Layers(88)

I observe her, irresistibly swallowing every piece of information coming out of her mouth. “I’ve talked to people who had the pleasure of being in a meeting with him and the horrors they survived to tell.” She twists her mouth.

“His PA cried more than once, and some people avoid taking the elevator just not to run into him.” She shakes her head judgmentally.

I shake off the thought, regardless of what happened. I hate to think of him in anger or pain.

“And Hales, he looks awful. Well, just like you do,” she coils her mouth to a thin, bitter smile.

“Thanks,” I murmur. I think about how I feel as if there’s a missing piece in my heart. I’m light years away from being remotely fine.

“Now my two cents,” Ian says. “A: You are going to work tomorrow, meaning you are going back to your life. B: As soon as you feel more coherent and less devastated you’re going to talk to him and try to get you both out of this mess.” He stares at me with a brotherly look, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Will I ever feel less devastated?” I look at Ian, gloomy.




“If nothing else will help I’ll convert for you, okay, gorgeous?” He strokes my hair warmly.

“Convert for me? My prince in shining couture?” I blink at Ian’s grin.

“All the way for you. We’ll even have eight drop-dead, gorgeous kids.”

I snort and giggle. “You’ll convert and we’ll both turn Amish?”

As always, Ian knows just what to say to make me laugh rather than dive into sorrow. But then a thought sneaks into my mind: Did Daniel and I go our separate ways three days ago? Was that the last time he was mine?

“And due to this exact expression,” Ian points at my fallen face, “I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

I hug him tight, clinging to the security his hug covers me with.

“Gorgeous, you keep doing this, and I’ll end up pregnant.” He fakes a frown, and I can’t help but giggle. Dork.





Chapter 36: Like Sheep to the Slaughter


The first time I actually take a break from my PC is at lunch when Josh asks me whether I would like to join him for food.

“Maybe I’ll just join you on your way and grab something to bring back.”

“You can have a break you know,” he responds, wearing an authoritative mien.

“I know, boss, but I would much rather make up for the time I lost.”

He shrugs.

“Rain check?” I say with a forced smile.

The time flies by at work. By the end of the day I’ve accomplished half of my to-do list and can leave with at least a small feeling of satisfaction inside.

~~~

I decide on my way home in Daniel’s car that tonight is the night. I need to give him back his car and keys and most importantly I need to try to talk to him. The sooner, the better. I am not sure how much of this pain I can keep carrying with me.

The next song playing from Daniel’s playlist fills my eyes with unbidden tears at the first few notes. Disturbed, I press the off button but the music doesn’t stop. I can’t hear it. Shut up! Stressed, somewhat shaky, I hit the button again and instead of killing it the volume pumps up. These words are like salt on my open wound. It’s the same song we listened to the last day in Baja just before retuning. The song that word for word expressed how we both felt. Finally, when I manage to stop the music, the tears are already pouring from my eyes, unstoppable, expending the soreness from my soul.

At home I do everything quickly and mechanically. I take a shower, dress up, put Daniel’s house key in my front pocket and hurry to the car, all to avoid losing the only shred of courage I still have left.

~~~

As I stare at the security cameras I am in a different state of mind, completely different than the times in the past when I stood on this same spot, elated and anxious. As before, anxiety overtakes me, but this time there’s the bitter taste of dread. I hope that he’s at home; at the squeaking sound of the parting gates, my hope becomes a reality, a reality that makes my heart beat frantically. I can hear my own thuds now and the closer I get the faster and louder they chant.

In a momentary glance at the rearview mirror I realize that I am wearing my pink spaghetti top, the same one I wore the first time I came here. The irony of this fact stings, and I hope this time won’t be a closure.

Far from being stable, I make my way slowly toward the house. He’s not there waiting for me like he always has before; the closed front door screams volumes. Though it seems like an eternity, it’s only a brief moment before Daniel opens the door. The air escapes my lungs at the sight of him.

“Hayley.” An emotionless voice compliments his clouded features and the coldness that broadcasting from every fiber of his posture. He seems to have been in the middle of a workout; he’s wearing his black sweat pants and the grey tank top. His hair, pulled back in a black hair band, juts out like it had the last time I saw him train not so long ago. Only something’s different: still sinfully handsome, he doesn’t look his natural vivid self. His eyes are bereft and dark, lacking the usual glee.

He doesn’t wait for me to talk; he states, “I’m in the middle of something here.”

The last thing he’ll do is make it easy for me. “It won’t take too long,” I reassure, my voice fragile.