He finally let go of my hand. Thank, God. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I liked it too much.
A small part of me was still on edge from the text I’d gotten. If he knew who that text was really from he would have had every reason just to leave. Brad said he wanted to talk. He missed me. I told him to leave me alone and I shut my phone off. All I needed was for John to catch Brad texting me. I don’t even think he knew about Brad. I’ve never lied to him before, and even being a small white lie I felt like scum.
John was stalling on answering my question. Was he about to tell me he came to find me? Is that why he’s so cagey?
A chant started in my head, Please don’t say me. Please don’t say me.
First he practically ogled me to death at the door, making me what to change my clothes - and making Grace a marked woman for suggesting this dress.
Then he’s being so sweet and trying not to pressure me. How am I supposed to tell him that I don’t want to get involved with him? I shouldn’t even be here talking to him. This is exactly why I wanted it to be lunch.
The entire ride here I couldn’t pull myself away from him. Besides the fact that he had a death grip on me, I liked it. Damn it! I liked it, I knew I shouldn’t. If the words I don’t want to hear come out of his mouth I’ll get up and leave. He can’t still want me. I won’t let him.
I pulled myself out of my reverie long enough to notice that John was pale.
“Are you sick? You’re breathing hard.” I put my hand up to his forehead and he shivered. “John, I think we should go home.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I just have never talked about it before.”
Oh my God. What’s he going to tell me? He’s on the run and Chicago is a great place to hide. It is known for its mobsters. Geraldo Rivera did that special about Al Capone.
He has a family that he abandoned?
He came for me?
He’s an octodad?
He came for me?
He’s an arsonist and it’s easier to hide here? Okay, that’s a super scary thought considering what he does, but I know it happens.
He came here for me?
I plastered a fake smile and said, “If you say so. What’s wrong?”
He kept rubbing his hands on his lap. Oh, God, he did come for me. With the smile still on my face I said, “Take a drink.”
I held his glass of wine to his lips so he could take a sip. He wrapped his hand around mine and I could feel him trembling. What could he tell me that was so bad it would cause this kind of reaction?
HE CAME FOR ME!!!! I was screaming in my head.
He sat quietly for a moment staring at his lap. When he looked up at me his eyes were rimmed with tears. “John, it can’t be that bad. You can tell me anything even if you think I don’t want to hear it.”
He shook his head. “I know you’ll be upset about it, but there’s no way that you hearing it can be as bad as me having to say it. I’ve never said it to anyone before. I haven’t needed to.”
I wasn’t following him. What could he possible have gone through that could be this bad?
“Tell me, John. You’ll feel better.”
He chugged down the rest of the wine before he let me take the glass out of his hand. I set the glass a safe distance away and turned back to him, taking hold of both his hands. I folded them between mine and made him turn towards me so our knees were kissing. I sat there and waited. I wasn’t sure how long we would sit there, but I knew I wouldn’t push him any more. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.
This is a man who runs into burning buildings pulling people out, jump-starting hearts again with his bare hands. If he couldn’t remain calm I sure had to.
After he took a few deep breaths, he looked up at me.
“My parents were murdered. I couldn’t..,” his lips trembled as his words trailed off.
One lone tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes were on me, watching and waiting for my reaction. I was in shock. Of all the things I had thought of being told that wasn’t one of them. My head whirled with questions - how, when, why? Instead, I instinctively put a hand to his cheek. Our eyes met with a silent understanding. It broke my heart to see him hurting.
“Let’s get out of here.” I rubbed his face, feeling the tense cheek ease as I soothed him. “We can take the food to go and eat at one of our places if you want. Where do you want to go?”
I was pulled into an embrace that felt like I was in a trash compactor crushing my bones. He tucked his head into my shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of my neck as he strangled me around my waist.
His back was arching up and down in silent tears. His heart beating so rapidly I thought he was about to have an anxiety attack. I wrapped as much of my arms as I could around his broad shoulders and smoothed back the bottom of his hair.
The waiter appeared to see how we were doing. His eyes took in the scene that we created. John never raised his head, he simply latched on to me tighter when he heard the waiter clear his throat.
I said, “Can you have them wrap up our food? We changed our minds and are going to take it to go.”
The waiter nodded in response and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
I pulled myself away from John as much as he’d allow and murmured into his hair, “Listen, can you drive?”
He gave a silent nod in response.
“Why don’t you go get the car from the valet while I wait for the food?” I felt like I was speaking to a devastated child, which, I guess, to a certain extent, I was.
