I honestly don’t know. And, frankly, that scares me, too.
So I will do what I must. I will end it. And then, somehow, I will try to survive.
The elevator glides to a stop and I quickly wipe away the tears that have spilled, just in case one of the staff is in the apartment. The doors open and I enter. I drop my purse on the bench that surrounds the floral arrangement, then move on through to the living room.
I stop short the moment I enter the room. Damien is sitting on the floor carefully lifting a frame from a reinforced shipping box. “Well, hello,” he says with a wide, welcoming grin. “Apparently I’m getting two presents today.”
I suck in air, recognizing the image from just the tiniest corner that is peeking out. It is the black-and-white photograph of the mountains at sunset, and I watch, frozen, as he pulls it out, gazes approvingly at it, and then reads the inscription on the back, neatly printed above the artist’s signature: To Damien, the sun will never set on our love. Yours always, Nikki.
I have to fight not to burst into tears.
“It’s beautiful,” he says to me. He rests it against the back of the couch and comes to me, his forehead creased. “Is something wrong?”
“How was Chicago?” I ask, postponing the inevitable.
“Productive.” He takes my hand and leads me around to the couch. “I was able to convince David to talk to me—he agrees that Sofia doesn’t need to be out on her own. She has too many issues, and without her meds . . . ” He trails off. I don’t bother telling him that I know. And that I agree one hundred percent.
“David let her crash at his apartment here in LA. She’s not there now—I checked—but I know what name she’s using, so it’s just a matter of time.”
“What’s the name?” I ask.
“Monica Karts. The last name is an anagram,” he says.
“I know. It took me a moment, but I figured that out.”
“A moment? I just told you.”
“No,” I say. “She told me. I’ve known her for a while now. Just casually. Someone to chat with at the Starbucks near my office.”
He bursts to his feet, but I take his hand and tug him back down. “Wait. I need to say something, and I need to do it fast. It’s why I came by, so please—please just let me get this out, okay?”
I can see the concern in his eyes, and it breaks my heart. But I tell myself there’s no other choice. I’ve been over all my options, and I simply don’t see a way clear that doesn’t lead straight to Damien being destroyed.
For so long, he’s been the one protecting me. This time, I’m doing whatever I can to protect him.
I draw in a breath, both for courage and to try to quell the way my body is trembling. My stomach twists violently, and I’m certain I am going to be sick. I shove it all down. I have to do this. I have to. I imagine that scalpel tight between my fingers and then, in what I have to acknowledge as bitter irony, I cling even tighter to Damien’s hand, fighting that craving for a blade. For the pain.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I finally manage to say. “I can’t live with the secrets and the half-truths and the obfuscation.”
I see shock in his eyes, then pain, and my heart twists.
Very slowly, very carefully, he says, “What are you talking about?”
“Sofia. She was in those photos and you didn’t tell me. Richter abused both of you together and you didn’t tell me. And you did kill Richter, Damien. You killed him to protect her.” I do not look at him. I cannot let him see that I do not blame him.
“Everything I told you about that night was true,” he says. I can hear the tight grip he has on control. Any tighter and it will shatter. “All I did was leave out the reason for the fight.”
“Sofia.”
“He was going to start whoring her out.” The words are as rough as sandpaper. “The son of a bitch was going to whore out his own daughter.”
“I see.” I speak calmly even though my blood runs cold. “But that doesn’t—that doesn’t change anything.” I am wishing for some sort of solution to fly down from the sky. For a magical bubble to swoop in and carry us off. But there is no bubble. There is only cold, hard reality. “I meant what I said. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”
I feel the lie pressing against me. I grab it and wrap it tight around me like a cloak. Because I need this lie. This lie has the power to save Damien even as it is ripping me apart. “I can’t live knowing that there are more and more secrets underneath,” I continue with my rehearsed words. “I can’t go on pretending the shadows don’t bother me.”
“Nikki.” His voice is tight and controlled, but I think I hear a hint of panic underneath, and my heart twists. All I want to do is hold him. All I want is to feel his arms around me.
