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I stayed still when he flatlined, holding his hand when he slipped from the living to the dead. It was hard to make sense of what I was feeling. In a way, I was grateful for the journey with him. In another, I despised him for putting both of us through it.
A nurse rushed into the room a few moments after his EKG had signaled his loss of life. I slipped my hand away and sat straight.
“I’m sorry about your father,” she said quietly, buzzing in someone with another one of the endless buttons by Charlie’s bed.
“What makes you think he was my father?” I eyed her.
She looked between us, confused. “Oh, sorry, I thought ...”
“He was,” I interjected, and I realized that weirdly enough, today, hedidfeel like my dad. “You’re right. He was.”
Duffy opened the door, looking ashen. Her eyes were red, and her shoulders were slumped. She’d never looked more beautiful than she was right here, in front of me.
“Oh, Riggs.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she cupped her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
That night, Duffy and I went home together, stumbled into her bed together, and had sex together. We both needed that, and the excuse was there—we were broken, we were hurt; if there ever was a chance to make one last mistake, it was tonight. Besides, sex was the antithesis of death. It symbolized life. Lust. Passion. Warmth.
We touched slow, we kissed slow, we loved slow.
When the sun rose and I woke up—now truly orphaned, no second chances, no returns, no surprises—Duffy wasn’t in bed.
I strolled out of her bedroom shirtless, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. She stood in the kitchen, making us both oatmeal and fruit.
She swiveled to the sound of my approaching feet. She wore an oversize shirt of mine and threw a small smile my way. “Hey, you. How’d you sleep? Hope you’re hungry.”
I could tell by the look in her eyes that she thought last night was a reconciliation. I should’ve made it clear that it wasn’t. The hope swimming in her irises was about to be doused with gasoline.
“Let’s talk.” I tilted my head toward the couch.
She followed me to the sofa, sitting primly with her hands crossed in her lap. I was going to miss her stance. The little, disapproving purse of her lips. Her sarcasm, and goodwill, and quirky fascination with waffles. But it had to be done. I couldn’t go around getting hurt by people. Sticking around, making sacrifices, only to be disappointed. Plus, Duffy was a high-risk investment. Women who were after money were after power, and there would always be someone with more power in their vicinity. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to keep her.
“I’m boarding a plane to Morocco today.”
Her facial expression didn’t change, other than one minor flinch. “Of course. You said you have work there. Maybe when you get back home—”
“I have no home,” I said, cutting into her words. “This is your apartment, not mine. In fact, I’ve outstayed my welcome. We’ve already filed our application, complete with all the necessary proof that we live together. No point in prolonging the inevitable.”
“You’re moving out?” Her mouth slacked. Micko used the opportunity to jump on the couch and settle in the small gap between us, shifting her glare left and right to see who’d be the first to pet her.
I rubbed behind her ear absentmindedly. “Don’t worry about Micko. Winnie wants her. Arsène is going to kill me, but I know she’ll take good care of her.”
Besides, Arsène had always wanted to kill me. Nothing new under the sun.
“Wh-where will you stay in New York?” She blinked.
“Christian’s. Arsène’s. The usual.” I stood up, knowing that every moment I stayed brought me closer to changing my mind and begging her for a chance. “Don’t worry about the interview, though. I’ll be there, and we’ll ace it. All right?”
I could tell she was in shock. I could also tell that I was fucking in love with this woman. Seeing her hurt destroyed me so thoroughly I was surprised I was still able to stand on my two feet. I felt like my soul had been pulled from my body by a rusty rake and tossed into the depths of hell.
But that was exactly why I had to leave.
I was in love with a woman who wanted an arrangement.
And me? I wanted the whole fucking deal.
“So it’s over?” She rose up slowly. “You and me?”
Say no. It’s not. Grab her. Kiss her. Throw your heart on the line. Be a fucking man, Riggs. You’ve climbed mountains. You’ve braved rain forests. Do it, goddammit.