I slipped backwards off his lap so he could get out. To look at him you would think he only had a cold. His nose was red from the tears he was fighting to hold back, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. The shoulders that were always pulled back and straight slumped forward and his head hung down to the ground.
His eyes never left the floor as he pulled out his wallet leaving his card to pay. He strode out to go get the truck, anguish running off him.
With our Italian in a bag ready to go, John helped me get up into the truck, looking at everything around us but me.
Once he was situated behind the wheel, I asked, “Where do you want to go?” I was leaning up against the door facing him, watching. I’d never seen him this distraught. I wasn’t sure what he would do.
“I feel like such an ass,” he said, through clenched teeth, a ragged breath escaping. Pounding the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, causing it to wobble, he said, “I wanted this to be a fun night, to reconnect with you. Not a pity party for John.”
He slowly turned his head to look at me for the first time since he told me the news.
If he only knew he had reconnected with me. But he would never know that. I couldn’t get myself to tell him.
I slid across the cold interior, closing the gap between us, curling up next to his side knowing how much he liked it.
What he said sounded so familiar. That’s exactly what I had told Mike and Grace about going to the bar where I ran into him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t give you one. But I will grieve with you if it’s alright.”
I rested my head on his bicep and watched the street as he drove until the tears were close to falling out of my own eyes and I had to close them to keep them away.
The spicy aroma wafting from the paper bags sitting at my feet would have normally made my mouth water, but not under these circumstances. The reality of what John had told me was starting to sink in, stealing my appetite.
I cuddled up tighter next to him, ringing my arm through his. He brought his arm in towards his body, pressing my arm against his ribs.
I was attempting to keep myself pulled together for him, but the longer I sat pinned to him the harder it was becoming. I had to keep telling myself this was his time to mourn. He needs his space. He doesn’t need me even if he acts like he does. He doesn’t know what he wants, he’s depressed.
We drove for a few minutes and he seemed to calm down. The death grip on my arm that was still clinging to me eased up. He was even humming to the music that was playing.
I opened my eyes in time to see us pull into the garage of The Columbian.
“Who are we visiting?” I asked. My first reaction was surprise he would want to visit anyone right now. My second was who did he know who lived here? This was one of the ritziest places on Michigan Avenue.
“Nobody, I live here,” John said flashing a shy smile as he concentrated on parking.
After parking the truck in a numbered space, I couldn’t get out all the way before John was by my side gripping me, poking his fingers into my hips in the process, setting me on the ground in front of him.
He tugged my hair, tipping my head up so we were eye to eye. Leaning down he brushed a soft kiss against my lips.
Not letting me move, he gently took my hand, holding it against his chest while his eyes, still wet, watched me. His heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s, like it had been in the restaurant. As he held my hand to his stone chest I realized the relaxed attitude must be an act. He hid it so well, I would have never guessed. That thought made me unsettled. I used to be able to read his emotions like a book. How did I miss it?
Without a word, he started toward the entrance of the building. We rode up to his place and the vice grip he had on my hand was getting tighter, starting to hurt, but I didn’t complain. I tried to wiggle my fingers to give them circulation but he wouldn’t let up enough.
I couldn’t believe it. I always pictured the day when I would have to tell someone about my parents that it would feel like a knife being turned into my heart a little bit at a time. I never thought the person I would be telling about one of the worst things in my entire life would be Faith. I felt like a thousand pounds was lifted off my shoulders. In some strange way simply saying those few words at the restaurant freed me from guilt. When I had to explain, which I would have to do, it didn’t seem so horrible knowing it would be the one person I trusted the most in the world.
The entire drive back to my condo I was so excited to be with her. To have her be part of my life again, and to see where I lived, put my heart into overdrive. I was going to have the smell of Faith in my place. My heart wasn’t able to settle back to its normal rhythm. I could wake up with her even if it was only her scent. I wanted her to see how she made me feel. What she does to me.
Once I was parked I ran to her side. I couldn’t wait to touch her again. The break of our arms left me empty. When I had her in front of me I placed her delicate hand over my pounding heart so she could feel for herself how much I cared for her.
I didn’t get the expression I wanted. Why was she giving me a disturbed look? Couldn’t she sense how happy I was to be with her?
Sharing my secret with Faith made it all easier. I was telling someone who loved them just as much as I do. The only thing that would have made it easier to get through was if it had been a different night. Why tonight? I would have to explain to her what happened, there was no getting around it. But somehow it didn’t seem so horrible.
Every time we touched I wasn’t able get enough of her, wanting to soak her into every pore so she’d always be with me. The closer we got to my floor, the more nervous I became. Hopefully I could save this night with what I had planned inside. “Wait out here. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t care if the place is messy, John,” Faith said chuckling at me.
