Paging through her journal, I lost all track of time and any fucking sense.
I read it cover to cover, nearly three years of entries. It was scintillating. Erotic. And utterly fascinating. Every part of Tara was revealed in these pages, and I fell even more hopelessly in love with her. She was kind, and funny, and unapologetic about the way she lived her life.
When I finished, I placed the journal on the empty pillow beside me in bed, where she’d slept earlier this evening and it still smelled like her, and hoped she could forgive me.
I fell asleep for the second time with my clothes still on, but it was restless. I wondered if it was because she wasn’t here, but as my phone vibrated a second time on the nightstand, I realized what was happening. Pale light came from the screen. Someone was texting me at four a.m.
Tara: Did I meaning anything to you?
Tara: Or was I just a story?
I bolted upright in my bed and thumbed out my response, my heart pounding ferociously.
Grant: You mean everything to me. It was never about a story.
The bubbles flashed on the screen, indicating she was typing, and when the message came through, my heart plummeted in my chest. Fuck.
Tara: THEN WHY DID YOU TAKE MY JOURNAL???
-31-
Tara
I didn’t sleep much, even though my body wanted it. My mind was too loud and too angry, and my heart was too hurt. It was an invisible wound, bleeding in my chest where no one could see, but I felt it with every painful breath.
Everyone had lied, which was hard to handle, but I wasn’t sure I’d survive Grant’s latest betrayal. He hadn’t just lied, he’d deceived. He’d stolen from me. Taken something I didn’t want shared with anyone else. Had he learned nothing from what his ex-girlfriend had done to him? This was a million times worse.
On top of all that, he’d let me squirm on a hook of guilt for more than a month as I wrestled with revealing what I did for a living. I’d had massive angst it was going to drive him away. But he already knew, and had just played along, making me a total fool.
All so he could get his precious story.
As I stood in front of the apartment door, a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a paper bag of blueberry scones in the other, I fractured. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to have to do this.
Suck it up and get it over with.
I knocked on the door, and a moment later, footsteps approached.
When it swung open, Hector stood there, wearing a white t-shirt, plaid patterned pants, and his hair was askew. I knew they’d been awake for a few hours, but it was a lazy Sunday for them. He was in his late forties, patches of gray in his short beard, and in great shape. I’d passed him plenty of times as he was leaving or coming back from a morning run.
“Hi,” I said, mustering a bright tone when I was all darkness inside. “We haven’t officially met, but I’m Tara. I live downstairs.”
“Hey, there.” He didn’t seem put out by my intrusion, just confused. “I’m Hector. Is Brad being too loud? I know he’s a heavy walker.”
Between the two of them, I was sure Hector was worse, but I said nothing. I was barely holding it together. “These are for you.” I shoved the tray and the bag at him. “Coffee and scones.”
His confusion shifted into worry as he cautiously took them from me. “Um, thank you. Is everything okay?”
I pressed my lips together and tried to nod but couldn’t. My eyes watered. “I was wondering if I could ask you and Brad,” I sucked in a calming breath, “for a really big favor?”
Hector shifted the contents in his hands. Was he nervous I was going to ask for money? Or worse . . . a ride to O’Hare?
Brad appeared over Hector’s shoulder. He was younger than his partner by a few years. He was handsome, but when he smiled, the dimples came out and made him seriously cute. “Hi, neighbor,” he said casually, but picked up on Hector’s mood right after and turned serious. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but my,” I stumbled with the right word, “ex-boyfriend is coming over soon to return something, and I was hoping you guys wouldn’t mind hanging out with me while that happens.”
Both men’s eyes went wide.
“Did he threaten you?” Hector asked. “If you don’t feel safe, you should call the police.”