Chapter 10 #2
Scrubbing a hand down my five o'clock shadow, I leaned back in my luxurious office chair. I tapped my phone’s screen. 4:40 PM. Too close to the end of day to start a new task, but too early to leave.
Great. Just great.
I drummed my fingers atop the desk, willing time to go faster while vaguely recalling a time where I had wished for the opposite. For days to feel like months. For months to stretch into years.
Anxiety began to claw its way into my stomach.
Like a steam engine I couldn’t stop, my thoughts picked up speed until they felt dangerously close to careening off the tracks.
Flashes of Amantha’s laugh and Rick’s wink raced through my mind.
“I haven’t seen anyone snap at you like that since…”
Stella.
Helpless to do anything but cling to my desk, my train of thoughts sucked me into the past.
“For the love, Val!”
Stella’s naturally curly hair had been thick with humidity, the blazing Caribbean sun glinting off the bright blonde strands. She had swept her sunglasses over the unruly mess, her sunburn-tinted nose wrinkling up at me.
“Seriously? Right now? Like, right now?” Her five-foot-two bikini-clad body stretched atop the burning sands, using only her beach towel as a barrier. I stepped in front of the sun, shading my new bride’s adorable scowl.
“C’mon Stel. It’s only a run.” I shrugged. “I’ll be back in thirty, max.”
“Another run? You already ran this morning! We just got here.” Stella used one hand to thrust her sandy beach bag up at me while gesturing to the lapping waves. “This is a beach! This is our honeymoon! I know you hate relaxing, but we are going to do exactly that. Now. Together.”
The beach bag flopped over with a thud as she tried to yank me down to the vacant towel beside her with both hands.
“I am now your wife.” She strained to pull me. “Do you know what that means?” Her blue eyes looked so fierce, I decided to play along.
Gritty sand pressed into my knees and palms as I locked her body in place on the towel beneath me. A devilish smile tugged my lips at the look of flushed distraction on her pink cheeks.
“And what does that mean, my wife?” The new title from my lips brushed the shell of Stella’s ear, and I was momentarily lost in a cloud of scented sunscreen and desire. The sensation of her small fingertips against my bare back tempted me to abandon the run altogether.
Her response came in shallow pants. “It means you have to do...what I say.”
“Is that right?” I nuzzled the soft skin on her neck.
“I-I think so. Love, honor, and obey, right?”
“Fine. I’ll try this whole relaxing thing…” I vanished from her then, sprinting down the sandy beach. “When I get back.” I laughed over my shoulder.
I watched Stella prop up on her elbows, glaring after me though she couldn’t keep from laughing.
“Val Russo! You are so dead. Once you get back, I’m slipping a sedative into your drink. I’ll make you relax one way or another.”
Turning and jogging a few steps backward, I shot her my most charming smile with a shrug. “You knew this when you married me,” I called, “in sickness and in health! Forever!”
Stella’s bright laughter faded into my quiet office.
But forever had been a little too far away for us.
I pried my white knuckles from the desk and stood, massaging them before tracing the tattoo snaking up my arm. My fingers knew the familiar, stinging pattern by heart.
A gilded picture frame found its way into my hands. Stella’s stunning blue eyes grinned atop her ever-cheeky smile. Ocean waves of pain lapped over my heart, salting the open wounds that never seemed to heal.
An unwelcome image of her final moments lying in that hospital bed made me squeeze my eyes shut. Made me plead with my brain to think of anything else. She had been so pale. So small. So tired of fighting to stay in this world, even as I wasn’t ready to let her go.
My lungs started to do that annoying thing again, where they decided to submerge themselves in water. Professionals called them panic attacks. I called them pathetic.
Unable to breathe, I stumbled toward the windows, cracking one open. The meager air flow I gulped smelled of traffic exhaust and early summer. Windows across the street gave me a glimpse of other employed adults, each unaware of how my heart was breaking.
How I was breaking.
A tentative knock and click of the door alerted me to someone’s presence, though I didn’t bother turning around.
“Mr. Russo?”
I recognized one of the newer intern’s voices. On a scale from puberty to renting a car, the poor guy seemed closer to the former.
“S-sorry to interrupt, but marketing is having a hard time locating the file you sent for the Felix Andreas exhibit—”
“It’s in the email attachment,” I said through clenched teeth, still trying to regulate my breathing.
“Uh, they can’t find it, sir. I know—”
“No, you don’t know.” I cut him off.
Swallowing my pain, I turned and strode past the blubbering intern toward the marketing department.
No one knew.
A wave threatened to drag me under again.
No one knew.
And I intended to keep it that way.