As I slid the key into the lock I said again, “Just wait out here. I’ll come get you when I’m ready.” Not letting her say anything, I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.
I ran around in the dark like a lunatic, lighting candles on every surface I could put one on until the entire place was alight.
I tossed mauve calla lily petals leading from the door to the family room around a blanket that I had splayed out on the ground. I started my iPhone and played the playlist from years ago, hoping her taste in music had only expanded, and I set a vase of calla lilies that matched the loose petals at one corner. Finishing the setup, I rested a bottle of chilled champagne and the brown journal at opposite ends of the blanket.
With a quick double check, I decided it would have to do. I flung the door open, my fingers white-knuckling the open edge, afraid I took too long and she would be gone. When I saw her still in the same place I’d left her on her phone texting, I sighed, releasing the strain on my hand. “You’re still here.”
She tucked her phone away and said, “Did you think I would leave?”
“No. At least I hoped not.”
I stepped aside, giving her room to enter.
I slipped her coat from her as she slinked through the doorway, blindly hanging it on a hook, not taking my eyes off her. She didn’t get any farther than the entryway before she stopped.
“I need to take these things off my feet, they’re a podiatrist’s dream,” she said.
My wet dreams were getting ripped off her feet with her back to the room. Once she was done flexing and rubbing her feet, she turned around. She was killing me. How long was she going to pamper her feet?
“I swear they probably tell these designers the higher the better,” she said.
She took one step towards the family room and stopped, pulling a calla lily petal off the bottom of her foot and kept going without looking at it. This happened two more times with no reaction.
She started ranting again. “Remember that ‘Seinfeld’ episode about how podiatrists weren’t really doctors? Yeah, no kidding, they’re sadists.”
While rambling she pulled another petal off of her foot, really examining it for the first time, flipping it over from front to back. After realizing what it was she looked up at me and then around the room. Her eyes got large as she stared around once more.
I stood next to her watching. My face started to twitch. I couldn’t hide the smile that was creeping onto it. This moment made up for dinner going down like a fat man choking on a turkey bone at Thanksgiving.
The surprise in her eyes said it all. This made up for those seven years of birthday presents I hadn’t gotten, plus seven more. I put my mouth against her ear and whispered, “Does this look familiar?”
The only response was a nod. The longer she stood in place the surprise faded and was replaced with a blank stare.
She took my hand and strode farther inside following the path of calla lilies. This time she let the petals cling to the bottom of her feet.
We stopped just at the edge of the blanket and she was still silent. The moon was shining in on us and flames danced around on the walls.
“Faith, say something,” I said.
All she did was nod again. When she looked up at me she was crying. I pulled her against me, wrapping my arms around her small waist, setting my chin on top her head.
We stared at the blanket. Our last night together was playing like a movie inside my head on that very blanket. I couldn’t help but wonder what our lives would have been now if I had been able to get my question out all those years ago. Would we have had a little Faith running around? I gave her a squeeze at the thought.
Faith pulled away from me, passing up the blanket. She sat on the couch with a catatonic look. She kept staring unblinking at the blanket we had made love on the last time. When I sat next to her she spoke with her eyes trained on a certain spot.
“You know we can only be friends,” she whispered.
The excitement in my heart was now crushed like the flower petals under her feet.
Her face changed into something unreadable and she said, “Tell me how it happened.”
“You don’t have to hear it if you don’t really want to.” The life in my voice had run away while my heart had been getting trampled on by Faith.
Her petite hand gripped my thigh.
“John, they were like parents to me, too,” she murmured. “I want to know. I owe it to them to show my respect. I only wish that I had heard about it so I could have come and said good-bye the right way.”
“You wouldn’t have. You had only been here a few months.”
Her eyes shifted to a candle that flickered on the coffee table in front of us.
“My sisters never told me. I talked to them everyday those first couple of years.”
“They didn’t know. When you left me I had to cut them off. It was too painful seeing Joy.”
She whipped her head in my direction, her eyes slits. “Stop saying I left you!” she hissed. “I didn’t leave you. I left the situation.”
“Same thing,” I shrugged. “Anyway, my parents had driven into Des Moines to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary over the weekend. Mom was so excited. You know they never did anything like that.”
I tipped my face over at Faith to see her reaction. She was watching intently, nodding in agreement with me. I turned my head back to the ground and plowed ahead, wanting to get it done with. The air in the room suddenly became thick like molasses.
