Chapter 2

2

D AVID

I push through the door of my hotel suite, my hand already on my tie knot, loosening it.

The window is cracked open––I left it that way––and it’s cold inside the room.

A long breath rolls into my lungs.

I couldn’t wait to get back.

Softly rustling, my jacket slides off my frame, and I almost drop it on the chair before draping it over my shoulders. I toss my tie on the chair and spin to the bar.

I need a drink.

My attention has been scattered the entire evening.

Despite actively participating in the business–centered conversations, I couldn’t not think about her.

The bourbon rolls over the ice cubes in the short, plump glass when I reach inside my pocket and pull out my phone.

It rings before I have the chance to call her.

I tap the screen, grab the glass, and move to the armchair. The piece of furniture faces the window, allowing me to spoil myself with the view of the city's tall, lit architectural marvels.

“James. What a nice surprise,” I say softly before taking a swig of hard liquor.

He laughs at the other end of the line.

“I’ve heard things are all right.”

“More than all right. I might only need to spend a couple more weeks here.”

“That’s great news.”

He pauses for a moment.

“I know the holidays are just around the corner…” he says, and tension claims my jaw.

“Uh-huh.”

It isn’t like him not to be direct.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I say as he still ponders his words.

“Would you be interested in traveling to Singapore again?’

“Uh… Something happened?”

“No. Everything’s all right, but I need someone to oversee the transition.”

He’s recently hired some new executives for the newly created branch.

“Okay. Sure,” I say quickly to stifle a horrible reaction.

I know how these things work. Expanding a business operation is no small thing.

I will need to get on it, accomplish what I’m supposed to accomplish, and return as fast as I can.

My thoughts get caught in a surge of crippling anxiety.

Of course I have a good reason to come back as quickly as possible.

This news comes with a bit of deja vu.

I pulled away from a woman many years ago when I had left for deployment overseas.

We had an understanding.

We were in love. The world was our oyster. We had big plans for the future.

Starting a family, and all that.

Maybe it seemed trivial, but to us, it was everything we had.

Things didn’t turn out the way we wanted, and my life has never been the same.

This is not that.

But my heart doesn’t know. It can’t tell the difference.

And my brain thinks this might be that.

Of course, I’m considering several ways to make this work.

But it’s going to be complicated.

“You might need to go there straight from New York,” James says, and now I understand his hesitation.

It makes sense.

Even for me, who spends most of my life on planes and moving from one place to another, this cuts into the time I might want to spend in one area without thinking about business.

Strangely, any other time, this kind of schedule could’ve worked.

What’s not to like, right?

Jet setting around the world, heading to the most interesting destinations, spending time in luxurious hotels, eating exquisite food, and benefiting from the presence and company of beautiful women.

It’s way better than having everybody spend their time in their lavishly decorated homes, getting ready for the holidays.

Way better.

Or so I thought.

It used to be like that.

Now? Not so much so.

I’m going back to that pestering thought that even now, as he and I are on the phone, speaking, I’d rather be in Colorado, on a certain woman’s couch, her legs locked around my waist, her body naked, her eyes––mystified and curious––trained on me.

I have to make this work.

I don’t know how, but I have to.

“Give me the schedule, and I’ll figure it out,” I say curtly.

“My secretary has forwarded it to Julie,” he says.

I notice relief in his voice, and it’s only natural.

I would feel relieved if I were him.

Maybe I’m no longer cut for this type of existence.

Maybe something else from my distant past started to hover over me.

My memory takes me back to the man who’d never had grandiose dreams aside from building a life with the woman he loved.

Despite being so damn young, I knew what I wanted, yet here I am now. With so much power, so many more things to my name, and so much wisdom, albeit overthinking everything.

“All right,” he says. “Things all right otherwise?” he asks, shifting the topic.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

A few awkward seconds slip by before I speak.

“What made you hesitate?” I ask directly.

His answer doesn’t come immediately.

“You seemed to be pondering something else,” I go on.

“I thought you found someone to spend the end of the year with,” he says. “And Gavin just confirmed it. I wasn’t sure you were willing to travel extensively and be away from Colorado these next few weeks.”

I can’t not notice how sharp he is in his assessment.

“What makes you think it’s someone in Colorado.”

He laughs at the other end of the line.

“How well do you know me, man?” James says, prompting me to smile.

“You think it might be someone important enough to make me tailor my travel plans accordingly?” I toss back at him.

“I hope she is.”

I chuckle and ponder for a moment.

“What would happen if she was someone important?” I ask in a much sober voice.

“You’d need to get your priorities straight.”

“Are you talking about our business dealings?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re too big and powerful to be subservient to that. And I’m perfectly aware you don’t need to do any of that. You’re practically doing me a favor. That’s not to say I don’t value your expertise. Trust me, no company would go bankrupt if you didn’t do what I asked you to do, but the incentives are there. That aside, I’m all for you prioritizing your personal life. That’s why I said what I said. Let me know how it works, and we’ll figure something out if you can't cover the entire period.”