I stand, afraid that if I don’t get out of there fast, I will back down. And I can’t risk destroying Damien. Not when I’m the one who can save him. “I need to go. I—I’m sorry.”
I turn and hurry toward the elevator, but he doesn’t let me get away. He grabs my elbow to stop me, and I jerk it back. “Dammit, Damien, let me go.”
“We are going to talk about this.” The veneer of shock that had been all over him only moments before has changed to something brash and volatile. I see the anger building in his eyes, about to explode out past the pain, the hurt, the confusion.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Everything is a secret with you. Everything is a challenge. Everything is a game. This stuff about Sofia. That crap you pulled with Lisa.” It is both easy and hard to say these words. Easy, because they are true. Hard, because though his secrets and shadows drive me nuts, I have accepted them as part of the man that I love. And now I am turning that around, bastardizing it in order to create an escape route.
But I have to. I just need to remember that I have to.
“Goddammit, Nikki, do not come in here and dump this on me and expect me to shrug it off and be done with you. I love you. I am not letting you walk out of this room.” His wounded eyes are scanning my face, and I know I have to get out. Have to run before he sees the truth under this mountain of lies.
“I love you, too,” I say, because it is the only truly honest thing I’ve said since I walked in this room. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”
I see the shock on his face, and I turn and hurry again toward the elevator. This time, he doesn’t follow, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or brokenhearted.
I step on, keeping my chin high and my eyes wide and dry. Then, as the elevator doors snick shut, I see Damien fall to his knees, his face a mask of pain and horror and loss.
I slide down the polished wall and, finally, lose myself to the violent shaking of my sobs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I keep Sofia’s scalpels, and every time Damien calls I squeeze my hand tight around the cylindrical handle of the largest one as I force myself not to answer the call. As I tell myself I cannot call him back no matter how much I crave his voice, his touch. And then, in the silence when the ringing stops, I stare at the gleaming blade and wonder why I don’t do it. Why I don’t just use this blade and set free all of this shit that’s boiling inside me, vile and violent.
So I will do what I must. I will end it. And then, somehow, I will try to survive.
The elevator glides to a stop and I quickly wipe away the tears that have spilled, just in case one of the staff is in the apartment. The doors open and I enter. I drop my purse on the bench that surrounds the floral arrangement, then move on through to the living room.
I stop short the moment I enter the room. Damien is sitting on the floor carefully lifting a frame from a reinforced shipping box. “Well, hello,” he says with a wide, welcoming grin. “Apparently I’m getting two presents today.”
I suck in air, recognizing the image from just the tiniest corner that is peeking out. It is the black-and-white photograph of the mountains at sunset, and I watch, frozen, as he pulls it out, gazes approvingly at it, and then reads the inscription on the back, neatly printed above the artist’s signature: To Damien, the sun will never set on our love. Yours always, Nikki.
I have to fight not to burst into tears.
“It’s beautiful,” he says to me. He rests it against the back of the couch and comes to me, his forehead creased. “Is something wrong?”
“How was Chicago?” I ask, postponing the inevitable.
“Productive.” He takes my hand and leads me around to the couch. “I was able to convince David to talk to me—he agrees that Sofia doesn’t need to be out on her own. She has too many issues, and without her meds . . . ” He trails off. I don’t bother telling him that I know. And that I agree one hundred percent.
“David let her crash at his apartment here in LA. She’s not there now—I checked—but I know what name she’s using, so it’s just a matter of time.”
“What’s the name?” I ask.
“Monica Karts. The last name is an anagram,” he says.
“I know. It took me a moment, but I figured that out.”
“A moment? I just told you.”
“No,” I say. “She told me. I’ve known her for a while now. Just casually. Someone to chat with at the Starbucks near my office.”
He bursts to his feet, but I take his hand and tug him back down. “Wait. I need to say something, and I need to do it fast. It’s why I came by, so please—please just let me get this out, okay?”
