8. Alana
Alana
My legs are still wobbly as I shut the door behind me.
Fifteen feet away, the only man I’ve ever loved sets up camp on the couch.
I rest my head against the back of the door.
What am I doing? Okay, take care of your basic needs, get into bed, and don’t overthink this.
Well, two out of three ain’t bad. That was my mom’s favorite Meat Loaf song.
I toss my purse onto the bed and walk into the bathroom. His shirt hugs my body, and there’s an ache deep inside my soul. Why does he have to be so damn good?
Once nestled under the covers, exhaustion takes over.
Only the emotions of the last forty-eight hours cycle through my mind, not the events themselves.
And there’s one emotion that peaks more than the joy of seeing my friends happy, the pride in a well-executed plan, or even the confusion of seeing Grae in a situation I did not expect.
Loneliness.
I scroll through my phone, checking for updates. My email is flooded with pictures from Andrey at the parks, but it’s the one Lance sends that I focus on. It’s a group shot in front of the castle at night, and it’s nearly everyone I care about.
Izzy and Lance stand in the center with their son, Drew.
Waverly and Lucas are next to them, her skin already turning pink, with the rest of her family surrounding them.
Dimitri and Katya squeeze Ian’s shoulder.
The kid is in heaven. He hasn’t been this happy since I delivered the childhood belongings he left behind in Russia.
There’s that pull at my heart.
Thiago and Monica hug Maria as she glues herself to Olivia.
Hadeon and Penny made it down there in time.
Good. The kids must be thrilled. Joey and Jenny have matching ears, and I don’t think either of them has taken them off all day.
Even my two works in progress, Uri and Donny, seem like they’re having a good time.
I should feel proud. Look at what I created—love, unions, friendships, and a future.
But I’m not there.
I lift my gaze from the phone and stare at the door. What am I doing? This isn’t my plan. It’s too early. Too many loose ends. I made these choices for very good, logical, intelligent reasons, with contingency plans in place.
I shift in bed, and the pain in my stomach flares up. A reminder of both a literal and metaphorical painful truth.
I died.
For eleven minutes, I was gone with no memories of an afterlife or anything else.
I remember being in Lance’s arms, and then I woke up in a bed.
I don’t remember Lena coming in crying over me, but she says she did.
I don’t know how my staff or friends were doing while I was unresponsive. Just darkness.
And for eleven minutes, the world didn’t have me in it.
And you know what? Life kept going for everyone else. The sun still rose in the morning. Traffic was still shitty. There was no observable change because I wasn’t in it.
All my plans were useless, and all it took was a vengeful little bitch and a knife. A lifetime of work gone in an instant.
Loneliness and futility encase my mind. I’m used to fighting these feelings off with a to-do list. But now…
My feet touch the hotel carpet, and I walk back into the living room. Grae’s legs hang off the side of the couch. I can’t tell if he’s asleep or not, behind the stubble and extra years on his face, he’s the boy I loved.
No. The man. And it’s hard to reconcile his last words all those years ago with who’s in front of me.
“Grae?”
“Hmm?” He opens his eyes and gives me a grin. One arm extends toward him while the other wraps around my stomach.
“I don’t want to be alone.” The words feel unnatural coming out of my mouth, but they’re the truth. He takes my hand.
“Okay.” I lead him back to the bed, and he slides in beside me without complaint or smug noises.
“Do you want to be the little spoon?”
“Yes, but please don’t touch my stomach.”
He pauses before pulling my body next to his. He’s warm and tender beneath a chest of muscle. He whispers into my ear, “I didn’t want to be alone either.”
Our breathing syncs into a slow, steady rhythm. He’s going to want more time with me. How long can I keep him before losing him again? Or worse, what if he doesn’t want more time? But that’s a problem for the morning.