“I can do it,” I say. “It’s just that I might be traveling back and forth.”

“It’s up to you, man. And I do expect you to spend the holidays with us. You can bring your new woman over to our house.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

He laughs again.

“You know better. You seemingly have a thing for writers. Maybe this one is meant to be the one.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say, smiling.

“All right, man. Keep me updated.”

We end the call, and I place the phone down, slowly sighing.

I once had thought I met the one.

A swig of hard liquor rolls down my throat before my phone rings again.

Slowly moving the tip of my tongue over my lip, I pick it up and glance at my phone.

“Miranda?”

A trickle of angst stirs in me. My first thought goes to Julie.

“Is everything all right?” I ask tensely, placing my drink on a side table and leaning forward, a hand rubbing the back of my neck.

“Hi. Yes. I’m sorry for this,” Miranda says.

Her voice is relaxed. Thank God.

“No problem. I just didn’t expect your call. Is Julie fine?”

Her soft chuckle reminds me of Anna.

“Julie is more than fine. She just left. We had dinner and talked about you. She told me you’re in New York.”

Less tense, I sag back in my chair.

“I’m here for work.”

“That’s what she said. Anyway, I wanted to call you and ask you how your schedule looks.”

“Uh… My schedule just got busier.”

“I thought so.”

She seems at peace with it, but I know Miranda. She is one of the most attentive, courteous, selfless people I’ve ever known.

She always puts everybody else before herself.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make time for you.”

A pause ensues.

“The anniversary of her death is coming soon,” she says.

A pang of guilt zips through me.

All these years, I’ve never needed a reminder about Anna’s death.

Yet, in the past months, that particular thought has never surfaced in my head.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about her. It’s just that, for once, she and I were no longer at war.

It must be that I have finally accepted that the way our story spun out of control and destroyed our lives before whisking her away was how things were meant to be.

She seems quiet, too.

Still present in the back of my mind, she’s no longer grieving, hiding, trying to convince me she has done the right thing.

And that makes me believe that she, perhaps, regretted everything, although she never dared to confess and give me closure.

She might’ve done it if her time on this earth weren’t so short.

So many words we could’ve said to each other remained unspoken.

So many answers could’ve ended the annoying questions instead of being scattered in the wind.

We’ve been at odds for so long, with me stuck in this reality and her sailing into eternity behind the shimmering veil.

We couldn’t see eye to eye for a while before we found a way to live with one another, as I was captive to this dimension, and she became a ghost.

And then things started to improve.

Julie has changed a lot for us, although it felt like Anna's ghost had been reluctant to the idea of me taking care of her daughter.

Miranda, on the other hand, considered it a blessing.

And Julie?

Well, Julie has just been Julie.

She inherited some of her mother’s stubbornness, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

Forgetting about Anna’s death anniversary is a first.

And it isn’t like I forgot the date.

It’s just the anniversary of her death hasn’t hovered over my head the way it used to in the past.

“I’ll be there,” I say, knowing full well that returning to Colorado for Anna’s anniversary will add a new layer of complexity to my already complicated life.

And I haven’t even talked to Elizabeth.

Where does she fit in all this chaos?

How will I make it work?

I had to convince her to visit me here, and the few days we spent together almost made me want to go back.

I’ll need to cut the business meetings short and fly back on the weekends.

And then?

I’ll need to come up with something else.

“Good,” she murmurs.

“Make sure you bake one of those pies,” I say to lift her spirits.

“Always,” she says, a smile lining her voice.

We end the call, and I put my phone back for the second time.

Propped against the back of the chair, I close my eyes, thoughts swirling around in my head.

Anna… Julie… Elizabeth.

Three women who broke into my soul like thieves in the middle of the night.

Anna was my first love, the woman who had stolen my heart, pocketed it, and moved on faster than I could blink, leaving me broken.

Julie is the living memory of her mother.

She has spunk and is driven. In many regards, she is fearless.

I don’t know how much Miranda had told her about Anna and me. Probably not much. Not the essential parts, anyway.

Not that Anna and I hadn’t sworn eternal love to each other, been inseparable for a while, albeit short, and written desperate letters to one another when I was away, thinking that the world would come to a swift end if we didn’t touch and quench the heat we’d wrestled with one more meager time.

It was that kind of love.

The one burning everything in its path.

The one with no patience, wisdom, clarity, mercy, or balance.

The reckless, irrational, consumptive, stern kind, and not in the least, accommodating.

We thought we could make it work.

We didn’t.

It took a long while before things had come full circle, and Miranda and I sat down.

No, she didn’t tell Julie who I was. To her, I’ve always been her mother’s good friend. In the same way, I’ve been a good friend to Miranda––Anna’s sister.

