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Finally, he clears his throat and asks, “You don’t want me here anymore?”
Twisting around, I hold his face in my hands. “Of course, I do. I never want you to leave. I’m only saying that because I don’t know how long things will take, and my birthday is in a few weeks. Weeks where you can’t be seen in public. I can’t ask you to do that after you’ve already been hiding for so long.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I put my hand over his mouth. “I know you’d stay for me. But I can’t ask that of you. It will give me time to get everything together, put the house on the market, pack and sell everything. And …” I grin when I look at him. “It’ll give you time to miss me.”
He nuzzles at my hands, then puts his head on my chest. “I miss you now.”
The couch is big enough for us to fit comfortably, so we lie there until we both fall asleep.
Unfortunately, Michael’s private jet is available a few hours after we wake. I push him to leave as soon as possible so I can concentrate on getting everything done. If he stays, I’ll want to spend all my time with him, since I can now. That wouldn’t look good for me keeping away from suspicion and Michael keeping a low profile. I would want to be seen in public with him, have dinner, go to the movies, hold his hand, be in love out loud. That won’t work while we’re in California.
He kisses me long and deep before he breezes out the door and I stand in the middle of the foyer for a while. I miss him already.
The following few days are hectic. The house is full of people coming and going before and after the funeral, people I don’t know because they’re Conrad’s, Fallon’s, and James’s friends. Some didn’t even know I existed until after their deaths. It makes me uncomfortable to accept their condolences, but I feel like most of them are disingenuous. The way James’s coworkers have to school their expressions when they talk to me, like they’d just finished talking shit before I walked up. Not like I care. I didn’t love him and it’s obvious he wasn’t loved either.
I planned a triple funeral service—more than what they deserve honestly—and have them buried at a local cemetery that no one in attendance will probably ever visit. I hope they’re burning in hell.
The reading of James’s will is really weird. He left everything to his sons, which included my house. The lawyer that read the will seemed a little confused by that, as I informed him that the house was in my name. He sputtered and tried to cover what his colleague did, trying to fuck me over in his death. That kind of blunder could have been dragged out in court if the boys were smart.
Since his sons are dead, unless I contest it, everything goes to a distant relative that lives on the East Coast. Other than fixing the error of my home ownership, I will contest nothing. I want to be done with this as soon as possible. I sign a release for their possessions, call movers, and have everything packed up and sent off. I’m not sure where it’s all going, I just need it out of my house.
Since I plan to move, I put the house up on the market, Mr. Marks being my contact for the sale. With the housing market the way it is, I’m not sure when it will sell, but I don’t need to stick around for it.
Walking from room to room, I cringe at all the bad memories that overshadow the good. Where my mother measured me every few months against the wall is overshadowed by the day I walked in and saw James painting over it, a look of glee on his face when he saw me. I walk to the kitchen and think about the days my mother and I used to bake cookies. Then I think about all the times I would cry over the stove when I was forced to cook while I was exhausted or sick.
My bedroom wasn’t spared from bad memories. I try to think about the times Michael came to see me, cuddling in bed with me. Those memories morph into Fallon dragging me out of my bathroom by my hair, taking me to James’s office where they planned to keep me prisoner in my own house and take what was mine. Everything here is tainted. It needs to be left behind.
On the morning of my birthday, I wake up to a knock at the door. Groggy and exhausted from packing the last of my things last night, I drag my feet to the door. I’m met with a large bouquet of flowers and a package that a delivery person has a hard time keeping ahold of. He holds on to the signature pad and I sign, excited to find out who sent me something. I haven’t gotten a birthday gift in over fifteen years.
Feeling more giddy than I have in years, I take the box to the kitchen counter. There’s no return address so I don’t know who could have sent it. I’ll take a stab and guess it’s from Michael.
Smiling from ear to ear, I pull the card from the flowers and read it, tears welling.
Even though I can’t be there for your special day I want you to know
I’m thinking of you. I love you and miss you.
Michael xx
I hold the card to my chest, blinking back tears. God, I miss him so much. I didn’t think I could love someone so much so quickly. If all goes well, I’ll be with him in a few days.
Setting the card to the side, I eagerly open the box, thinking it’s a larger gift from Michael. I’m pleasantly surprised to see a photo on the top of the packing peanuts. Pulling it out, I can’t keep from smiling as I look at it. Sitting on a couch are a smiling Abel and a serious looking Savage with Pogo on his lap. On the floor in front of them, Quin sits with a blond man with a wide and beautiful smile. Beside them is Michael with a knowing grin on his face.
Turning the photo over, I see a message that says, “Meet your family.” My heart flutters and I don’t think I can contain all the love I have for Michael in my heart.
I rummage through the box and giggle when I pull out pair after pair of panties, some lace, some boy shorts. What made the box heavy and a little hard for the delivery person to keep ahold of is all the makeup that’s at the bottom. Some of it is irregularly shaped, so it moved around during transit.
The amount I pull out is staggering. I’m not sure why Michael thinks I’ll use all this in the few short days before I see him, but I appreciate that he sent me something on my actual birthday.
I pull out my phone to call him to thank him for my gift when my phone rings. I hurriedly pull it from my pocket, expecting Michael, but Abel’s name appears on the screen.
“Hey!” I shout almost excitedly, waving like an idiot.
“Hey, yourself,” he says, grinning at me. “Happy birthday! God, I wish you were here for it, but Michael told me why you can’t. Is it next week yet?”
Grinning, I hop up on the counter, not loving the silence surrounding me, but happy I’ll be out of this house soon.
Unable to keep the surprise from him, I tell Abel, “I’ll be there in three days. Michael and I were going to surprise you, but—”
Abel lets out a piercing scream and I hold the phone away from me, grinning at his exuberance. When he gets himself under control, he says, “Okay. Why would you keep that from me? We talk every day! And IseeMichael every day! Ugh! You two traitors belong together.” He pouts and I giggle. “Anyway, Michael will be calling soon. I wanted to tell you happy birthday first.”
