Chapter 33 #2
“Oh Jesus,” I murmur. But it’s not the rose that grabs me by the throat.
“Yeah,” she breaths, barely audible. “But it’s where he kissed her that had Alex puking. Right there on the spot. All over the roses. Looked like he threw up a fucking rainbow.”
My stomach drops.
I can’t help flashing back to the rainbow-colored roses Alex had bought for me just days ago.
Fucking hell.
I scratch my chin, grimacing as my stomach churns. Maybe mixing coffee and wine wasn’t such a great idea after all. Bourbon would have been smarter.
I glance at Teya, a sick twist coiling through my gut.
“You said… where he kissed her. What did you mean by that? Where exactly did he kiss her?”
She lifts her glass, eyes glassy, voice trembling.
“Her stomach, Elijah.”
A pause.
“He kissed her on her stomach—after dropping to his knees.”
Motherfucker.
It’s all I can do to keep the hate out of my voice. “So, you think she was pregnant?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she sneers. “Alex and I just stood there, shellshocked, watching her slide into the car next to her knight in shining armor.” Her voice cracks. “That was the first time she disappeared from my brother’s life.”
“Mmm,” I snicker, though there’s nothing funny about it. Not one fucking bit.
Alex once told me she came back a year later—completely glossed over the whole graduation-night disaster—and they picked up where they’d left off.
He even said they were happy. Got pregnant.
Had Emilee. He was modeling then. She was still drawing.
Hell, she was the one who designed the puzzle pieces—convinced him to get her artwork tattooed across his back.
And then she vanished again—this time leaving behind a five-year-old daughter.
Christ.
“Here,” Teya says, sliding the envelope toward me. I’d nearly forgotten about the damn thing. “This came in the mail eight years ago. Not long after Meera walked out on Alex and Emilee. It was addressed to him.”
Guilt clouds her face as she pulls on her lower lip. “But I opened it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I take it he doesn’t know?”
She shakes her head. “No. But it pretty much confirmed what I already expected—what we both saw the night she left with that man.”
She brushes a tear from her cheek and pushes her bangs aside.
“Alex was already hurting so much, Elijah. She’d left him twice. Twice. How much can someone take? There was no way in hell I was going to add to his humiliation.”
With a heavy heart, I reach into the envelope and pull out its contents: a single sheet of paper… and an orange plastic puzzle piece.
I twirl it between my fingers, trying to place where I’ve seen this before.
Could this be the missing link?
Teya nods toward the letter. “Read the note, Elijah.”
Nodding, I pick up the paper and read:
My dearest Alex,
There’s so much you don’t know about me—so many things I’ve kept hidden. But for good reason. I don’t expect you to understand… not now… maybe not ever.
The truth is, I’m still trying to understand myself.
I’m a complicated person. I’ve always been a closed book. You know that. And trust me, it’s better that way. Too many webs to untangle—and even if you did, you’d still be lost.
So please don’t look for me.
Because I don’t exist.
Instead, look for what does.
I pause, blinking at the words. My mind scrambles to make sense of them, but they’re like smoke… just evaporating before my eyes. Instead, I press on.
The tattoo, Alex.
There’s a reason I had it put there. It’s forever.
Something I can’t be.
But it’s the only real part of me you’ll ever truly know—
At least I hope you will.
I was too ashamed to tell you in words, so I tried to show you through art.
Alex, my love…
Someone out there holds the missing link to completing the puzzle.
When you find them, you’ll have found the only part of me that truly exists.
I hope you will forgive me.
—Meera
“Fuuuck.” I exhale because there’s really nothing else to say. How the hell does she expect Alex to find the missing piece when he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for… or who?
I lean back in my chair, eyes dropping once more to the orange piece of plastic in my hand.
Damn. Where have I seen this before?
Teya steps beside me and gently slips the letter and puzzle piece back into the envelope.
“So… you agree, right?” she says quietly. “That there’s another child? Somewhere? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
I hesitate, but the knot in my stomach tightens in agreement.
“I hate to say it,” I admit, dragging both hands through my hair, “but, yeah… it sure feels that way.” I exhale hard. “Maybe it’s time you told Alex?”
“Told me what?”
Our heads whip around at the exact same time.
Alex is standing in the doorway.
ALEX
Guilt.
It’s spread across their faces like wet paint. Well—on my sister’s, at least. Elijah, on the other hand? Cool as a fucking cucumber. His poker face is flawless, giving nothing away as he glances over at me with unsettling ease.
“Good morning, mi amor,” he says.
I ignore him. My eyes go straight to Teya.
“Why is he here?”
Let me get you some water. You need water.
That voice. Sweet. Gentle. Noah.
I shake my head, trying to scrub Noah’s words from my mind like a bad dream. But it lingers.
You’re drunk.
Oh god.
I shuffle over to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of cold water. Holding it to my forehead, I hope it will freeze the memory.
“He’s here because I asked him for his help,” Teya says, her voice guilt soaked and trembling. “And because he loves you.”
