Yeah, then you would be married to Camden and never know what love was.
I hated the stupid voice in my head. If this was love, then it could fuck off.
“God,” I groaned. “Maybe I should have just married Camden.”
“Ew, no,” Nova said, cringing. “If nothing else, the silver lining from all of this is that you aren’t married to Camden.”
“Hear, hear,” Raelynn said, raising her bottle.
We clinked bottles, and all took a drink.
“So, what are you going to do?”
I huffed a laugh. “I don’t know. I have no house, no job—because I’m sure as hell not going back to work for him. I have nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Raelynn said. “You have us. And me? I have more than everything. We’ll figure it out, and you can stay here while you do it. If all else fails, we can move forward with the platonic love island.”
“Now there’s the real mistake. Fuck, thinking you should have just married Camden. We really should have just run away when Rae offered it.”
We all laughed at Nova’s statement.
Raelynn gave Nova and me a change of clothes, and we curled up on the couch, a second bottle of wine each. But no matter how much I tried to lose myself in my friends—to focus on how much love I had for them—my heart refused to forget how much I loved Nico.
And it hurt over and over again when I reminded the stupid organ that he was a liar and didn’t love us back.
How could he?Thirty-FiveNicoI muted the television, not wanting to listen to the newscaster report on the hostile takeover of Mariano Shipping. My biggest dream for over a decade scrolled across the bottom of one of the biggest business channels, and I sat sprawled on my couch, missing my wife.
I called my grandpa to check in on him, but he was having a bad day, and I used that as an excuse to not visit. But four days had passed, and I knew I needed to go. The problem was that I knew he would make me look at myself in the mirror. He’d make me face what I’d done. He always had. When I used to imagine going to tell him I finally won for us, I imagined his reprimanding glare for holding on to revenge, but also the glint of pride in his eyes at knowing a debt had been paid.
Now, I knew any glint of pride would be dashed with I told you so.
“How is he today?” I asked James, the orderly who worked with my grandpa the most.
“Better.” His answer was quickly followed by a wince that had me wincing with him, imagining what had happened. “Two days ago, not so much.”
“What happened?”
“I had family matters to attend to, and it was Asher’s day off,” he explained, referring to the other orderly who helped out. “So, Jane worked with him.”
“Shit,” I groaned, wiping my hand down my face.
“He uh…it wasn’t the best day to have her with him.”
He rubbed the back of his neck like the memory alone brought back the tension. I could relate.
“What did he do?”
“You know it’s not him. His brain…it just…it’s different now.” I appreciated James’s attempt to avoid answering and trying to smooth over any wrongdoings.
“I know. It doesn’t make it easier.”
“It never does for anyone. Watching someone’s mind fade is hard—watching them become a completely different person in the process is impossible. If you ever need to talk…”
He left it hanging like he always did, waiting for me to take him up on his offer. Like always, I shook my head. “What did he do?”
“He flashed her. Like all of himself.”
“Jesus.”
“And tried to chase her when she ran from the room.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah. She’s fine, and Charlie’s apologized at least a million times. Ordered flowers and chocolates and drops his head like a kicked dog whenever she comes around.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for the anger to surface like it did every time I got updates on how his dementia affected him that week. Instead, I just hurt.
I had no more revenge to cling to. I had no wife to hold on to.
No, I was left with what I already had and with nothing to do but face it, and it just plain, flat-out hurt. Now, I was left with knowing what it could feel like when I had it all. I knew taking Lorenzo’s company from him wouldn’t fix my grandpa, but I’d hoped it would—I don’t know. Ease any of this weight pressing in on me. Maybe it would have made it easier to manage—to understand and accept. Instead, I still wanted to rage and make it all go away. I was still pissed he was fading from me, slipping through my fingers like sand.
Maybe that was the theme of my life. I had people long enough just to make me love them, and then they slipped away.