How could he appear so tranquil as I felt my world was falling apart?
So when he stepped forward and cupped my cheeks, I fought him. “No.” I lifted my hands and slapped at his chest. He leaned in again, and a pained grunt escaped me as my hand connected with his chin. “Don’t touch me!” A strong arm circled my waist and held me fast, and I lifted my arms, hitting him again and again as I wept openly. “Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!”
“Baby, stop,” he cooed, avoiding as much of my assault as he could.
Balling my hands into fists, I punched his shoulders, but my blows were abating as my heart weakened, as my soul desperately tried to understand why this was happening all over again.
The answer was a hard pill to swallow.
It was happening, because I let it.
“Let go of me.” I struggled in his hold, and when he didn’t release me, I screamed, “Let go of me!”
And just like that, Twitch had turned me into another angry housewife yelling in the street.
He let go then, and as much as I begged for it, I wanted to rush back into his arms if it meant keeping him with me a while longer.
Yes. I was truly pathetic.
And when I shook my head and turned my back on him, heading back toward the house, wondering how in the hell I would explain this to my son, he caught my wrist. I yanked it free with little to no effort and turned my deathly glare on him. “You want to go?” I swept my arm out. “Go.” My expression severe, I warned, “But I swear to you, Antonio Falco, if you leave today, you leave for good. Do you hear me?”
Yeah, I said it. But I didn’t mean it.
I spun on my heel because I didn’t want him to see me cry again. He stopped me with, “I left a note.” My feet failed me and I stalled. “It’s just a couple days.” My throat constricted painfully. With my back to him and my feet chilled, he spoke quietly. “I’m coming back.”
My breath left me with a whoosh and my shoulders slumped. I didn’t dare face him.
He went on, “Just a few days. That’s all.” And when I heard him approach, my entire body turned rigid. “I’m coming back, angel.”
Why should I believe him?
Last time I believed him, I ended up burying him.
“I’m not leavin’ you. Not the way you think.” I loathed that I heard sincerity in his voice. “I told you, baby.” What he said next had a fresh stream of tears falling. “Always find my way back to you.”
I hugged myself then, trying in vain to talk through my tears. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Spent six years without you, angel. Spent those years alone and miserable. Now I got you, got my boy, and I’m fuckin’ happy. I’m not takin’ any risks.” My back warmed as I felt him stand right behind me. “Gonna find someone who makes sure we get at least six more together.” When his hands came down on my shoulders, he uttered, “I’m tired of waiting. I can’t live like this, knowing she’s out there planning whatever the fuck she’s planning. Livin’ with this dread in the pit of my stomach.” He inhaled deeply, followed by an exhale. “It’s messin’ with me, baby.”
Ling.
This was about Ling.
At my silence, he went on, “You know me, Lex. You think I’mma wait for the bitch to attack first? Fuck that shit.” The hands at my shoulders squeezed as he made a negative sound in his throat. “It ain’t my style.”
My feet were freezing, and when I turned, I did it slowly. My damp eyes met his, and I asked quietly, “Why do you think she’s planning something?”
Brutal honesty. “Because I would be.” And the certainty in his voice made my heart stutter.
My eyes turned as desolate as my tone. “You’re not leaving?”
He shook his head slowly and his eyes spoke to mine, holding a certainty in them. And at that moment, confidence surged through me. One I had no right to feel, not with our history. It filled me with hope.
I held my breath.
Past experience told me to fear this man and what he could do to me, but my heart objected so profoundly that it wouldn’t be silenced. I took the objection and kissed it soundly, holding it close, nurturing it to grow.
When he glanced down at his watch, he uttered the words I feared hearing. “I gotta go.” At my unsure expression, he stepped closer, taking his hands and placing them gently on my waist. “I’m coming back,” he uttered earnestly. The hands at my waist squeezed. “And when I do, we’re getting married.” His soft brown eyes searched my strained face, before he ordered gently, “Kiss me before I go.”
Soft promises made with a forked tongue.
No. I shouldn’t have believed him.
Then why did I?
Because it was better than the alternative.
My heart cracked, fissures appearing all over the fragile glass it was made of, and when he looked me deep in the eye and commanded, “Kiss me,” my feet moved without permission.
He lowered his face at the very same moment I stood on my tiptoes, and when our lips touched, so much was said without ever being spoken. My arms wrapped around his neck and I was not letting go. Not yet.
His tender kiss said, “I won’t let you down,” while my desperate lips begged, “Come back to me.”
And when he backed away, carefully pulling my arms off of him, I watched him approach the car and I panicked. “Don’t get lost, okay?”
He snuffled out a soft laugh before looking at me. Really looking at me. “Don’t you know, angel?” The intensity of that look gave me chills. “No matter which map I take, they all lead back to you.”
Jesus Christ.
I was in love with a silver-tongued snake.
My breath hitched as I delayed his departure. “Love me forever?”
He opened the car door and paused. And then he smiled, the beautifully crooked smile that haunted my dreams to this very day. “Till the end of time.” Before he slid into the drivers seat, he muttered, “Wait for me, baby.”
But I didn’t respond because it didn’t need to be said.
And as I watched the car reverse out of my driveway, I came to the sickening realization that I would wait.
I would wait a million years.
My eyes fluttered open sometime before dawn. I reached out, knowing he wouldn’t be there.
Fingers blindly searching the empty side of the bed, I closed my eyes and curled in on myself as my heart ached tenderly, hugging his hoodie to me in the early hours of a lonely morning. I breathed in his heady scent and, eventually, slow as the sun rose, I fell back asleep.
“Where’s Daddy?”
I don’t know and it’s killing me.
Smiling down at the little monster with a light that didn’t reach my eyes, I uttered, “He had to go away for work.”
Molly glanced at me from the table, frowning, and we exchanged a solemn look.
My son peered between us, before asking carefully, “When is he coming back?”
His hesitance slayed me.
I sat beside him and ran a gentle hand through his hair. “I’m not sure, baby.”
A couple days, he said. The note he left said a week. For all I knew, it would be months. Years, even.
Who knew?
My attitude grew more pessimistic by the second, and before I did something really dumb, like burst into tears for the fourth time this morning, I peered down at my little man, and said, “How about we put on a nice dinner tonight? I can call Ana and Julius.”
The little monster’s eyes lit up. “And Uncle Happy and Nikki and Dave?” When I nodded, he went on, “And Aunt Manda?”
A short laugh escaped me. “Yep. Uncle Zep and Nonno Tony too. Everyone.”
“Yes,” he offered immediately, grinning hard. And I was glad for it.
God knew I needed the distraction.
Twitch was noticeably absent during dinner, but only my wonderful, pushy Dave had the guts to ask the question everyone was thinking.
“Where’s Se?or Gets-Mad-A-Lot?”