30. Punch To The Gut

DARREN

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I stand at the curb of the Washington Convention Center where I just finished a grueling six hours of writing essays on family law and conflicts. I wait impatiently for Bailey to pull through traffic so we can be on our way to the airport. I packed everything before I left, made arrangements on my way to the exam.

Excitement has taken hold of me when all logic says I should be ready to pass out because the Bar exam sucks the life out of you.

But I feel good.

It was the fear of failing and not being able to step out of my father's shadow that kept me grounded for so long, but right now, I feel like flying.

I nailed it.

I can feel it in my bones, and all I want to do is take Evangeline's face in my hands and kiss her because I feel like I can set the world on fire.

I check my phone, seeing a few texts from Alistair wishing me luck, and then another one with a meme of a celebrity toasting a glass of champagne with the caption that says, cheers old fellow, you just passed the Bar exam.

I press dial and he picks up immediately. "I'm renting out The Tombs tonight so we can celebrate!" he yells into the phone. "Even though you didn't do the same for me when I passed my series seven," he mentions with an accusatory tone.

"Okay, first of all, the series seven is a three-hour exam that any buffoon can pass, and the bar exam is a two-day event on how to acclimate yourself to torture techniques," I yell into the phone. "And second, I won't know if I passed for two months."

"Shit, I'll have to call you back," Alistair relents in a dejected tone. "I wonder if I can get my deposit back. Oh, who cares? And by the way, I resent your tone. I studied very hard for that exam."

He sounds offended enough for me to feel bad about calling him a buffoon. "I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean that. It's been a very long day. Evangeline's grandmother died," I explain.

"Shit, that's awful, I'm sorry."

"We're flying to Arizona right away."

"Arizona is the seventh circle of hell," Alistair groans.

"When have you been to Arizona?" I inquire.

"A festival a few years ago when you ditched me to go to Belize with that model."

"I don't remember that."

"Convenient."

While Alistair blabbers, I check the curb again, but there's no sign of Bailey. Figures today of all days there would be some kind of traffic jam, and I can only hope it's not a Presidential motorcade.

"I told her I loved her," I interrupt him in a rush.

There's silence on the other end, which is rare for Alistair.

"Hello?" I say into the phone before holding it away from my ear to check if he hung up on me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here," he says.

"Shouldn't come as a shock. Even you saw it," I remind him. "I couldn't let her go back to Arizona without telling her, Alistair."

"Because you were afraid she wouldn't come back?" he inquires, sparking a pebble of insecurity.

"Of course not, why would you think that?"

"She has no reason to fulfill the contract now, Darren. You gave her access to the money." Alistair is not supposed to be the voice of reason, but here I am, doubting myself.

"I gave her access to it because it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to hold her to something that should have never been a condition in the first place." I run a hand through my hair and look up at the grey sky.

I hear Alistair sigh on the other end and I stop breathing, my heart no longer pressing against my chest with vigor.

"She wouldn't," as soon as I say it, I can feel my heart seize like an electric shock trying to bring it back to life.

She didn't say it back last night, but I felt it in the way she kissed me. I felt it in the way she gave her whole self to me. At least that's what I had thought. When I left this morning, she was still asleep, and I didn't want to wake her. Perhaps I thought if she opened her eyes and didn't look back at me the way I was looking at her, it might break me.

I needed to get my head in the game because I broke all my rules.

Stupid rules about sex before an exam.

Reckless rules about falling in love.

"Look, I know how it sounds, but you know Evan, she's never been interested in the money. It was so she could pay for her grandmother's care, and well, her grandmother passed away."

"I thought I knew her, too," he offers sympathetically, and his tone makes me uneasy. He knows something I don't.

"Did she take the money?" I question, gripping the phone tightly.

"You know I can't tell you that. It's against the law."

"Since when are you ever worried about walking a straight line?" I ask, angrily.

"Darren, don't do this to yourself," he pleads.

"I'm standing on this fucking curb and she's not here. I need to know," I practically beg, knowing there is a tremor in my voice that I can't hide.

"Darren…" he tries to reason with me.

"Did she take the fucking money?!"

Alistair sighs and I know he's given in. "I got the liquidation order this morning."

"Fuck!" I want to punch something, to throw my phone into the concrete sidewalk, but I don't. That was the old Darren.

"Darren? Darren!" is all I hear before hanging up the phone, just as Bailey pulls up at the curb.

I yank the car door open before Bailey can get out, knowing she's not in there but still feeling shocked when the backset is empty.

"Where is she?"

Bailey gives me a sympathetic look. "I took Mrs. Walker to the airport this morning."

I slide into the back seat and slam the door.

"I'm sorry, boss," Bailey offers. "I thought you knew."

I rub my chin and look out the window as we pull into traffic. "No, I did not know."

I should be angry at him for taking orders from her, for letting her leave, but it's not his fault. He was just doing his job. I was gonna let her leave before, but things are different now. I fucking told her I loved her.

Jesus!

"Take me home."

She left and took the money.

It"s like a punch to the gut.

Maybe I should have seen it coming.

As soon as we pull alongside the curb, I shove the door open and bound up the porch, into the house, taking the stairs two at a time, only to find the guest room, her room, empty. As if I thought I would find anything different.

The only thing left behind is my Georgetown t-shirt, neatly folded on the bed, with her ring sitting on top of it.