The Absence of Olivia(54)

“You said you were working today.” His voice was calm and almost sad. He sat with his hands folded together atop my desk, but he wouldn’t look at me. “I left the kids with the neighbor girl across the street and came here to talk to you, to try and work some things out, but you weren’t here.” He paused for a moment and took a breath, then his face lifted and his eyes met mine. “I waited here because I thought, surely, you’d be back soon. You told me you were working.”

“Devon,” I said quietly. “How did you get in?”

“Liv had a key.”

Of course she did.

“I was working,” I lied. I held up my camera. “I did a nature shoot. Went for a hike.”

“With him?” His words were colder, but not any harsher. If anything, he sounded sadder with every word.

“Devon, please-”

“I don’t understand. I didn’t think it was possible to be hurt by loss again.”

His words opened up a deep and gaping hole, right in the middle of my chest. My lungs collapsed. My knees begged to give out, to bring me straight to the floor.

“I thought when Olivia died that would be the end of the loss. Do you know what I mean?” He looked at me again, pleading with me to understand what he was saying, but I knew his loss was something I’d never be able to comprehend. “I always imagined, at least in the last couple of months, that grief was like a basket or a bowl.” He held his hands up, as if he were holding an imaginary bowl in his arms. “My bucket was full of grief. I couldn’t fit anymore in there, Evie. It was filled to the brim. And it was heavy. I had to carry it everywhere.”

I wanted to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and try anything to make him feel better, to make his hurt go away. But there was a notably distinct and solid wall of emotion around him and I didn’t know how to break through or if it was even a good idea.

“But every day it got a little lighter, and the bucket got a little smaller. No less empty – the grief and sadness were still there – still just as real, it just became easier to carry. Every day when you would come to our house and make life easier, Evie, the grief became less.” He shook his head and dropped it into his hands. His next words were mumbled, his voice quiet and aching. “It didn’t occur to me that you were mine to lose, too.”

“That’s a lie,” I rasped at him, my whisper angry and insistent. “You’ve known from day one, the day you realized I was your girlfriend’s best friend, that I was yours. I’ve always been yours, even when I shouldn’t have been.” My body, which had previously been weak and empty from his presence, was now alive and filled with electricity coursing through my veins. “You chose Olivia.”

“I wasn’t given a choice!” His words were punctuated by his hand slamming down on the top of my cherry-colored desk. “I was with her and then you appeared, like I’d been wishing for, but I was already with her. I couldn’t break up with her to be with you; that would have ruined your friendship.” He slammed his other hand down, only this one was fisted, making a louder thump than the other. Then he fisted both of his hands in his hair, resting his elbows on the surface of the desk. “Besides, I cared about her,” he whispered.

“I know. You loved her.” My words came out with a sob I thought I would be able to keep under control.

“I did love her, Evie. God,” he took in a stuttering breath, “I loved her.” His voice broke as he started crying, and I just couldn’t stay on the other side of the room any longer. Nothing in that moment was going to keep me from him. I rushed to him, knelt at his side, offering anything I had to make him feel better. The instant I was there, he turned and wrapped his arms around me. He buried his face in my neck and cried.

I ran my hand down the back of his head, smoothing over his hair, murmuring quiet words to him. Telling him it was okay, letting him cry. I tried to be the strong one, tried to keep my tears in, but I found myself with a few errant ones slipping down my cheek.

“She wasn’t supposed to die, Evie,” he cried. “She wasn’t supposed to leave me here wondering what in the hell it was all for.”

“I know, Devon,” I whispered, not knowing what else I could say to him.

He pulled away slightly, his mouth just barely at my cheek, breath feathering over my skin damp from both our tears. “I was so content. I was so used to loving you both. Having her with me and you just out of reach.” He sucked in a fast breath, but I couldn’t get my lungs to work at all. I felt his hand come to the side of my face, his skin warm and familiar in a completely foreign way. My whole body seized up and I recognized what I was feeling as fear. Everything was about to change, to go down a completely unpredictable path. “I’m so confused,” he whispered, his lips so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating off them, a hair’s breadth from mine.

When his soft, wet lips made contact with mine, a few things happened all at once. First, I had an instant in which I understood I was living a moment I had thought was an impossibility. I paid homage to the fact that Devon’s lips were pressed against mine, that he had consciously made the decision to kiss me. My heart swelled, the butterflies took off in droves, and my whole body sagged in the relief his kiss brought me. The next instant, all of that came to a jarring halt.