Of course he'd be the one person on the planet to find me. Three and a half months of peace and quiet, hidden deep in the wilds of the U.P. at one of my sister's cabin hideaway. Time to heal my heart and soul. Well, maybe not totally heal either of those, maybe just long enough for a thick scab to grow over the nagging aches. I'd stepped onto my front porch to grab some wood for the fire, not noticing the big four wheel drive truck parked beside mine. Never saw him either, standing beside it.
After dropping my load of split wood into the box and tossing a couple of pieces into the stove, I heard a knocking at my door. I frowned at it, even as I stood to move to it. I held the handle, debating on whether or not to open it, feeling the whole door shake with the psycho banging on the other side.
"Who the..." I snarled, whipping the door open wide.
There he stood. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair slick and dirty under his hat. His normally tanned skin, pale as never before. His shoulders slumped. His hand still raised to knock, shaking, in open air. My husband. Literally, the man of and in my dreams. Every night.
"Dari."
"You! What the fuck do you want? Y'know what? Don't even bother to start talking. Just get back in however you got here and go the fuck away."
"Now that I see that you're alright, not a problem." His whiskey voice sending shivers and aches through my traitorous body. I watched him turn and walk back to the truck, still feeling my heart thump madly just seeing him. Even if it's seeing him walking away.
I watched until he climbed into the truck and started it, meeting his eyes through the windshield and wishing I could just run and be with my husband again before I went inside and slammed the door.
"My god, she's amazing." He breathed, trapped by her blazing green eyes, the fearlessness straightening her much slighter frame. He started the truck when he realized he was staring at her closed door.
He drove back to his hotel room in a haze of memories so vivid he could taste her. Her mouth. Her quim. Her sweet cum. He parked outside of his hotel room, sighing with the emptiness that filled him. Resolved to continue his sobriety, he shambles unsteadily to his door, unlocked it and went in, leaning heavily on it.
His eyes took in the run down, shabby, outdated room and realized just how far he'd fallen. Every one of his dreams had come true and he threw them all away. 'For what? Why?' he asked himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror across the room.
He shrugged out of the heavy winter coat, letting it drop to the floor as he shakily made his way to the mirror. He flicked on the harsh overhead light, glaring into his own eyes.
"Because I believed a lie. I let myself get gut hooked and let them rip me apart. I let my daughter," here, he swallowed hard, watching the tears rise in his eyes, "lie to me and let me ruin my own life. And I fucking destroyed it. Smashed it to fucking bits."
"But why did I believe it? Even when I knew," he gazed steadily into his own eyes, imploring for answers, "knew it all was shit and smoke and mirrors. It doesn't matter what happened then. It made her who she is now."
"And she's fucking amazing. She's indestructible. And what are you?" he glared, feeling the anger rising in his chest. "You're a fucking drunk. Fucking pitiful has been drunk."
The phone in his room rang, startling him from his self-examination. He sighed sadly, shivering through his detox, as he shuffled to the bed.
"Hello?"
"Key, did you find her? Is she alright?" Jazz's voice came over the line. He could hear the worry in her voice, same as with her other sister, Helena.
"She's alright. She's amazing. Let her be. She's working something out. From her greeting, I think she'll be contacting you soon."
"I can't thank you enough, Key."
"Don't worry about it." He said and hung up. He stared at his hands, thinking what his next move would be. A few minutes later, his buddy Nick opened the door and came in.
"Did you find her?"
"Yeah."
"She okay?"
"Oh, yeah. She's indestructible."
"She still pissed at you?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Figure out how to get her back yet?"
"Groveling. Lots of groveling. Begging too. I might have to lose some blood too at some point." Kian answered, lifting his gaze to Nick's face. "Even then, she might just throw it back in my face and walk away completely."
"If she really wanted to be gone, Key, she'd have filed papers and had you served. You'd probably already be divorced."
"You think...?"
"Maybe. Just maybe. Take a fucking shower already."
That was eight months ago. The impetus for me to regain the world. Rise from the ashes in a blaze of unholy glee. A new book, the whirlwind of interviews, promotions, meet and greets and signings.
Keelan McRory, my new agent, led me into the large function room for this meet and greet. I shook hands with other authors and/or celebrities on this multi panel extravaganza and found my seat.
