25. HOLDING SPACE FOR GHOSTS
HOLDING SPACE FOR GHOSTS
I’ve finally been discharged from the hospital today, though I’ve chosen not to call my parents to let them know.
Not yet, at least. Instead, I had Emerson pick me up and take me home.
I almost want to beg him to take me to Kenneth’s apartment, our place, but I can’t bear the possibility of rejection right now.
There are no traces of us, of our love, or of my existence in his life.
How is it possible that my devotion left no imprint in this universe?
That what I thought was the biggest thing to ever happen to me was actually so insignificant that there’s no evidence at all that it didn’t happen except in my dreams? Am I actually losing my mind?
The reality of my situation is that Kenneth had first been a dream back then, too.
I had been dreaming of him for months before properly meeting him, and it never occurred to me that our entire relationship could’ve been a dream, too.
So why does it feel so real? There’s no way none of it happened, though.
I have the keychain. The key. I bet if I went there, I’d be able to get into the apartment.
That makes me feel creepy, but I have to know. I have to.
I can pretend I knocked on the wrong door and lay eyes on him, if only for a moment. And if no one answers the door, I’ll see if the key works. I’ll hope for the best—that there’s actually no one home. Yeah, that’s definitely what I’m going to do right fucking now.
“Hey, Em?” I ask softly as we get in his car, the kind nursing assistant closing my door and walking away with the wheelchair he used to help me get here. I don’t really need it, but it’s apparently protocol. “Em?” I ask again when he doesn’t answer.
“Hmm?” Emerson snaps out of a trance and looks at me apologetically. “Sorry. Yes?”
“Do you know Kenneth?” I ask him, holding my breath even though I know he doesn’t. No one does.
Emerson shakes his head, confusion clear on his features. “No. Who is that?”
“Never mind,” I mutter. “He’s no one.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, and it makes me feel guilty. He’s everything to me. “I need you to take me somewhere else first before going home.”
Em nods. “Yeah, sure. Just put the address into the GPS for me, please.”
I nod, doing as he says, then sit back and breathe through the pain of my broken ribs.
My hand clutches the keychain tightly, and I close my eyes as I recall how Kenneth’s lips felt over mine.
Soft, pliant, warm. The taste of his mouth was always sweet, which made sense because he loves candy.
I want to kiss him again so badly I feel like I’m suffocating without him.
But I manage to keep my shit together for now, only because I don’t want to break down in front of my friend and raise red flags.
He won’t leave me alone if he thinks there’s something wrong with me.
The fact that he can’t even tell that my world is falling apart tells me everything I need to know.
No one truly knows me. No one but Kenny.
“We’re here,” Emerson says softly, and my eyes spring open when he pulls up to the entrance of the high-rise. I get out of the car before he can even park, and he screeches. “Wait!”
“I’ll be back in just a second,” I tell him, then slam the passenger door shut and walk away quickly. The pain in my side is almost unbearable. Almost. The anticipation of what awaits me numbs it a little.
The lobby is the same as I remember it. Marble tiles and high ceilings, a grand piano in the corner, and sofas and armchairs positioned strategically so people can gather. I never quite understood why people would want to hang out in a place like this, but whatever.
I get in the elevator and press the number to Kenneth’s floor, surprised no one even looked at me twice.
Don’t I look suspicious? They’ve never seen me before, so why wouldn’t they question why I’m here?
Then again, I wonder how many men Kenneth brings to his apartment on a regular basis.
He was a bit of a playboy before we started dating.
That sends a pang of something straight to my heart—pain, rage, jealousy.
I shake my head and try to clear it, and the elevator door finally opens.
The hallway is exactly the same, and I know my way to his door by memory. It makes no fucking sense at all. If it wasn’t real, if none of it happened, then how can you possibly explain that? How can you explain the incomprehensible?
Taking a deep breath, I stand in front of the door and knock three times.
Not too hard, but not soft either. It’s an authoritative knock that doesn’t sound threatening.
Why the fuck am I overanalyzing the way I just knocked?
I let some time go by before doing it again, then again, and yet another time. No one answers.
I look both ways and take out the key from my pocket, fully expecting this to slap me in the face.
I’m going to try to put the key into the lock, and it’s not going to fit.
I’m going to feel so fucking stupid for coming here in the first place.
The universe is going to show me I’m mistaken by thinking my Kenneth is real, and I’m going to throw up right here in front of this fucking door.
Right on the carpet. What a fucking mess.
My hands shake as I lift the key to the keyhole.
I almost don’t do it. I’m so terrified of breaking my heart further that I almost back out and walk away.
But I don’t. Instead, I insert the key and it fucking fits.
My heart starts pounding in my chest—I’m not sure what the fuck is happening or how to feel now.
Is this hope swelling in my chest, or am I on the verge of a fucking heart attack?
Maybe this is what will actually kill me.
He’s going to come home from the studio and find a stranger dead in front of his door.
For fuck’s sake.
With shaking hands, I turn the key in the lock and hear it click.