Time has worked its magic, coloring over the unsavory parts of this story with bright tones of hope.

Once I walked out of my marriage and came to terms with what my life had been, I felt less pain, regret, and thirst for vengeance.

It was a rocky journey, and I had a lot to do with it.

Running a hand over my face, I mute the ringer and get ready to call Elizabeth.

Quietly, Julie’s name flashes across the screen.

Tonight is surely one of those nights when ghosts from the past and other forces are at play, trying to decide what my life will look like in the next few months.

“Julie,” I say, taking the call. “How are things?”

“Things are all right.”

A background noise drifts to me.

“Where are you?” I ask, checking the time.

It’s late in Colorado.

“I’m walking into the Casino.”

I pull upright.

“Why?”

“Doing some business,” she says, amused.

“Julie?”

She laughs.

“Don’t get all worked up. Things are under control. I just need to get some paperwork for James.”

The noise subsides, and her footsteps ring against the floors.

“He asked you to do that?”

“No. I mean, yes. No.”

She seems to be pushing a door open before silence surrounds her.

I’m hoping it's the door to my office.

“His secretary had sent me your new schedule, and I thought putting all the business information together would be a good start. It would be easier for you.”

“Why now? It’s late. You should be home.”

“You know me, Boss. I’m a night owl. Besides, I just had the most outrageously delicious dinner at Miranda’s house and don’t feel like sleeping. I might hit the gym later.”

“You should not.”

She chuckles, entertained.

“The gym crawls with bodyguards, so you shouldn’t be worried.”

“It’s them I’m worried about.”

“You shouldn’t be. They’re not my type.”

Laughing, I relax in my seat.

“You don’t have a type, Julie,” I remind her.

“You don’t know that.”

“What’s your type?”

She goes silent, and I hear the distinct sound of a drawer being pulled open and the click of a mouse.

“Julie?”

“I don’t know,” she says, no longer focused on me. “Someone like you, I guess?”

“You’re fucking with me. Goth girls don’t like men like me.”

Her laugh echoes in my ears.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Okay…” she says before sighing. “I don’t have a type. But the bodyguards shouldn’t be your problem. They don’t like girls like me.”

“While I appreciate your spin on the story, that doesn’t quench my worries.”

“No worries, Boss. No one can take me down. You know me. I’m fierce.”

A smile broadens across my lips as I imagine Julie, with her beautiful loose pink locks and blue eyes, sitting in my chair, her gaze trained on the computer screen.

“What are you wearing?”

“Boss?? That’s inappropriate,” she says, laughing.

“I wasn’t flirting. I only need to know how you dressed.”

She clicks her tongue in a tease, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“You want to know if I have on a skintight dress and wear fuck me shoes.”

“That’s inappropriate.”

“The fuck me shoes is?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I came from Miranda’s place. So what do you think I’m wearing?”

“I want to hear it from you. Humor me.”

“Dressy pants, a blouse, and a coat.”

A weight lifts off my chest.

“Happy?” she says.

“Yes. So you’re not going to the gym.”

“No. Of course not. So you’ve talked to Miranda?” she says, shifting to a different topic.

“Yes, I have.”

“Are you flying to Colorado?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t know when exactly, but I’ll find out in a few days, maybe a week.”

“I can’t wait.“

“You’re facetious.”

“No, I’m not.”

Her fingers stop.

“I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but I kind of want you to be here for Christmas.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can swing by Miranda’s place. It’s only going to be her and me this year.”

As if it has ever been different.

“Okay…” I say softly.

“You know I like Miranda.”

“Not by choice,” I joke, and she laughs, enjoying my humor.

Miranda was right when she suggested not to ever tell Julie about how much of a role her mother played in my life.

That’s why I said what I said. I don’t know how much Miranda actually told her about those little things defining me.

We did the right thing by not telling her that the big story in my life happened to be her mother.

That tale will remain locked in a memory tomb, where the remains of an old love story have been laid to rest.

It wouldn’t do any good to anyone to breathe life into something that refused to happen.

She’s here.

She’s happy.

Miranda has taken great care of her.

And I’ve done the same.

To her, I'm her boss.

And I surely am.

But she is so much more to me than she could ever understand.

“So, yes…” she goes on. “It would be nice if you showed up.”

“Unlike the last time when I didn’t show up.”

She meets my comment with amusement. Although we both know I have failed. I promised her I’d see Miranda, and then I left, and my plans shattered.

And now I’m making another promise I might not be able to keep.

I’m making it anyway.

“I will be in Colorado for Christmas.”

“That’s a big announcement. And commitment. There’s still a lot of time til Christmas.”

“Yes, there is. But I’ll make it work this time. I promise you.”

A few moments pass.

She seems sunk in thought.

“Julie?”

“Yes,” she says. “Thank you,” she adds softly.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Your promise.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I suddenly realize that something has to change in my life.