Both Sides Now (Seasoned Hearts Club)

Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

CALLISTA

“ O ne hell of a party,” the man behind the liquor store counter comments, ringing up my four bottles of alcohol.

That’s right. Count them—four bottles.

And not a party in sight.

My only plan for the evening? Drowning my sorrows until I forget that I loved either Charlie or Keegan.

Four bottles aren’t nearly enough.

I slog the bags from my car and deposit them on the kitchen counter with a flourish. I crack open the whiskey and pour myself a glass. Not a finger. Not two fingers. An entire damn glass.

I clutch the tumbler in a death grip, my body both craving and dreading the first sip of the amber liquid. I’m not a big drinker—a glass here or there to celebrate or relax—but I’ve never considered the bottle a form of therapy.

Until now.

I flip on some mournful blues music, and after half a glass and two songs, the numbness creeps in .

Damn, but it’s lovely. My entire world has crashed down around me, but with whiskey on board, I’ll just stand back and watch it fall.

A knock on the door jolts me from my stupor. Given my recent run of luck, it’s probably the last of the traveling salesmen, holding a bottle of snake oil with my name on it.

I yank open the door, as my heart drops to my stomach.

It isn’t a salesman. No such luck.

“What are you doing here, Dr. Russo?”

Keegan rests his hand on the doorframe, his gaze settling on my half-empty glass of whiskey. “I was worried about you.”

“Why? I’m not your patient anymore. You fired me today, remember? I’m not your … anything.”

“May I come in?”

“Give me one good reason.” Whiskey not only numbs my nerves. It also apparently brings out my belligerent side. Let’s hope the good doctor brought along his boxing gloves.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

I swig back another sip of liquor, feeling the burn fire up my anger. “What does it matter? I am alone. Why delay the inevitable?”

“May I please come in?” Keegan repeats, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against the doorframe.

I step aside and point in the direction of the living room. “Have a seat. Do you want a drink? Oh wait, you’re likely too busy starting your new life to wallow with me in mine. Never mind.”

Keegan snatches the glass from my hand and downs the contents. Then he sets it on the table and walks the length of the room. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right answer to this situation. To any situation. I’m trying and failing at every turn. ”

I’m not sure if it’s the sadness in his eyes, tucked away beneath his cool facade, but the shield of anger slides from my body, and I collapse into a chair. “Join the club.”

He kneels in front of me, grasping my hands. “What do you need, Callista? Forget what you think you need or should need. Forget what your family and friends want, what I wanted. What do you need? When was the last time you actually considered that question?”

I release a slow breath and marinate on his words. “It’s been years. Decades, maybe. I didn’t want to come to America, but I wanted to be with Charlie, and I’ve grown to love many aspects of this country. But now that he’s gone, I’m adrift, with no anchor. The last two years I spent mourning him, and the two years prior to that, I dedicated every moment to saving him. I’m really angry with God for taking him so young. I’m also really angry with myself that I never took full advantage of my chances.”

“How do you mean?” Keegan asks, an encouraging expression on his face.

I’ve never been this vulnerable with him before, and part of me wonders why I bother now. Perhaps because he deserves this side of me, even if it’s only for me to let him go. His version of closure.

“Most of all, I’m angry I failed to seize the chance I had with you.” I squeeze his hands, as the sadness creeps back in. “I’m glad you’re taking advantage of your chances. We never know how many we’ll be given. We assume opportunities will always present themselves, knocking at our door. But we never stop to consider that after being ignored, that opportunity might seek out a new dwelling.”

Just like that, I realize Keegan and I are over. Our brief, but spectacular love affair, is now relegated to the history books. That thought cuts me like a knife—a jagged, rusty-edged knife—tearing through the most sensitive parts of my soul .

I need to mourn.

In private.

While I appreciate Keegan’s concern, I can’t have this man whom I love and want a future with— a man who doesn’t want those things—sitting in my living room, pitying me.

If nothing else, I still have my pride.

I stand and refill my glass. I need more liquor to face this night. “I’ll be fine. I need to host a personal pity party for a while, but I’ve been knocked down before. I’ll get back up again.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

I nod toward the door. “Go on. I know you have a ton of things to do. Thank you for stopping by to check on me. I’m sorry I worried you by racing out of your office.”

But Keegan doesn’t move, his gaze intent on me. “I don’t need to hurry home.”

I shrug and walk toward the foyer. “There’s no point in you hanging around. I know that sounds horrible, but you’re leaving. I’ll never see you again. You know what’s sad? I’m more upset that I wasn’t pregnant with your baby than I am to discover that I’ll never have Charlie’s. What does that say about me?”