“My dad had made reservations at a steakhouse. They ate and drank. According to reports they were really happy when they left, laughing, holding hands.”
Faith’s hand went from caressing my thigh to a dagger into my leg, but I let her be.
“They had even asked the maitre d about any jazz bars in the area and he gave my dad the name of one. This is the part where we don’t know exactly what happened.”
I rested my hand over her stiff claw, taking a moment to regroup. Fighting for air, I continued, “They were walking to the club. Since they weren’t familiar with the streets they had ended up in an area that wasn’t well populated at that time of night.”
A ball of grief sat in the middle of my throat, blocking the words from coming out. Struggling, I said, “They were found in an alley four blocks from the restaurant. My dad had been shot in the chest and head, my mom in the chest.”
A loud gasp escaped Faith. I could feel the motion of her hand covering her mouth. My eyes were closed. I was trying to make it through in one piece, but the ball was turning to cement, choking me.
My heart was fighting to break free from my chest and I was drenched in sweat. I didn’t look at Faith. If I did it would be over.
“The police think my dad was shot twice because he was trying to fight them off so my mom could get away. He had defensive wounds on his arms and his hands were bloodied like he got some punches in.”
I rested my arms on my thighs, hanging my head between them. I felt the look I was getting and I couldn’t bear to witness it. My heart was cracking into millions of tiny pieces with each small gasp that escaped Faith.
The hand that had transformed into a stone claw during the story was now softly caressing my back in long strokes up and down the hard expanse of muscle.
“How are Steve and Sarah?” she asked softly.
“They’re still them. Steve is in his own world, head in the sand, and Sarah became a wild child. I had to take charge over her.”
Silence spread throughout the room. A pin could have dropped in the hall and we would have heard it.
“And you?” she asked, sounding afraid like she had in the restaurant.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m in a better place, now.”
I dipped my head up to take a peek at her before dropping it back down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means, Faith? I was f*cked up royally,” I snorted. I couldn’t help it.
“I understand,” she said. “If I lost my dad like that I would be the same way.”
When I looked at her she flinched. That’s when I noticed I was glaring at her. It wasn’t just in my head.
“It wasn’t just because of them, Faith. Yes, that devastated me, but I was also torn to pieces by you. Having lost the love of my life a few months prior didn’t help. Or did you forget?”
My voice came out like acid, making Faith slide away from me.
“Let’s say I don’t feel the need to go out to bars or date because I did more than my share afterwards. I drank hundreds of bars worth of liquor and f*cked too many girls to care to think about,” I growled at her.
I was still able to maintain control of myself.
“Sorry,” she replied as if she had spilled a drink on my floor. How could she sound so heartless over it?
“Sorry? That’s all you can say. I have a question that’s been bothering me since we f*cked at the hospital.”
The anger from everything was starting to surface, and my voice became a shout. I didn’t even attempt to censor my thoughts. Obviously treating her like the woman I thought she deserved to be treated as wasn’t working, so maybe some vulgar words would snap her back from where ever she was at. Faith slid farther back on the couch like I’d slapped her.
“Why doesn’t Grace know about me? If you loved me and those memories are some of your favorite ones, why wouldn’t you tell your best friend?”
The thought that I was purposely hidden infuriated me and I was yelling now. I was scaring Faith, but I didn’t care. She deserved it. It was a long time coming.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Faith was shaking her head rapidly from side to side. For how loud I was, Faith was the exact opposite. What the hell was going on with this woman? She would normally be giving it back at me just as hard, but she just sat here and let me talk to her like this.
“I wouldn’t understand? You never gave me a chance to understand. Were you embarrassed of me? Is that why you never talked about me?”
I leapt up in her face, poking myself in the chest as I screamed. “You left me! Me, Faith. You. Left. ME!” The veins in my neck were straining. Holy hell, I was a mad man. I knew it but I couldn’t stop.
I could feel my face was red and I was breathing hard like I did when I boxed. At least I could pound the shit out of the opponent’s face when I got like this, but Faith was my opponent now. Actually, more like a punching bag. Why the hell wasn’t she fighting back? She would have never let me yell at her like this before, but she just sat there, a shell of the woman I loved. I had to try what ever I could to get her back.
Faith bolted for the door. I sprinted past her, blocking her exit. I was practically laughing now at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Oh, no you don’t. You may have tricked me the last time we were in this same setting, but not tonight,” I wagged a finger at her.
Half of her face was lit by flickering flames the other half completely black.
“You’re going to give me answers, Faith,” I demanded. “You can’t make someone fall in love with you, want to make a life with you, a family with you for f*cking sakes, and then vanish.”