So does this mean you’ve figured it out?
Mmmfuuck! God fucking damn it! Figured out what?
“Alex?” she says, breaking me from my memory. I lean a sore hip against the counter.
I feel like shit.
Everything hurts.
Eyes ache, head pounds, mouth as dry as the desert, the side of my fucking face is stinging.
And now, of course, I hear voices.
Noah’s voice.
Alex, please stop.
Oh, I’m not stopping… my pretty dancer. I’m paying for my swimming lessons.
No. No, no, no.
My hand tightens, too hard, too fast—pop—the cap flies off and water splashes straight into my eye. It makes me stagger back a step, blinking.
What the hell did I do?
I tip the bottle and chug it down, trying to recall anything from last night.
ANY FUCKING THING!
I’d been ripping pissed at Elijah, that I remember. And I fucked him. Jesus Christ, I remember that too.
I glance up and find him staring at me while water trickles down my chin. I wipe my lips with the back of my wrist.
Um, Alex? This is Gabriel.
For fuck’s sake! Gabriel answered Elijah’s phone when I called to—
The whole scene slams back into me. Gabriel stepping out of Elijah’s apartment. His hand on Elijah’s face. Thumb tracing those thick, beautiful lips. Wind tousling his hair.
And then—
The kiss.
Goddamn it! They fucking kissed!
My eyes squeeze shut against the memory, but it comes anyway, too loud, too bright. The bottle slips from my hand and hits the floor.
Gravity.
I glance up, stomach churning. Elijah’s watching me—his eyes soft, dark, unreadable. And beautiful. Just as beautiful as—
Oh god. Nooooo…
I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, smearing the sickly-sweet taste of strawberry balm across my cheek.
Stop thinking. Stop remembering.
“Your sister called me… from your cell,” Elijah tries to explain amid the rodeo I’m riding in my head.
“Seems you decided to hijack her car and throw yourself a party at Gravity,” he says, practically spitting out the word like it tastes foul.
Can’t say I blame him.
But I do blame him—for that kiss he shared with Gabriel.
He takes a sip from his glass—is that wine?
I glance at the clock.
A pot of coffee steams quietly on the counter beside me. The aroma curls around the kitchen, warm and familiar. Not quite Café Bonito with its smooth chocolate undertones but still comforting in its own way.
I’ll have to bring some for Teya next time.
Assuming there ever is a next time.
I swallow thickly and look back at Elijah.
“You were passed out in the back alleyway,” he says—like I need a fucking reminder.
I smack my lips together, praying to God they’re not glittery like Noah’s.
Oh god.
I’m gonna puke.
Elijah’s already moving, springing to his feet just as my knees buckle.
I hit the floor hard, landing in a puddle of water. My stomach convulses. Dry heaves tear through me. My chest tightens. My throat burns.
“Damn it!” I rasp, gasping, drooling, humiliated.
He doesn’t flinch, just wraps his arms around me and rubs circles on my back. Over and over. Two full minutes pass by, maybe more, until the spasms finally let go, and I can breathe again.
With trembling legs, I let him help me up. Using my wrist, I wipe my mouth again and spit on the floor.
“He kissed you. He was supposed to be in Spain, Elijah! Spain! You lied to me!”
Elijah grips my shoulders firmly. “It wasn’t like that, Alex.” His voice is calm, but insistent. “You’ve got it all wrong. Okay. Yes, he was at my apartment. And yeah, I didn’t tell you. But only because”—he hesitates—“I wanted to surprise you.”
I snort, too pissed to form words.
Then Elijah reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. I catch a glimpse of an official seal stamped in the top corner.
I snatch it from his hand.
“My divorce papers, baby,” he says quickly, cupping my bruised face in his palms. His voice shakes just enough to crack my anger.
“It’s why Gabriel was here. He flew back to finalize our divorce.”
He searches my eyes, pleading.
“What you saw… that kiss… it was him saying goodbye, Alex. I swear.”
His gaze doesn’t waver, like he needs me to believe him.
“I’m all yours now, my love.”
I clutch his arms, dizzy with the weight of his words. All the pain I put myself through. The ache. The rage. The reckless mistake I made with Noah—just to get that image of them out of my head. And here he is. Holding me. Telling me I was wrong. Telling me he’s mine.
For fuck’s sake.
I hate myself.
Disgusted doesn’t even scratch the surface. This obsession with Noah… it’s poison. The alcohol, the club, those gorgeous blue eyes and glitter-slick lips…
It has to stop.
Now.
I can’t even look at Elijah. Can’t face him after what I did. The weight of it settles on my shoulders like wet cement. Heavy. Cold. Impossible to shake off.
“I love you,” I mumble, shame thick in my throat.
There’s a beat of silence. A breath I can’t take.
“Te quiero mas,” Elijah whispers, brushing a kiss just below my earlobe. His lips are warm. Forgiving. It only makes the guilt burn hotter.
“I love you more.”