Again, thoughts that should have stayed in my head, but whiskey has loosened the grip on my feelings, and I’m letting them all flow tonight.

Keegan shifts his weight, and I realize my statement has made him uncomfortable. After all, this is the man who has made it abundantly clear that a wife and children are not on his to-do list.

No matter how much I wish it wasn’t the case.

Perhaps if I hadn’t messed it up and run away from him, he would have considered the idea.

But time can’t be undone and there is no rolling back the clock .

I shake my head, offering a sad chuckle. “Ignore me, it’s the whiskey talking. I’ll bet your Mom is so excited to have you home. She really misses you.”

He stands, but his gaze remains locked on the floor, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

I pull open the front door in an unquestionable signal that our meeting is adjourned. “Don’t forget to look me up if you’re ever in town. Not that you will be, I’m sure. Not that you would, regardless. Goodbye, Keegan.”

He crosses the threshold before turning back, his beautiful blue gaze meeting mine. “This is not how I planned any of this. I didn’t want it to turn out this way, either. I hoped …” He shakes his head, letting the sentence fade into the air. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to my cheek. “I will miss you.”

I manage a slight nod and wave, standing at the door as his Jeep drives out of sight.

Out of my life.

For good.

Then I lock my front door, grab the bottle of whiskey and head for my bedroom.

Hibernation, part three, commences now.

But this time, my anger outweighs the grief. I’m furious at how my life has turned out. I’m thirty-seven years old, alone and childless, with no options in sight.

After only a day and a half in bed, the fury boiling inside me bubbles to the surface. That, and I have a raging headache.

So, I emerge from my cocoon and swallow a few aspirins. No, not with whiskey. I’ve had quite enough of that crap. I’m actually tempted to call Shawn and ask him to give me some IV fluids to speed up the re-humanizing process.

Then my gaze settles on the door at the end of the hall .

Charlie’s office.

I can’t breathe as I stare at the woodgrain door. The brass knob and kick plate. It’s been almost two years since I’ve set foot inside that room—his private abode.

That ends today.

With a strangled cry halfway between a war whoop and a hiccup, I snatch the key off the hook and march toward the room with far more bravado than I feel. My hand trembles as I slide the key into the lock.

Do I really want to do this?

Callista, do you really have a choice?

I swing open the door. The room is dusty, with a musty smell hanging in the air, but other than that, it’s just an office.

What the hell did I expect? A killer clown popping out from the corner?

Wouldn’t that be good for a laugh?

My gaze settles on a photograph of me prominently displayed on Charlie’s desk. I’m wearing a skimpy dress, striking a femme fatale pose. But it’s the smile on my lips and the light in my eyes that catch my attention.

I scramble to grab my phone, ignoring the litany of messages as I scroll through my photos, stopping at one Keegan took of me before my meltdown in Mystic.

He took it the night we proclaimed our love. The night we spent with nothing but our love between us.

I’m wearing the same smile. The same light shines in my eyes.

The glow of love that I wore so well with Charlie reignited with Keegan.

Keegan, the man who’s now gone from my life.

Just like Charlie.

With a scream, I pitch the framed photo across the room, taking great satisfaction in the shattering glass .

I shove the contents of Charlie’s desk onto the floor, as my poor dog skitters for cover from the cacophony of noise.

“Why?” I wail again and again as I dump out the contents of each desk drawer. When it’s over, I sink to the ground in a heap, sobbing against the wood hutch, my breath arriving in gulps.

“Why did you leave me, Charlie? Why doesn’t Keegan want me? Why don’t I deserve love, too?”

The silence is deafening, ringing through my ears with answers I’ll never receive. I wipe my eyes, hiccuping now through my tears, as my gaze catches on a small box.

What in the world? I’ve memorized everything that belonged to Charlie but I’ve never seen this box before.

I crawl over to it, turning it upright. Inside is a collection of photos—of Charlie, of me, of us. My fingers trace the edges of the paper, wishing I could have him back for one more day. He’d know what to say to break me from this funk.

He always did.

An envelope sticks out from the side of the box, and I open it, expecting to see more photographs inside. Instead, I pull out a sheet of paper, my breath catching in my throat when I see the familiar handwriting.

Turn on the computer and open the file named Darling Girl.

xx

Charlie

I press the power button on his computer with trembling fingers, and wait for what seems an eternity as the machine awakens from an almost two-year slumber.

I spy the file, and the tears start anew. It’s a movie file. For the first time in years, I’ll see my dear husband again .

