Page 92 of Never Till Now

“Your reasoning seems valid until you meet the right man. Until you realize the pain of what-ifs is not as important as the happiness that they can give you through the years leading up to a possible goodbye.” She goes into a coughing fit, and I lean down to listen to her lungs.

“Oh, I only have half a lung left.” I move to the other side and things become clearer.

“I’ll have the doctor give a listen and write you another prescription.” Her coughing subsides, and she clears her throat, taking a long sip of water.

“No need, dear.” She takes my hand. “Just remember, all my deathbed memories are still not enough to fill my hand that needs holding as I take my last breath.”

Her honesty whooshes the air out of my lungs.

“Don’t be me.” Her eyes become soft. “Don’t collect memories with someone and leave early in hopes that the pain of losing them, in the beginning, is easier than in the end.”

“Either way, you could end up alone.” I rationalize out loud to myself.

“When has a willing, open heart ever been denied by everyone?” Dammit, Ember has a point.

“We accept the love that we are influenced to deserve. Some of us need a reminder of how much we are worth.”

“We will run a few tests to help you feel more comfortable.” I feel my walls wanting to crumble but hold it together.

A few hours later, while holding my hand, Ember goes into cardiac arrest and checks out of this world.

Chapter 26

Adam

The urge to pick up the phone and demand my office to be gutted and soundproofed pulses through my fingers as they hover over my desk phone. My assistant has been humming every morning this week. From Monday to Friday, she hums as she goes through her damn emails. No matter how much of a grunting grump I can be to her, she still manages to smile and greet me with a cheerful hello. I shut my office door and turn on a random piano playlist while I go through my schedule. Another week of meetings and deadlines that will keep me here all day. I should be happy with this position. Everyone I run into is happy. Our employee satisfaction is ranked high, or at least up until my arrival. Maybe I missed some type of human software download the world sent out. Even Lauren managed to force out a fucking smile the other day.

An overplayed pop piano song filters through my speaker, and I’m whiplashed back to the woman I spend each day trying not to think about. Running into Lauren the other day stole my breath, throwing a whirlwind of punches to my chest. I hadn’t known torture until I saw her capability to still smile after our blowup. Sure, it was forced. It wasn’t hard to stare straight into her eyes and see “oh shit, what do I do?” flash through her layer of heartbreak.

I’m not dumb. I know the flirty smile she flashed Max masked the hurt she’d caused by ending us. I didn’t sleep that night, wondering if part of her would come knocking on my door. But now, she has wispy bangs, proving she did that thing women do after a breakup. I don’t get why new hair signifies a new you or a statement of moving on. That is one woman ritual I’ll never understand.

Clearly, she couldn’t sleep that night either, but a simple thanks made it clear she wanted to be left alone. I change the music playlist to Spanish guitar because piano and mainstream pop songs are too triggering these days. My heart confirms she may have ruined piano for good. If she was able to fake it or build enough walls to let me go, I should man up and let her go too.

With a mechanical mind, I manage to get through the day. I adjust my schedule in incremental minutes meticulously so that my mind only has time to focus on each task. I’m one thought away from adding bathroom breaks when my assistant pokes her head in and says she’s taking off for the day. I glance at the clock and realize I should have been gone an hour ago. If my day is extremely structured for tomorrow, then I’ll leave myself no time to think about any unwanted thoughts.

I shower and eat before I sit down at the piano keyboard. Having to wear headphones so I don’t disturb the guests has been an adjustment, but at least I can still lay out emotions through music. I have had trouble playing lately, but my fingers relax into the first few chords. Out of the corner of my eye, my phone lights up. No one contacts me at this hour unless it’s Mallory. I walk over to my nightstand, huffing in agitation as the unknown number calls a second time.

“Hello?” I clip, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“Adam, man.” Clyde rings through my ear. “There’s a woman at the bar tossing food around.”

“What the fuck? Call security or ask her to leave.”

“She won’t listen to me,” he states matter-of-factly. “Security said to contact you.”

“What the hell do I pay them for?” What is in this Aspen air and desperate women causing disturbances?

“They like how you quietly don’t cause a scene. If they come in with uniforms, people stare.”

“Clyde.” I give him my best “are you kidding me” tone.

“Look, man, this one might spike your interest more than the old hag.”

“This is the last damn time you’re getting me involved with this.” I hang up and take the stairs to blow off steam so I don’t blow up.

The lobby is empty as I enter the bar lounge. I keep my gaze low to avoid the statement art piece on the wall of pain. A quick survey shows zero feet are even in the damn booths. I lift my head back to look at Clyde behind the bar, but he is absent. Nothing but a vacant room until my eyes meet the far side of the bar. A woman with long blonde hair tosses shiny red balls over her shoulder.

They’re not balls.