It actually unlocks. So I remove it and open the door.
The first thing I notice is the smell—his smell.
Pineapples and tropical notes mixed together.
My nostrils flare as I take it in, eyes pricking and stinging with tears.
I thought I’d never smell him again. I walk through the door and shut it behind me softly, then make my way past the living area.
Everything looks exactly the same as it was when I first met him—before I moved in with him.
It makes my chest hurt because there are no traces of our life here.
No clues of a life well-lived. No breadcrumbs of a love that defied the odds.
It makes me feel like my heart is breaking all over again; the pain in my chest is so acute.
It feels like someone is fucking stabbing me over and over again.
Before long, I’m in his room, looking around and coming to a stop at the side of the bed.
His side of the bed. I lie down on my belly, nose buried in his pillow.
My entire body flinches in pain, but I breathe through it, which causes his scent to go deep into my lungs.
It’s the most comfortable I’ve felt since I woke up from that fucking car accident.
I never want this moment to end, but something tells me I have to go.
So I listen to my gut and get up, wiping the tears I hadn’t realized were falling in streams down my face.
Kenneth’s pillow is wet from them, and I look at the bed longingly before stepping out of the room, then out of the apartment.
I lock the door and pocket my key, then walk toward the elevator and push the button.
Then it happens.
The fucking unthinkable.
Kenneth steps out of the elevator, eyes on his phone and not paying attention to his surroundings.
My eyes widen in shock, and when his gaze lifts to mine, it feels like the knife that was lodged in my chest is yanked out, and my blood is rushing out of me in waves.
I feel lightheaded as he smiles at me softly, then walks past me.
As if we’re nothing. Like we don’t fucking belong together.
There wasn’t even a trace of recognition in his beautiful blue eyes, and that reality hurts more than the awareness that we’re nothing now.
That we never have been. Not in this timeline, anyway.
Not in this universe. Maybe not even in this fucking life.
With wide eyes and a racing heart, I get into the elevator quickly and watch as he unlocks his door.
The door closes and puts a barrier between us, and suddenly, I feel desperate to see him again.
But I don’t move to press the button to open it, not even when the need to get one more glimpse of him rises within me in a wave so strong it threatens to crush me.
Instead, I make the smart decision and go down to the lobby.
It’s pointless to be reckless for the sake of something unexplainable.
Because that’s exactly what it is. There’s no way in hell I could tell him what’s going on without sounding like I belong in a mental hospital. So I won’t do it.
I have two choices: move on or make him fall in love with me again.
From scratch. Without telling him what we’ve been to each other.
Without influencing him in the slightest. It makes my skin crawl with panic that there’s a chance he won’t even give me the time of day.
He wasn’t exactly open to the idea of a relationship the first time we met.
What if he still feels that way? The thought makes me ill.
The walk back to the car gives me time to get my shit together.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks and take a calming breath before I open the door and get back inside.
Emerson has a frown on his face as he looks at me, like I’m completely transparent and he knows something is terribly wrong.
But then I turn my body and shut the door, breaking his stare and hopefully our line of communication.
I’m not really in the mood for small talk, and there’s no way in hell I’m confiding in him either.
Somehow, he knows I must not be open to the idea of having a conversation because he stays quiet all the way to my parking garage.
I look around for my car, then remember it’s totaled, which makes my stomach sour.
Emerson parks in what’s supposed to be my parking spot, and when the silence becomes unbearable, he turns off the ignition and exits the vehicle.
I get out too, pulling out my spare key card that belongs to Em for emergencies, even though all I need to do is put my code into the elevator.
But I still wonder: what would I have done if I didn’t have a way to get inside?
It’s not like I can go to Kenneth and tell him I’m supposed to be living with him.
Imagine that. He’d have a stroke over it.
All I can think about as the elevator door opens to my penthouse is that this wasn’t just a dream.
He’s real. Something happened between us.
Whatever it was is completely unexplainable, but that doesn’t make it less true.
Somewhere, sometime, we lived a life together.
We were something to each other. Friends.
Lovers. Now all we are—all we can be—is strangers.
I shake my head as I walk quickly toward my ensuite bathroom and shut the door behind me.
My face in the mirror reflects the pain in my chest. It sucks to see that I can’t hide it no matter how hard I try.
Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?
Somehow, I don’t have to wonder for long.
I know with complete certainty that until Kenneth is back in my life—in my arms, in my bed—I’ll be a fucking mess.
So I make myself a vow: I’m going to find him again.
I’m going to get him back. He’s going to fall in love with me again.
He’s going to remember who he belongs with. And that’s me.
“I’ll find my way back to you, Kenny,” I whisper as I look down at my hands, which are shaking uncontrollably. “I swear it.”
They always tell you how love begins, but no one prepares you for how quietly it ends. If I had known how little time we had, I would’ve memorized every breath. I would’ve held on tighter. I would never have gotten in that fucking car.
That’s my biggest regret.
Leaving in the first place.