"Keelan, I need a drink."
"What'll you have? Tequila again?"
"A double please, before the doors open."
"Better come with then." She led me to the bar hidden in the corner. The bartender fixed up my shots, lime and chaser and a to-go bottle full of margaritas. Feeling steadier, I took my seat again with Keelan hovering behind me.
It's been the only way to make me claw and spit and fight my way back through the crowds of up and comings, intent on taking my crown. Keelan made me care about that anyway.
New and terrifying phobias abused me daily. Afraid of public events. Afraid of being alone in crowds. Afraid of whoever may decide my future for me, be it me, a lover or stalker. Afraid of running into my husband. Afraid of what I still feel for him. Afraid of the emptiness I feel without him. Needing alcohol to face all this shit.
Feeling the two shots of tequila warming my veins, I took a deep breath and let it out as the doors opened and humanity poured in. Throughout the six hour event, I sipped at the to-go cup and had it refilled twice.
My fan line was interminable and I just kept signing and smiling. Until I looked up into my husband's amber eyes. I lost the ability to breathe. He held out my newest hard cover for me to sign. I looked at the blank page and back up to his eyes, not seeing the dark circles, the pain haunting him from my booze addled brain.
I took his book, scrawled my name and no more and shoved it back to him. I saw his mouth move but heard nothing over the roaring in my ears. I blinked seeing him walk away, those broad shoulders, still slumped, but, sigh, holding my book tight to his chest.
"What did he say?" I asked Keelan after the last book was signed.
"He said that he was sorry that he ever believed the worst about you. And how there was no way he could ever make it right." I snorted in disbelief as she led me out to her car, buckled my extremely drunk ass into her passenger seat. "He still seems heartbroken, desperate."
I didn't hear that either as I was already passed out.
Her eyes when she saw me were haunted, startled. Huge and green. They made my heart ache, knowing her pain was my fault. I'd brought the copy of her newest book I'd bought in the airport two days ago. Her words enflamed me, made me realize she was the only one who could complete me.
I let the memories flood me as I waited at the end of the line. She'd written of our last vacation before the shit hit the fan. The way I'd seduced her on the beach, made her scream. The way her eyes had gazed at me as we'd finally crawled exhausted and sated into bed. Like I was everything to her.
When she'd looked up, her eyes huge, I knew I had to say something.
"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am, my angel. I never should've listened, let alone believe all that shit. I know now that you were the best thing I ever had in my life. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my own stupidity."
She scribbled her name and shoved the book back. Shoved it back like it burned her fingers. I picked it up, curled it to my chest as I turned, feeling her gaze still on me. I glanced back, finding her eyes still fixed on me, a dream hinting there before she blinked, shook herself and took another swig from the to go cup.
From the doorway, I watched her agent/handler gather her up and lead her to the side exit. When she stumbled in the doorway I realized that she was drunk and my heart sank.
"Please, whatever gods are up there and listening to me, let her stop hurting so much. Make her pain my own. Let me take it from her. Please. I still love her." I whispered, watching her flow like a puddle into the passenger seat.
It was another three months before I saw him again, at least outside of my dreams. Almost every night, when I wasn't totally fucked up by tequila, I dreamed of him. The places we'd gone to. Cozumel, the six nights we'd spent fucking everywhere. The beach. The secluded waterfall, hidden in a deep grotto that echoed our combined howls for everyone in a four mile radius to hear.
Ireland, where he'd made me howl beside a ring of stones. Where he'd learned and sung my ancestors heart wrenching love songs. Amsterdam, where we'd enjoyed the taxi boats and coffeehouses, lazy loving in his penthouse. I ached for him.
I'd just finished a full day of interviews and had just sat down at the hotel's bar, sipping at my first margarita when I looked down the bar and met my husband's eyes. I noticed how tired he looked and how much weight he'd lost. Seeing him now made my heart ache.
He held my gaze, his expression so neutral, so distant. His handsome face a still mask. Those warm amber eyes cool and wary.
"Hello Kian."
"Dari." He breathed. "You still take my breath away."
"Bullshit. You look tired, Key."
"I am." He answered simply. He watched me for another minute before he stood and walked to sit beside me. "Dari, I don't even know where to begin..."
