Page 99 of Demo
“Yes,” I said, cautiously. “But I can’t guarantee you’ll like my response.”
She squinted up to the sun, then back at me. “You seem OK, since your mom died. I know you’re sad. I’m not saying you’re not. It’s just, you seem oddly at peace. Your dad, on the other hand. I mean, obviously it’s a different kind of loss for him. And Bram is just … well, you know. But you seem OK. Is it just a front? Are you just being the strong one?”
I drew in a breath, then crossed my arms over my sweat-soaked gray T-shirt as I leaned back and perched my ass on the seat of the lawn mower, so I was half-sitting, half-leaning on it. I looked at my feet, then back at the woman I loved.
“The truth is a little complicated, and it might take a little rambling for me to get it right. That OK?”
She nodded, hands still in her back pockets, chest rising and falling.
“It’s the finality of it all, if I had to guess. I think that’s the hardest for my dad and Bram. What was the last thing they said to my mom? What was she wearing the last time they saw her? They didn’t have any warning so they couldn’t memorize her smell or the way her hair fell around her shoulders. They want to tell her again how much they loved her, how much they appreciated her, how brightly she shined, you know?”
Lizzie nodded. “I do. When my dad died, I remember feeling guilty, selfish even, because I was glad we had some notice. It was awful for him, that he had to suffer for months being so incredibly ill. But my sister, my mom and I all got the chance to do just that—all the things you said.”
“Exactly,” I said, unfolding my arms to stroke the scruff on my face with one hand. “But, you see, this wasn’t my first rodeo.” I peeked up at her and saw her draw her brows together, a slight tilt to her head. Swallowing, I laid it out for her.
“I mourned you after you ended things. I was wholly unprepared for it, and I swear to God, Lizzie, it was like mourning a death. You wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me see you, wouldn’t return a text. It was like you died. And I had no idea that last day we spent together—that last awful day—would be it.”
I saw Lizzie’s lower lip tremble, and I wanted to reach for her, to soothe her, but I also needed her to hear this. “So, as hard as this past year has been, it also taught me you never know if it’s your last moment with someone. And this part is hard for me to explain,” I scratched my face with one hand and then cupped it behind my neck, my other hand resting on the seat my ass was perched on. “It’s like it’s easier that she’s dead. I will never run into her at the store. I will never feel my phone buzz and look down to see her name on the screen. I can shut that right down in my mind because it’s not an option.”
This time when I looked up, I saw Lizzie’s eyes cast downward, wet streaks on her face. I didn’t have to spell it out completely for her, because she understood what I was saying. What she did to me.
“Knox …” she breathed.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, ba—” I cut myself off from using a term of endearment. “I get your head was in a bad place. We went through something terrible. And everything you said to me was right. We were like a tsunami. We crashed into each other, and one thing led to another, quickly. But you need to know,” I pushed off the seat, took two slow steps toward Lyzbeth and gently grasped her chin in my hand, tipping her face up to mine. “You need to know that you were never some sort of situational girlfriend for me. Hell, we just blew past the whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing anyway.”
We both chuckled, and teardrops stuck to her eyelashes while others rolled down and pooled in the curve of her upper lip.
“You were it for me then, and you’re it for me now,” I said.
With our eyes locked on each other, Lizzie mumbled something inaudible.
“Hmm?” I responded.
“Ask me again,” she said, more confidently.
It was my turn to bunch my brows and tilt my head in question.
Lizzie’s eyes went to the bathroom window, then back to me. “Almost a year ago you asked me a question. We were scared and overwhelmed, and young and in love, and I messed it all up.”
My chest burned. It was a combination of grief over the relationship I had mourned for the past year and hope it was coming back to me, and love for the woman before me who was opening herself back up to me, as well as fear of letting myself think we could have another chance and all the “what ifs” that came with it.
“I’m still three out of four of those things,” Lizzie continued, wrapping her fingers around my wrists as my hands cupped her face.
Swallowing a dry gulp, words tumbled out of my mouth. “A lot of things were just said, and I’m a little bit in shambles right now, so I’m going to need you to recap,” I said.
Lizzie smiled. “I’m not scared anymore,” she said, her tears now dry, as resolve flashed across her face. “Please, Knox. Ask me again.”
I pulled her forehead against mine as I gasped a breath, then quickly regained my senses. To her shock, I pushed her away, and her eyes widened.
“Right here,” I said, as I pulled away and pointed a finger to the ground, indicating for her to stay put. I headed toward my truck in the driveway. “Stay right here. Don’t fucking move,” I ordered, a Cheshire cat smile on my face. “Just, just stay right there,” I nearly barked as I tripped over my feet and pivoted and ran up to my truck.
I yanked open the passenger side door and then the glove compartment and dug through some condoms to pull out the small box that had been tucked in there since the trip I took with the company, the one I was on when I got the call from Lizzie about the miscarriage. I never had the strength to return it.
I galloped back over to Lizzie, who looked like she had no idea what the hell was going on. I was fucking giddy. No drug I had ever taken had given me a high like this.
“OK,” I said as I grabbed her hands, then quickly dropped one to whip my hat off my head and toss it aside. Then I turned us this way and that until we were both in a direction that the sun wasn’t blinding us. “Lizzie, I didn’t have this for you last time because, well, because apparently we aren’t the planning type of people, but I’ve had it with me for almost a year now.”
As I let go of her hands to pull the box out of my pocket and open it, Lizzie’s hands went to her mouth and a sob broke free.
