25. Todd
TODD
Cici had been telling the truth this entire time.
I picked up my phone and called her again.
Straight to voicemail.
I ended the call and immediately stood.
I was done sitting in this office.
I needed to see her.
Now.
I headed for the elevator.
Ten minutes later, I stepped into the executive parking garage and walked toward my usual space.
I stopped.
The parking spot was empty.
I stared at it.
"Son of Bitch!"
Bunny and Justin had driven me to the restaurant.
I'd taken an Uber directly to the office.
At no point had I considered how I was getting home afterward.
Or anywhere else.
I checked my watch.
Nearly two in the morning.
Perfect.
Just fucking perfect.
Footsteps echoed through the garage.
I turned and spotted one of the maintenance employees heading toward the exit.
Frank.
I knew his name because he'd worked in the building for nearly fifteen years.
"Frank."
He looked up.
"Mr. Archer?"
I crossed the garage toward him.
"Did you drive to work?"
His eyebrows rose.
"Yeah."
"I need a favor."
A grin spread across his face.
"That sounds suspicious."
"I need to borrow your truck."
Frank stared at me.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
In my face.
"Wait. You're serious?"
"I'm serious."
"You want to borrow my truck?"
"Yes."
He looked around the empty garage as if expecting a camera crew to jump out.
"My truck?"
"Frank."
His smile slowly faded.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Five minutes later, I was sitting behind the wheel of what appeared to be a truck held together entirely by rust and stubbornness.
The driver's seat squeaked every time I moved. The dashboard was cracked and the check engine light glowed steadily.
I shifted into drive. The truck immediately backfired.
I closed my eyes.
"Terrific. Just terrific."
The truck rattled onto the highway.
Charlotte disappeared behind me as I headed toward Lake Norman.
Toward Cici.
Toward the disaster I'd created.
I brought up Bunny's contact and hit call. I put my phone on speaker.
She didn't even say hello. "Tell me you found something."
"I found everything."
Silence.
Then, "Was it who we thought?"
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"Yes, it was Ethan."
The words tasted bitter.
"Wow."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"Todd."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
The truck backfired again.
A loud bang echoed through the cab.
"Was that a gunshot I just heard?"
I glanced at the dashboard.
"I borrowed a truck."
"You what?"
"I borrowed a truck."
Another backfire exploded.
Bunny laughed.
"Not helping."
"I don't think that truck is helping either."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Where are you?"
"On my way to Cici's."
"Good."
I stared at the dark highway stretching ahead.
"I should've believed her."
"Yes, you should've."
"I knew something didn't feel right."
"Yes."
"I still accused her."
"Yes… you hurt her, Todd."
Every answer landed like a punch.
I deserved every one.
Bunny sighed.
I cleared my throat before speaking.
"I didn't tell you before. I guess I was still processing it."
"What?"
I took a breath, "Cici's pregnant.
"Oh my God, Todd! That's wonderful!"
A long pause.
"Well... she told me the news... and I basically walked out on her."
"You what?"
"I told her that I didn't know what to say."
My vision blurred and a lump had formed in my throat.
"Wow, uhm... that wasn't your smartest move."
"I mean... what kind of man does that? I hurt the women in my life and I don't know why."
"Todd?" Bunny's voice cracked.
I couldn't answer her.
"Todd?" She tried again.
"Yeah, I'm here."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"You better be prepared to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness."
"I'll do whatever it takes."
"I mean it Todd."
"I know, so do I."
"Good."
I didn't have a response. Because she was right.
The truck hummed beneath me as the road blurred past in the darkness. I stared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
The image of Cici standing in her kitchen flashed through my head. She was pale, shaking, terrified and pregnant with my child.
And what did I do? I said the worst possible thing.
My chest felt hollow.
The conversation eventually ended, but the guilt remained.
It sat beside me the entire drive.
Every mile.
Every turn.
Every minute.
I heard Cici's voice.
I heard my own.
I don't know what to say.
The words made me sick.
Because I knew exactly what I should have said.
I believe you.
I'm sorry.
We'll figure this out together.
Instead, I stood there like an idiot while the woman I loved looked at me as if I'd shattered her heart.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead.
My thoughts drifted somewhere I hadn't allowed them to go in years.
Emma.
I saw her face.
Heard her voice.
Remembered the last argument we'd ever had.
I snapped at her.
Told her to grow up.
The last words I'd ever spoken to my sister.
The last words before she got into the car accident.
The last words before she died.
For years I'd told myself I couldn't have known.
That nobody could have known.
But the guilt never left.
And now here I was, again.
Another woman I loved.
Another moment I couldn't take back.
Another set of words I would spend the rest of my life wishing I hadn't said.
The truck backfired as I turned onto Cici's road.
The sound echoed through the quiet neighborhood.
I winced.
A porch light switched on two houses down.
"Sorry," I muttered.
The truck rattled into her driveway.
Then backfired again.
Louder.
Of course it did.
I shut off the engine. But the truck refused to die quietly. It sputtered and groaned in protest, hanging on for a few stubborn seconds before finally giving up.
The silence that followed felt almost suspicious.
Then I climbed out.
The driver's door let out a long, tortured squeal that sounded like an animal in distress.
I froze.
Wonderful.
I eased the door shut as carefully as I could. The hinges screamed anyway.
I sighed and turned toward the house.
Cici was already standing on the porch.
Watching me.
The screen door was open.
The porch light illuminated her face.
My pulse immediately accelerated.
For a second, I forgot every speech I'd rehearsed.
Every apology.
Every explanation.
Everything.
Her gaze flicked past me toward the truck.
Then back to me.
"What are you driving?"
I looked over my shoulder.
"Frank's truck."
She blinked.
"Who’s Frank?"
"Night maintenance."
Confusion flickered across her face.
I took a step toward the porch.
"Cici."
She didn't move.
Didn't smile.
Didn't cry.
Didn't yell.
She simply waited.
The distance between us felt enormous.
"Can we talk?"
Her expression never changed.
"About what?"
The question hit harder than any accusation.
Because she sounded genuinely indifferent.
Her voice was steady. Controlled. Detached.
I swallowed.
For the first time since meeting her, I couldn't read her.
And when she didn't step aside or open the door wider to invite me in.
I realized something terrifying.
I was standing outside.
And she intended to keep me there.