I can see the concern in his eyes, and it breaks my heart. But I tell myself there’s no other choice. I’ve been over all my options, and I simply don’t see a way clear that doesn’t lead straight to Damien being destroyed.
For so long, he’s been the one protecting me. This time, I’m doing whatever I can to protect him.
I draw in a breath, both for courage and to try to quell the way my body is trembling. My stomach twists violently, and I’m certain I am going to be sick. I shove it all down. I have to do this. I have to. I imagine that scalpel tight between my fingers and then, in what I have to acknowledge as bitter irony, I cling even tighter to Damien’s hand, fighting that craving for a blade. For the pain.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I finally manage to say. “I can’t live with the secrets and the half-truths and the obfuscation.”
I see shock in his eyes, then pain, and my heart twists.
Very slowly, very carefully, he says, “What are you talking about?”
“Sofia. She was in those photos and you didn’t tell me. Richter abused both of you together and you didn’t tell me. And you did kill Richter, Damien. You killed him to protect her.” I do not look at him. I cannot let him see that I do not blame him.
“Everything I told you about that night was true,” he says. I can hear the tight grip he has on control. Any tighter and it will shatter. “All I did was leave out the reason for the fight.”
“Sofia.”
“He was going to start whoring her out.” The words are as rough as sandpaper. “The son of a bitch was going to whore out his own daughter.”
“I see.” I speak calmly even though my blood runs cold. “But that doesn’t—that doesn’t change anything.” I am wishing for some sort of solution to fly down from the sky. For a magical bubble to swoop in and carry us off. But there is no bubble. There is only cold, hard reality. “I meant what I said. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”
I feel the lie pressing against me. I grab it and wrap it tight around me like a cloak. Because I need this lie. This lie has the power to save Damien even as it is ripping me apart. “I can’t live knowing that there are more and more secrets underneath,” I continue with my rehearsed words. “I can’t go on pretending the shadows don’t bother me.”
“Nikki.” His voice is tight and controlled, but I think I hear a hint of panic underneath, and my heart twists. All I want to do is hold him. All I want is to feel his arms around me.
I stand, afraid that if I don’t get out of there fast, I will back down. And I can’t risk destroying Damien. Not when I’m the one who can save him. “I need to go. I—I’m sorry.”
I turn and hurry toward the elevator, but he doesn’t let me get away. He grabs my elbow to stop me, and I jerk it back. “Dammit, Damien, let me go.”
“We are going to talk about this.” The veneer of shock that had been all over him only moments before has changed to something brash and volatile. I see the anger building in his eyes, about to explode out past the pain, the hurt, the confusion.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Everything is a secret with you. Everything is a challenge. Everything is a game. This stuff about Sofia. That crap you pulled with Lisa.” It is both easy and hard to say these words. Easy, because they are true. Hard, because though his secrets and shadows drive me nuts, I have accepted them as part of the man that I love. And now I am turning that around, bastardizing it in order to create an escape route.
But I have to. I just need to remember that I have to.
“Goddammit, Nikki, do not come in here and dump this on me and expect me to shrug it off and be done with you. I love you. I am not letting you walk out of this room.” His wounded eyes are scanning my face, and I know I have to get out. Have to run before he sees the truth under this mountain of lies.
“I love you, too,” I say, because it is the only truly honest thing I’ve said since I walked in this room. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”
I see the shock on his face, and I turn and hurry again toward the elevator. This time, he doesn’t follow, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or brokenhearted.
I step on, keeping my chin high and my eyes wide and dry. Then, as the elevator doors snick shut, I see Damien fall to his knees, his face a mask of pain and horror and loss.
I slide down the polished wall and, finally, lose myself to the violent shaking of my sobs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I keep Sofia’s scalpels, and every time Damien calls I squeeze my hand tight around the cylindrical handle of the largest one as I force myself not to answer the call. As I tell myself I cannot call him back no matter how much I crave his voice, his touch. And then, in the silence when the ringing stops, I stare at the gleaming blade and wonder why I don’t do it. Why I don’t just use this blade and set free all of this shit that’s boiling inside me, vile and violent.