And then, through the magic of technology, Charlie is there in the room with me, complete with his crooked and endearing smile. I know from the pallor of his skin and his gaunt frame that this clip was recorded not long before the end.

But still, he smiled. Right until those last days when he drifted out of consciousness and away from me.

Charlie fit a lifetime into every day after he received his diagnosis, determined to take an arsenal of memories on the next leg of his journey.

“My darling girl, how long have I been gone? I’m guessing at least a year, maybe more. One thing is for certain: if you’re watching this, I’m dead. I know, what an awful way to put it, right?” He pauses, chuckling at his morbid sense of humor.

“But that’s life—one big circle. I’m just glad I got to take this crazy ride with you by my side. I know my death will be hard on you. But don’t worry, my girl, we share a bond that can never be broken. I will always be with you.”

“But you’re not,” I argue with the screen, my eyes blurring from the tears.

“I’ll show you I’m right by your side still, in so many little ways. Although”—he motions to the ceiling and sends me a wink—“I have to check with the man upstairs. There might be a cap on how many signs I can send in a day, but I’ll argue my case, so don’t you stop looking.”

The humor slides from his face as he inches closer to the camera, his hand touching the lens. “Most importantly, don’t you stop living. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean your life ends. Callista, you are too wonderful a soul to spend your days alone.”

From left to right, I jostle my head to negate his statement, but his next line makes me laugh out loud.

“I know you’re shaking your head right now, thinking how you can’t fathom moving on. Falling in love. Letting love in.”

How right you are, Charlie .

“Well, here’s what I see, and trust me, I’ve got a good view from up here. I see you meeting an amazing chap who is probably nothing like me. That’s okay. Give him a chance. He’ll surprise you—again and again. Be patient with him. He likely doesn’t know the right things to say, but his heart is in the right place. You’ll know him when you meet him. You’ll glow again. You wear the glow of love so well, my darling girl. Don’t let that light flicker out simply because I’m no longer in this form.”

Charlie shifts in the chair, a flash of pain cutting across his features. He was exhausted and no doubt slept the rest of the day away in a futile attempt to reclaim his stolen energy.

But my Charlie isn’t done speaking his piece.

“Back to the man who will take my place. Make room in your heart for him. He deserves a spot. I know you’ll fight him—and your feelings—but don’t fight too hard. He’s human, too.”

My thoughts drift to Keegan, and once again I wonder if I hadn’t thrown away our relationship with such callous disregard, would he have been my future?

“I want you to love him with every fiber of your being,” Charlie continues. “I want you to have a houseful of kids, driving you crazy and ensuring you never get a full night’s rest again. I want to look down and see you visit my resting place with your new family, and I want to see you smile. Smile because I lived and because I was lucky enough to love you.”

“I miss you so much, baby.” The movie ends as the sobs overtake me. I shake as my heart liquefies and pours from my body.

But despite the anguish, a feeling of peace pervades my being. As always, my Charlie knew just what I needed to hear.

I awaken with a start as my eyes adjust to the late afternoon sun. I must have passed out from crying. Again. Definitely a habit I need to break.

I’m still leaning against the wood hutch, Charlie’s photos clutched in my hand. From the corner of my eye, I spy Domino as she lifts one paw and then the other in a nervous prance.

Poor pup. She’s borne witness to far too many meltdowns.

“Sorry, Domino. Your bladder must be ready to burst.” I pull myself to my feet and notice the dried blood on my knee.

Note to self: Don’t crawl over broken glass. Very bad idea, indeed.

After letting Domino run free in the backyard, I return to his office.

What a mess. Charlie would be mortified. Not surprised, but mortified. He was a stickler for organization, and I just upended his entire life onto the floor. Talk about a new type of tribute.

“Sorry, love,” I speak aloud to the air. “Grief got the best of me. But, I’m better now.”

For the first time since his death, I actually mean those words.

His room is back to rights within an hour, save for a few shattered frames and one terribly sad-looking snow globe, now cracked and leaking its glitter-infused juice all over the floor. I toss it into the garbage with a chuckle.

Charlie hated the damn thing, but it was a gift from Shawn. A gag gift, but one my husband swore he would display proudly—likely as a reminder to never buy my best friend a nice gift again.

But something far more important came from this latest breakdown: a breakthrough.

Charlie’s words resonate in my head as I finally accept the truth. He’s gone, but I’m still here. I’m still alive, and although I’ll miss my husband until the day I die, I’m ready to face the world again.

I may be alone, but with his memory by my side, I’ll never be lonely.

A smile cuts across my face as a plan begins to take shape. It’s risky, but isn’t everything?