Bait (Wake, #1)(117)

He repeated, “So long” over and over in place of his previous “why” in which he recited in various tones, trying each one out until he found a contrite-sounding one that he liked.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He looked up. “Do you care?”

“Of course I do.” Of course I do or otherwise I wouldn't have strung you along for so long. So damn long.

“God. What didn't I do right?” he asked, his voice sounding more like himself. More like the Grant I married.

“You did everything right,” I said.

“Well, I guess not,” he said, as he heaved the luggage off the bed. Pulling out the handle, it got stuck on its way to its full height, and he yanked it.

If it weren’t such a bitch of a conversation, it would have been funny.

But it was and we didn't laugh.

He took a deep breath, his blond hair looking more disheveled than I ever remembered.

His voice was even and measured, which was par for Grant, and said, “I'm leaving. I'm calling the airline on the way. I'm getting on stand-by and I'm going home.”

There it was.

When he made it to the door, he stopped. He unzipped the front pocket of his leather bag and tossed out a folded piece of paper. It landed on the floor. He looked at me one last time; then bowed his head and sighed. “I found this in your suit case a few weeks ago. I want you to come home, Blake. We can figure this out. Please, come home. But only if you want to.”

He didn’t even fight for me, not that I expected him to. He left.

I didn't have to unfold the paper to know what it was. I'd waited for that moment for so long.





Thursday, December 31, 2009


I'D WAITED FOR SO long for something like that to happen. When you're sleeping with a wife who doesn't share your last name, you always think of how it will all play out. It was usually more dramatic in my head.

In my head, we’d duke it out and I kick his f*cking ass. Blake would run to me and I’d kiss her like at the end of an action movie.

It wasn't like that at all by comparison. If it hadn't been at my brother's wedding, I would have levelled him. At least that was what I told myself. My adrenaline still surged through my blood.

I paced on the other side of the street, the driver asking me where I needed to go. I told him, “Back in time.”

He said more than asked, “That bad?” A quick understanding and camaraderie linked us. I discerned that he'd been there before with only one nod of his head.

“I don't know if I should leave,” I said. Then, I saw her come out of the bar, she looked like a lost person. She saw me, and her arms dropped to her sides.

She didn't smile. If she would have smiled at me, I would have been one thousand percent sure she was taking steps toward me, but instead as she got closer, she felt farther away. I stepped to the door of the stretch-sedan and he followed my eyes and then my cue, like a natural wing man. I had the driver, who told me his name was Andy, leave. We didn't get to the next block before I told him to head back.

I had him stop us just short of the doors so I could watch if anyone were to leave. I needed to see them walk out together. I needed to nail this coffin shut, my new tattoo was becoming a memorial. A tribute to love lost. Time and time again.

Betty.

Mine.

His. Always his.

I didn't know her.

He didn't know her.

I waited. Andy turned on the radio.

We waited some more.

Grant came out, raised his arm and almost immediately flagged down a taxi. He never looked behind himself to see if she was coming. Not once.

He got in and he drove away. Alone.

My heart sprinted.

Then, after a little more time, I saw her come off the elevator through the large glass windows. She had her suitcases. She was leaving, too. She looked around.

Was she looking for me? Had she really done it?

Her steps were rushed across the marble floor and she skidded to a stop in front of the doors to get through the glass turnstiles.

“Pull up, Andy. Please?” I asked.

He put the car in drive and crept ahead a few dozen feet so that my window was centered with the hotel doors. I rolled it down and looked out from my seat, waiting for her to see me. I knew she would.

And when she did her face eased, but her lip quivered and her shoulders sagged. Like she’d been holding everything together until that exact moment.

I got out and went to her. Her hands dropped the bags and wrapped around me. She clung to me so tightly and she cried. She didn't say anything, she just sobbed into my chest. I ran my hand across her back and let her do it.

When she calmed some, I lifted her chin to see puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“Come on,” I said. “Let's get in the car.” I lowered to pick up her bags and carried them in one hand. Wrapping the other around her shoulder, I tucked her into my side.

Andy got out of the car and popped the trunk, taking her things from me and stowing them in the back. I opened the door and let her get in first then followed. I looked back at Andy and asked, “Can you give us a minute?”

He nodded and walked inside the hotel. Then I closed the door with us hidden away inside.

We sat facing each other, neither she nor I knew what to say. So we did what came easy, that with which reconnected us on an elemental level.