and eat them in my penthouse. Sound good?" On my nod, he adds, "You can’t wear clothes to this party, by the way.”
Laughter bubbles up and I grin at him, still struck.
He closes his eyes and says on a stretch, “Yep. That’s the way it’s gonna be. Burgers, a naked Freckles, and eighteen hundred thread count sheets. Can’t wait.” The gorgeous muscles of his arms and neck tighten, reaching out. He relaxes and looks at me like, doesn’t that sound great?
“It sounds perfect,” I say on a big smile just as the nurse comes in to take him to the M. R.I. “Have fun.” I wave my fingertips.
His smirk lets me know that he’s not talking about the M.R.I. “Oh, I will.”
Alone, I walk to the window and look out into darkness. I have a moment to sit and be still, let the quiet settle into me. The reflection of myself in the window as the light from Room 323 catches it against the black night sky, shows a woman I’ve worked hard to become. Comfortable in my own skin, mostly. Able to accept friendship, albeit awkwardly. Optimistic about the future, very.
The only definite is one thing: I never expect anything. They say expectations are the road to unhappiness and disappointment. For me, I can’t have them because when you’ve changed as much as I have, trusted when you normally wouldn’t, loved when you were afraid to, reached out when all you wanted to do was hide – the world opens up and becomes completely unpredictable. Expecting anything is impossible when you know that anything can happen if you let it.
I bring my finger up and trace the shape of a heart on the glass. I’m going home with Brendan tonight. I’m going to be there by his side while he heals. It’s exactly what I hoped for when I came here the day after the shooting, before Rebecca verbally slapped that hope out of me.
It’s come full circle. See? Unpredictable, I think to myself.
Smiling, I step away from the window and walk to my ringing phone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rebecca
Hands: tight on the wheel. Eyes: narrow slits locked on the third floor window. Mind: invidious machinations swirling ‘round.
People don’t know that at night when the lights are on inside, it’s like they’re on a T.V. screen for the whole outside world to see. And I watched. I watched as she opened the curtains. I watched as she talked to him over her shoulder, laughing. I stared up at her face as she drew a fucking heart on the glass and nearly made me scream and run into the hospital to drag her out by her hair.
What can I do to end this bullshit? What can I do? This can’t be happening. There must be a way to get rid of her. To make things go back to how they were.
Did Brendan mean what he said? Did he tell Tommy not to see me tonight? I would think he would have called. I pick up my phone and check it, but there are only calls I’m still avoiding from back home; Bree and Deanna asking about the banquet we’re planning, Louise wondering why I’ve not responded and what should she do next with the community garden project proposal, and the cat sitter wondering where I am.
With every cell in my being, I want to see Tommy for more reasons than to just piss Brendan off. I need his hands on me to let me know I’m not too old to be wanted. That I’m not a castaway left behind for the next generation of women. And I need to do something with this anger because it is eating me alive. I need to fuck it out. I need to fuck someone and I need to fuck someone, hard. And not just any someone. I need to fuck the one person Brendan wouldn’t want me to.
I don’t give a flying shit if it’s a bad idea. Or if Tommy’s too young for me, too. Or if Brendan will be furious. Those are all perfect reasons to fly into the hands of the devil, for all I care.
Putting my car into gear, I throw one more look up to the window, before pulling out and heading back to The Inn.
If Tommy doesn’t show up, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Annie
Christiano: staring at me with a spatula in his hand. My heart: filled with guilt and self-loathing.
I stare until it goes to voicemail. I have