I’ll never forget the day he graduated from the academy.
Eddie in his dress blues, being sworn in, the pride and excitement I saw in his eyes.
He had worked so hard for this and it had paid off.
Standing there with his parents, who still refused to accept us getting married so young, I refrained from screaming ‘that’s my husband!’ at the top of my lungs!
Instead, I clapped when prompted and cheered when it was over.
But the second we got home?
I didn’t have to hold my screams in.
There was no use in lying, I was uncomfortable and tense.
Sitting on a stool next to Eddie upstairs in the cigar lounge of The Whitney acting like this was normal wasn’t easy. We used to come here quite a bit. Mostly for milestones, but on occasion for date nights too.
The staff knew us here as a married couple. They also knew we had gotten divorced.
Only because the girls and I had come for a fundraiser in the garden and Connie spilled the beans when someone asked where my husband was.
Granted, the odds of anyone here remembering or caring for that matter was slim, I was still on edge.
So, after lighting his cigar, I lit mine, happy to have something to do with my hands. Because even though what he went through to protect me was valiant, I still wanted to slap the ever-loving shit out of him. I wanted to find this Coffin Casanova and kick his ass too.
Sliding our drinks forward, our bartender congratulated me on my next phase of life, and it was Eddie’s turn to tense up. I had a feeling that as long as whatever this was lasted, any mention of my moving Eddie was going to tense up. Lord knows I was...
“Remember the first time I brought you here?” he asked, glancing around.
“Yes,” I replied blandly. “The food poisoning was memorable.”
“Shit,” he sighed. “I forgot you got sick.” Shifting uncomfortably, he added, “I was referring to the first special occasion.”
“When I was hired on full-time at Sports banter.”
“It was a big fucking milestone, superstar.”
“So why are we here now?”
“Can you lay off attitude and just talk to me?”
“I’m trying,” I admitted. “But it’s proving difficult.” Because one minute I was all about Eddie and the next I was pissed at myself for being all about the man who broke my heart. Even if he had my best interest in mind, I had to play this smart. The two of us did everything in fast forward. But since hitting rewind wasn’t an option, all I had left was pause and play.
Which button to hit?
“Because you can’t forgive me.”
“It’s not that,” I sighed. “I just...”
“Still got time on the truth clock, Pharis.”
Facing him, I took a long puff of my cigar and confessed, “I don’t know how I feel about this, Eddie. We haven’t actually spoken more than one word answers to each other in nearly two years. Even if we just date, we have a past we need to talk about.”
“That’s fair. Answer me this. Am I why you’re leaving?”
“Partly,” I admitted. “But mostly it’s because what’s keeping me here? I’m single, I don’t own a home, I don’t have kids or family close by. It’s a good opportunity.”
“You have me here,” he said with fire in his eyes.
“Yeah? Then where were you this last year? Because the year prior to that, you spent the first half of it in the guest room and the other half living with Aaron. Which, I found out about when I came home to a half empty house.”
“I explained to you why...”
“And I’m still coming to terms with it, Eddie.”
“Fair enough.”
“It’s not fair at all.” I laughed bitterly. “In fact, the whole thing was fucking embarrassing. The questions, speculation, and looks of pity. Everyone wanted to know what happened that could cause you to move out, and there I was, wondering the exact same fucking thing.” Clearly, I was nowhere near over our past, even knowing the reasons it played out the way it did.
“I couldn’t tell you why,” he said and I noticed his fingers gripping his glass hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “You think I didn’t want to? Hell, Aaron and Butch don’t even know the details.”
“Who knows what the fuck you thought? You shut me out so hard and fast I was dealing with whiplash!”
“I get it! I’m the asshole because I didn’t want you to fucking die!”
Dialing my anger down because this would get us nowhere, I took a deep breath and an even deeper gulp of my drink to compose myself. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “You’re right.”
“I don’t want to be right,” he grumbled. “I want to move forward.”
“Why are we even considering this? Because it has an expiration date.”
Grinding his jaw, he said, “We’re doing this because we belong together. Fuck an expiration date. Forever doesn’t have a fucking expiration date.”
“But I accepted the job,” I reminded him. “I’m leaving.”
With a far too confident smirk he leaned back in his chair and said, “Semantics. Now drink up.”
What was he up to now?