I made a conscious choice staring at Lil’s coffin, one I’d either celebrate a million times over or regret until my dying day, but it was one I had to make.
Stanley met us at the door with a single bark, the somber mood weighing on him as well. He seemed to grieve more than Lil’s own son. He wouldn’t even eat - a day I thought would never come for the fat bastard.
He marched back to the dog bed the guards brought early that morning, a white cloud cushion with bright red tassels, ones we knew Lil would love. He sank into it with a grumble and closed his eyes, his painted little toes sticking straight out.
“He’s lonely,” I noted as I pulled off my tie, throwing the scrap of silk on the console table. “We should get him a friend for when we’re out.”
Kee slid off a heel, the first wild tendrils of hair escaping the clip she’d secured them in. “A friend?”
“Another cranky little shit. They’re better in pairs. He could use some company. Misery loves it, remember?”
“It’ll have to wait until I find an apartment,” she said flatly, kicking off the other heel. “I still have to figure out everything with work and school.”
“Not necessary.” I shrugged out of my suit jacket, tossing it atop my tie. “The sooner he has a buddy, the better. It’ll help him.”
“Moving is going to be traumatic enough for him. Who knows where I’ll even find a place that accepts a dog with his bite history.”
“Right here.” I removed the cufflinks one by one, the golden orbs joining the rest of my clothing in a heap.
“I can’t afford this building,” she scoffed, striding over to scratch Stanley behind the ear. He growled and lifted his lip in warning but allowed the affection. “I can’t even afford this neighborhood. I might need to head out of the city entirely. But it’s okay. Maybe the suburbs will be better for him.”
“I meant this unit.”
A sharp inhale of breath was the only answer she gave, staring at me with her jaw dropped.
“Stanley likes the water views. Plus, I need an attack dog.” The goddamn buttons of the dress shirt were tiny, making undoing each a bitch. In the end, I popped off the last two rather than fumbling with them.
She looked between Stanley and me, the grouch still grumbling on his marshmallow mountain. “You want to keep him?”
I shrugged. “More so you, but yes.”
A tiny smirk touched her lips, one she abruptly flattened. “No one is my keeper.”
I chucked the dress shirt away, chest bared. “Good thing I have no intention of playing zookeeper.”
She didn’t share my playful spirit, her arms wrapping around herself for comfort. “What are your intentions? Leaving me behind again like a human breadcrumb?”
“Maybe I needed to in order to find my way back home.” I stepped toward her, but she inched away, walking barefoot into the living room.
“I don’t even know who you are.” She threw the words over her shoulder, laced with venom.
“I’m Ethan Barrett,” I introduced with a dramatic bow, the movement coaxing a snarl out of Stanley. “I’m the youngest of three boys. I hail from Briar, Maine. I have a knack for art, and I’m wild about a curly-haired woman with a big heart and an even bigger mouth.”
“Lucky her,” she spat, turning her back to me to look out at the water. It was a windy day, whitecaps dotting the blue as far as the eye could see.
“No, lucky me.”
I checked my watch.
Three hours.
I hadn’t meant for it to kick off on such an awful day, but with the train already barreling down the tracks, there was no stopping it.
“You’re still a stranger.”
“Am I?” I asked, walking behind her to study the sea over her shoulder, my face inches from hers.
She nodded, curls brushing my cheek. Her sweet scent danced around, a taste of home on my lips. Her hazel eyes didn’t budge, the windows to her soul closed to me as she stared straight ahead.
“I think you know more than you let on,” I accused in a whisper, brushing my lips on her exposed shoulder. “I have a gift for you.”
She turned away from the window, eyes searching mine. “I don’t want a gift.”
“You’ll want this one,” I insisted, lacing the fingers of my left hand in hers, the right one still trapped in a cast. “But you’ll have to wait a few more hours.”
Keely
The laughing call of seagulls woke me from a sound sleep, a marked difference from the silence I’d grown used to in the penthouse. I tried to ignore them, to flee back into the relative comfort of my dreams, before the wrongness of the sound chased me awake.
My eyes popped open before being blinded by piercing light, sun pouring through the behemoths that were more like walls than windows, two of which were pulled to the side, revealed as doors leading to a patio.
I was in the middle of Ethan’s bed, still wearing the black shift dress I’d worn to Lil’s funeral. Lil’s funeral? The thought was so wrong, so final.
I’d never get the chance to tell her about Ethan and I. To have her squeal and whack my arm with an I told you so for the record books. To share more laughs over wine. To feel the love from that heart of gold one last time.
I was disappointed not to see Jorge at the service, even after he tearfully said he couldn’t make it, a mandatory training session holding him in San Francisco. I selfishly wanted him there to lean on, needing his support. Instead, I said goodbye to our fine-wine on a Thursday, our special day no more.
I stretched my hands above, body stiff from sleep. I must have nodded off after leaving Ethan in the living room, wanting -no needing- time to myself. Time to reflect. Time to think.
He couldn’t reappear and expect everything to be okay,
