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“Why is his number disconnected?” she demands with a high and tight voice, and I gently grab her hand on her next walk by me. She stops in her tracks and looks down at me, and I give her a small smile, hoping she can’t see the worry behind my eyes.
“I don’t know,” I tell her softly, and pull her onto my lap. One more little lie won’t hurt her. “My guess is he didn’t have a choice. I bet his father did it for him. You know all of his bills are handled automatically, through his trust. I’d be willing to bet he’s still on their phone plan. Remember, we were talking about adding him to ours?”
She nods sharp and quick, my words easing some of the panic behind her face. Not all of it, mind you, but enough that her breathing evens out instead of coming in those tight little gasps that scare me so much.
“That makes sense,” she says, and I can see her following the trail of logic in her head, gathering up her own conclusions that Remi doesn’t have a choice in the matter, and if it were up to him, he’d be here with us today.
I don’t have those delusions. Remington had his number changed. Hundreds, if not thousands, of business contacts have his phone number. There’s no way he’d risk losing that form of communication unless there was no choice. Unless the sound of my voice is breaking his resolve. I hope that’s what spurred the decision. Remi never does anything halfway. It’s all or nothing. I hope I make him weak enough to come back home.
“It’s been long enough,” I tell her, slipping my hand up under the Yankees sweater she’s wearing until my fingers feel smooth skin. I run my palm up her back, offering her comfort and taking it from her flesh. “I’ll go to Lancaster United today, force him to see me.”
Her back stiffens, and I wrap my other arm around her waist and bury my face in her side.
“I promise it won’t be like last time.”
Last time was necessary, but I’ve learned my lesson. I saw Doc Miller three times last week, practicing and preparing for the next time I see Remi face-to-face. I have a game plan and a comeback for every possible situation and excuse he could throw at my feet. I’m not going to force him back into our bed. But he needs to talk to us, talk to Julia. This is killing her, and seeing her pain is killing me.
“Maybe I should go?” she suggests, but I’m shaking my head no before she’s even finished the offer. She’s too emotional. Not that I’m not. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this torn up. Never. I’ve never felt this broken inside. I feel like I’m missing my other half, and the half that remains doesn’t yet understand how to function without its mate. But I’m still better off than Julia.
“No, baby girl. Tears aren’t going to help.”
I don’t mean to be brutal, but it’s the truth, and I’m done keeping the truth from her. Maybe if I’d been honest with them from the beginning about how I felt and how I wanted this to go, things would have turned out differently.
“You don’t know for sure I’ll cry,” she says through sniffles, and I laugh for the first time in a week. I laugh so hard it almost turns into a sob when she crosses her arms across her chest and huffs in irritation, still sniffling through barely-contained tears.
“Yeah, okay,” I say playfully, as Jules sighs in a huff and links her arm around my neck, leaning into my chest. I tuck her tight against me, breathing in the clean scent of her hair and letting her body warmth soak into my skin.
“He’ll come home, won’t he?” she asks in a small voice, sounding more like a child than a woman nearing thirty.
“Yes,” I tell her, trying to infuse my voice with confidence that I certainly don’t feel. “He will,” I confirm again.
Eventually.
* * *
I takea cab with Julia to work, even though it’s on the opposite side of the city, then take the subway to Lancaster United. I’m feeling needy this morning, as unmanly as that sounds. I feel like a little kid who knows they have a checkup with shots later in the day. Necessary, and no way around it, but it makes you nervous and twitchy anyway. You crave the comfort of those that love you and that you love most.
I showered with her, then brushed her hair, and sat in the bathroom while she ran the diffuser through it, letting her curls run wild as she tamed it the only way Remi allowed, which means barely any taming at all. She looks beautiful in basic black pants and a pink silk blouse. I can even pretend I don’t see the bags under her eyes and the way her skin is pale in an almost sickly way, and not in the way that makes her glow. I’m not embarrassed to admit I put a little extra effort into my appearance this morning. My hair is slicked back, and I’m wearing Jules’s favorite cologne. I put on dress slacks and that blue shirt that they both like so much. The collar of my peacoat is up around my neck, protecting me from the chill of the wind.
I stand on the sidewalk in front of the building, gathering my courage for what is sure to be a painful confrontation. The last time I was here, I ended up puking on the sidewalk. I don’t have high hopes that today’s interaction will end very differently. I just need to keep my emotions under control and try to convince the man I love that I’m here for him, no matter what’s going on between us romantically. If he’s hurting anywhere near the level that I am, then he needs his best friend. Just like I need mine.
That’s what hurts the most. I can live without my lover, but I need my friend.
I shove my hands into my pockets before I push through the rotating glass doors, feeling a wall of warmth from the building’s heaters. I don’t even make it all the way across the lobby before a security guard stops me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I smile at the douchebag like he’s just told the funniest joke in the world while my eyes scan the faces in the lobby, looking for Remi or his father. They must be here. One of them must have seen me come in. It’s the only explanation for the unhospitable welcome.
“Excuse me?” I ask, laughing lightly as I do. “Since when? I’m here all the time. I need to see Remi.”
All the time may be a gross exaggeration, but I’ve been here often enough that they know who I am.
I attempt to step around him, but another security guard joins the first and effectively blocks my way. Adrenaline surges into my bloodstream, and I bite my inner lip to keep myself still. My breathing hitches, and I practice my panic attack techniques to keep it under control.
In and out. Just like that.
“I’m sorry,” the second guard says, and I can tell from his voice that he is. It’s dripping with regret and confusion as to why this bizarre new mandate has been put in place. He won’t make eye contact, and instead, his gaze flicks over my body and my head and shoulders. “We were given instructions last week, sir, that if you were to show up to escort you from the building. We don’t have a choice in the matter.”
