55. Chapter 55
Chapter 55
VIVIAN
A fter we spend my first night back together, Declan leaves every day, and I don’t see him until night, if he even comes home at all. When he does, Declan showers and comes to me in bed in the early hours of the morning, smelling like fresh soap, and makes love to me.
Each night I think it is a dream, and I crave his touch and his security so much that I throw myself into him. And when we have each found our release, our pleasure, and cried out one another’s name, I cling to him, thinking he will be there when I wake up, but he never is.
Five nights in a row this happens. He doesn’t even say goodbye to me or leave me a note. He comes in while I am asleep, then leaves while I am still asleep. On the sixth night, I decide to stay up for him.
I sit on the couch in the dark and wait for Declan to come home. I watch as he comes in, so completely silent, if I hadn’t seen him I wouldn’t have even known he was there. He goes straight to the bathroom, and I hear the shower. I stay so still and listen, hearing him open the curtain, then get in, the sound of water hitting his body, and then the shower shuts off. Another minute or two passes before Declan exits the bathroom. I admire his muscled, god-like body as he moves in the shadows, just a towel around his waist, and goes into the bedroom.
I wait, ready to see his reaction. It’s so selfish, totally petty, but when I see him freeze in the doorway and rush forward, presumably to look for me, I feel a sick satisfaction. Declan runs back out of the room, and that’s when I speak.
“It’s fucking scary, isn’t it,” I say, and Declan stops at the sound of my voice, “not knowing where the person you love is, am I right?”
He doesn’t say anything; he just looks my way.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I demand, my voice hard, cold.
“Vivian.”
I wait, and he says nothing else. “What? What, Declan? What!” I scream. I get up and run to him and hit and slap and punch. I hit until my limbs are sore and he just takes it. He doesn’t move or try to grab me. He just lets me hurt him until I can’t anymore. Until I am sobbing and crying and I am just weakly putting my hands into him. “I can’t do this anymore!” I shout at him.
Before I fall, Declan wraps me up in his arms and takes me to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and cradling me against him. “It isn’t supposed to be like this,” I hiccup out.
He presses a kiss to my temple, and I hate that I am soothed by it. I hate that I feel better by being so close to him. I hate that he feels like my home.
I stay in his arms, and finally the tears stop, and my breathing settles. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” I remind him in a whisper.
Declan kisses the top of my head, and then he tips my head back and places soft kisses on my face. He soothes them slowly over me as he moves and shifts to lay me on the bed. I should stop him, fight him, tell him that he doesn’t get to make me worry and stress and then share this with me. But I don’t because I can’t. All the time I spend with him feeds my soul. And right now my soul is starving.
Declan undresses me and we touch each other leisurely. There is no hurry or madness in what we do. Even when he slides inside me, he moves unhurriedly, his stare glued to mine, and I can’t read him. He slides his hands down to my legs and moves my hips to rock into me deeper, then covers my mouth with his.
“I love you, Vivian,” he says into my mouth. “I love you so much. Everything I do is for you.”
Tears leak out of my eyes at his words as my orgasm builds in my belly. I grip his strong biceps as pleasure shudders through me and I cry out his name. Declan comes on the heels of my quaking, and then we lie together, still connected. Gently kissing each other.
I feel myself getting sleepy and I fight it, not wanting this moment to end. “Will you stay with me?” I ask him.
“I’m always with you, Vivian,” he whispers to me, and his answer chips at my heart. “I will always take care of you.”
I hate his words because they aren’t an answer; they’re a riddle. “I love you, Declan,” I tell him, trying to hide my quivering chin. And so I give in to sleep.
When I wake up he is gone. I move through the apartment like a zombie and try to think about what to do, but every thought returns to Declan. I go between thoughts of how I don’t know if I can live without him, but I’m not sure I can survive the way we are doing things much longer.
I think too about what Bailey said, to just trust my gut, but my gut has taken a vow of silence. As I zone out, I hear the familiar noise of the mailbox opening and closing, and I go to gather it, hoping to distract myself from what my reality is.
Grocery flyers and junk mail take up the bulk of the mail, but at the bottom I find a large packet, addressed to me. On the envelope are multiple rerouting stamps indicating my change of address, and I see that this letter was actually mailed weeks ago, but seems to have been delayed. The return address is from the Central District of Columbia University. My hands shake as I open the sealed flap and pull out the top sheet. Dear Miss Santos, Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I inform you of your acceptance…
I stop reading. My first acceptance letter. I had received a few rejection letters, but no acceptance letters. My heart jackhammers in my chest as I read it. But then it falls when I see the college is located in Washington, DC. My excitement quickly diminishes when I realize that I’d have to move. And move far—too far for me to see Declan regularly.
Well, maybe that’s for the best, a small voice whispers, and I shake it away. I’m not moving that far away from him. We love each other.
But, I decide it wouldn’t hurt to see what kind of financial aid they’d offer me. I dump the packet onto the counter and spend the next hour in shock at the amount of financial assistance I have been offered. My application to the school and many of the grants they offered must have flagged something somehow, or tricked the system. I’ve been approved for a special learner grant, one I vaguely remember seeing, and that has covered my tuition for the first year. Another scholarship I applied for I was awarded, and that one would cover room and board. I was also placed on a waitlist for a teacher’s aide role that provides a small weekly stipend. The only thing not covered is my food benefit, which I have more than enough saved to cover.
I am at a loss what to do.
I grab my phone, the iPhone Declan had given me and returned only after Axel had deactivated the tracking feature, and call Declan. It rings once and goes to voicemail. I send a text, “I need to talk to you, it’s important,” and an hour later there is no response. So I call, on repeat for two hours, and each time the phone call is declined. In between the calls I send texts, but those remain unanswered and unread.
I open the web browser and search for the next bus to Washington, DC, and find it leaves in just over two hours.
And the decision is made for me.