Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,87
going to send him back out the door.
“Mom and I haven’t talked once since I walked out four years ago. I knew what I was doing was so wrong—ˮ
“You fucking think?” Outrage. Pure, blinding outrage is all I feel. My vision goes white for a moment as anger and alcohol rush through my system. He takes a hurried step back as a frightened look flashes across his face, his hands out with palms up in a gesture of surrender.
“And I needed to remove myself from the situation to stop. I was going through some dark times back then, Marlena. I know you didn’t really grasp what was going on, but my life was dark. I had lost my job, and I spent my nights drunk, pissing away the money I had saved to get us out of there.”
“That’s a poor excuse. You left me! Mom didn’t have it in her to crawl out of the despair she found when Dad left us, and you left me with her.” I’m insulted by the way he’s speaking to me. We had a plan, and at the last second, he ditched me like some unwanted burden. Just like our father.
“I’m fucking sorry!” he yells, and the sudden power of his emotion stops me cold. My gaze lifts to find his, and the sight of his watery lashes causes goose bumps to race up my arms. God, he’s in pain. Just like me, he’s still in pain.
“Marlena, I just came here to say I’m sorry. It took me four years to get to the point where I could face you again. I wanted you to know I’ve spent this entire time dragging myself out of rock bottom. And I can understand if you can’t forgive me, but I’m begging you to try.”
I down my glass of wine, trying and failing to control my shaking hands. Carly reaches for my hand, and I grasp it, grateful for the lifeline I desperately need in this moment.
“You need to leave,” I whisper hoarsely. My body is trembling, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“Please—ˮ
“No! You don’t get to stand here and beg me to listen to you apologize! Nothing you can say will change or fix what you did to me. I now know that you are still alive, and let me tell you I am thrilled you’re getting your shit together. Because despite everything, I still love you! However, I am done giving you a precious second of my life. If you want forgiveness, you’re going to have to give me time.” My voice is deadly calm.
Carly is still clutching my hand as he turns towards the door. I’m trying to hold it together until he’s gone, but inside I’m breaking apart.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I throw myself onto my back. No tears, no anger, I’m just spent. That’s the problem with unconditional love. No matter how badly a person screws up, forgiveness is always within reach, even when I wish it wasn’t.
My best friend brushes the strands of dark, brown hair out of my face. “You okay?” she asks, the concern on her face tearing at my heart. Sitting up, I scrub the heel of my hand over my tired eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I try to smile, but I know it’s weak. Carly doesn’t comment, instead she fills my wine glass. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” We clank glasses, and I take a hefty gulp. Just as I reposition myself on the couch, another loud tap sounds from the door. Carly and I exchange a questioning look.
“This is getting ridiculous,” I mutter, stomping into the foyer. “Can I help you?” I ask when I fling the door open to an unfamiliar face. The man before me looks to be about six feet tall, with some bulk and that softness that comes with age. The baldness of his head and wrinkles around his eyes help me place him around my parents’ age—nearing sixty. The scent of stale cigarettes wafts from his stained white tee and ripped Levi’s near where I’m standing in the doorway.
“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am. I live in apartment 316.”
“Okay?” I reply, questioningly.
“Oh, right. This package arrived outside my door, but the address is clearly your apartment. Wanted to return it to its rightful owner. Goodnight, Ma’am.” The man walks back down the hallway without another word.
I call out my thanks, but he’s already disappeared down the stairwell. Closing and locking the door behind me, I study the