My hands waved around in the open air as I shouted. I’m sure I looked crazed, but that’s how I felt.
And why was she looking at me like this was new information? We always talked about getting married and having a family.
I waited for her to respond, giving my blood pressure time to come down. She was shaking and I knew it wasn’t because she was cold. I had the poor thing terrified. This sure will be a memorable night, no doubt about it. The next time I think to do anything with a blanket I’m going to kick my own ass. Why did I even think this was a good idea considering how things had ended the last time I did it?
“Move, John,” she said in that meek little voice I didn’t recognize.
What the f*ck!
“No.” I crossed my arms across my chest, pushing it out to make it appear bigger. Satisfied I looked serious enough I leaned against the door, pretending I didn’t care that she was upset, even though it was killing me.
“I’m not kidding,” she said louder. The fire was lighting her blue eyes into sapphires. Here we go, zombie girl is finally going to fight back.
I had forgotten about that fabulous dress she had on until I saw her chest turn bright red underneath the lace. This little exercise made me notice I liked making her mad. The anger I had evaporated and was replaced with desire. Desire to do the same things I had done to her the other day, plus more.
“I’m not either, Faith.” My mouth was pulled into a smirk. She was so hot I had to hold back the urge to drag her to the ground and f*ck her. On that damn blanket!
“John, if you don’t let me out now you can forget about being friends. It’s over for good, I’m serious.” Her face was starting to show signs of her temper, but not what I knew she had in her. She was still holding back. Come on, baby, give me everything you got.
“And that would be different from these last seven years, how? Ask me if I really care what happens after tonight, Faith,” I said, sounding as cold and heartless as I could while I prayed she didn’t mean the threat because I did care. Really f*cking cared.
What came out of my mouth was harsh but Faith always got her way, and there was no chance in hell I was going to coddle her tonight, especially since she was acting so unlike herself. I would give my life for her, but this was one thing I needed to have answers to.
I stood against the door, flexing my arms, watching the muscles and tendons in my forearms tense and relax as my veins pulsed under the strain.
Yeah, I was acting like a cocky ass, but I was allowed every once in a while. I had to do something to distract myself. She couldn’t see that I was falling apart again.
I heard a swoosh and when I tore my eyes from my arms Faith was no longer standing in front of me. All I was left with was a swirl of soft spring flowers.
As my eyes surveyed the room I saw what looked like hundreds of small flames dancing around. Damn, I forgot my place was still lit with candles. If I wasn’t a firefighter I’d be afraid it would burn down. I reached the light switch, flicking it on, and with a quick scan from the family room into the man cave, then to the other end by the media room, I saw no sight of her.
“Faith, where are you?” I called out. Come on, Faith, you know I can never stay mad at you. Never could, never will.”
I vented what I needed to and I felt weightless, having let go of all my pent up anger.
I started to sweep through my place, heading to the room she was most likely hiding.
The master bedroom was spacious. As a kid the only room we had that was this big was our living room. Now I have a room the same size and all I did was sleep in it. I had painted it an ice blue/grey, enjoying not having any woman to tell me how to do things. No flowers allowed. Unless Faith wanted them.
As I suspected, my bathroom door was shut. I turned the knob and, of course, she’d locked it.
“Faith, you know you can’t stay in there all night.”
“Go away,” she snipped at me, sounding like a pouting little girl.
“Did you forget whose place this is?”
“So what?” her voice cracked.
Was she crying?
“Are you crying? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Go away.” I heard a sniffle come from directly behind the door.
“Open the door.” Jesus, how long were we going to go like this? “You do know that I could pick the lock if I really wanted to. They make them kid-proof nowadays.”
“Are you calling me a kid?” Faith snapped at me.
“I didn’t say it, you did.” I tried to keep the smile out of my voice but it was too hard.
“Go f*ck yourself, John Bauers!” Oh, yeah, here comes feisty Faith.
“I will if I have to, but f*cking you would be more fun,” I chuckled.
She was so damn adorable when she got angry, and she was so easy to rile. I have never been able to keep a fight going with her. I could only imagine how red her chest was. I’m sure it had spread up to her beautiful face. What I wouldn’t give to kiss my way up, starting at those fabulous tits.
“Shut up, mother f*cker.” The toilet seat slammed shut and I heard a disgusted little grunt.
She looks so fragile, but I forgot that when she gets pissed she curses like a sailor. I love it.
I hunkered down next to the door, ready to spring up and grab her the minute the door opened even a crack. By all the garbled curses I heard on the other side I had a feeling I would be here a while.