up. “Do you think you built all this on your own? Do you think banks and investors conveniently appeared just in time to lend you money the few times you had cash problems? Do you honestly believe your sister just magically got all those scholarships and internships and opportunities so she could study what she wanted?”
My mind goes as blank as a sheet of paper. What the hell is Tolyan saying? My heart thunders as I try to process. I made my hatred clear ten years ago. If Tolyan’s right—no, there isn’t any if about it—why did Elizabeth do those things? And when I reappeared and reminded her of my intentions, why didn’t she say something?
She did try. But you hesitated.
Abruptly, I realize the cold and strange feeling I had at the time was fear.
Tolyan isn’t finished. “Both of you are little chicken shits, too proud and afraid to take what you want. At least she has a good reason—you’ve done enough. By now, she’s deleted you from her phone…and her life. Don’t contact her or come near her again. Or I’ll use your entrails for fish bait.” He takes a step closer, his eyes as flat as gravestones. “The Pacific is full of ravenous fish.”
“Wait—”
“A decade not enough to get the picture? Do I have to spell everything out?”
“You just threw a bomb in my face.”
“Should have been a Molotov cocktail.” Those dead eyes look around the condo appraisingly, then Tolyan walks out.
My legs unsteady, I stride toward the package and rip it open with my bare hands. The cardboard packing is exceptionally thick and tough, but it eventually falls apart under my ruthless fingers.
A portrait is unveiled before me. Elizabeth, younger and stunningly beautiful. As I knew her before. Her smile is so radiant, I’m drawn to it like a moth.
But her eyes…
They hold such tragedy—the heartbreaking, haunting tragedy.
I swallow, finally understanding. I misjudged her ten years ago. And I’ve continued to misjudge her. I’m the one who put that tragedy into her eyes.
Do you think you built all this on your own?
I run my gaze lovingly along her achingly beautiful face…the slightly stubborn line of her jaw…
I pause. Elizabeth isn’t the type to just give in. She told me more than once that she believed in making her own destiny.
Is this your way of dictating your fate, Elizabeth? Help me, give me the portrait that means so much to you, then walk away? If that’s the case, I reject your dictate. I’m going to create a new destiny for the two of us.
Elizabeth might’ve deleted me from her life. I haven’t deleted her from mine.
Nothing’s over until I say it’s over.
I pull out my phone and start texting instructions.