“Having my brother be able to stand in the same room as me would do me good.”
I ignore him. It’s selfish, I know. He’s trying. But I can't deal with him right now. “Although I didn’t think the Cat House was where your interests lay any longer.” Because ever since his meeting with Solana, he’s been asking questions. “I saw Solana tonight,” I taunt.
“Did you?” He drinks. “Did she ask about me?”
“No, oddly. I don’t think you’re as memorable as you like to think of yourself.”
“Well, I’ll pay her a visit at the shop.”
I grow serious. “No, you will not.”
“Why not, big brother?”
“You know why. If Mercedes sees you—”
“I’m not going into hiding, Judge. I told you I want to talk to her. I want to apologize.”
“I don’t care what you want. You’ll upset her. She’s in a fragile state.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not sure she has a fragile state.”
I stalk toward him, take him by the collar, and shake him so hard that the scotch splashes from the rim of the glass onto his hand. “You will stay away from her. From anywhere she might be, or God help me—” I stop myself. God help me what? Christ. I’m even using my grandfather’s words. His threats. I release my brother, pat down his shirt, and step away, raking a hand through my hair.
“I’m not scared of you, Judge. Give it up. You’re not him. Besides, he’d never have wasted good scotch.” He rinses his hand at the sink, then repours and drinks. “I will stay away from Mercedes to keep from upsetting her, not because you’re threatening me. But I’ll only do it if you have a drink with me.”
“That’s blackmail.”
He shrugs.
“Fine,” I acquiesce. He pours, and I take the glass, keeping my eyes on him as I swallow it all down.
“That’s the spirit, I guess,” he says, clearly disappointed. He’s alone too. I know this. But I can’t deal with that right now.
“There.” I hand him the glass and go to my study where I’ll spend the next few hours. Lois has left a note propped up against the stack of mail that dinner is in the kitchen and instructions how to warm it up, but I throw it away. I’m not hungry. I sit down and go through the letters, mostly unimportant, until I come up to a box without a return label. It only has my name on it, Lawson Montgomery, but no address. It must have been hand-delivered. Using the letter opener, I cut the tape away. It’s stuffed with tissue paper, and my heartbeat quickens as I push it away because I swear I smell the subtle but distinct scent of her. Mercedes’s signature perfume made just for her. And I inhale deeply, that ache in my chest throbbing. Alive. But when I see the box within the box, it’s like having a knife slice through the muscle there. A sharp, smooth blade that slides easily into the tender, beating mass of it.
Because inside is the necklace. One of the few gifts I gave her. The one that meant more than I realized at the time. I take the box out, search the tissue paper for more, a note, something she wrote me. Anything. But I find nothing. Perhaps inside the rich velvet jeweler’s box. I take the lid off, open the folded layers that protect the diamonds, and the throbbing in my chest quiets. Because it’s just the necklace returned to me. No note. No need. Its absence speaks volumes.
I push back from the desk and take the bottle of scotch because maybe tonight I need the numbing. I pour myself a generous glass and drink it all down as I stand at a safe distance from the glinting diamond in the open box. I remember what she said when I gave it to her. That it wasn’t a gift because she’d earned it. More than earned it.
I pour a second glass.
How can the recent past become so distant so quickly? How can things change so fast they leave you unable to breathe? Unable to believe they really happened to you. Because Mercedes having been here, touching her, feeling her beside me, beneath me. Being inside her. Smelling her hair. Watching her sleep. Holding her. It’s as though it never happened. Or like it happened to someone else. How can she be gone so completely, all evidence of her erased from my house? How could I have let Santiago take her away from me?
I drink three more glasses as the drizzle that had begun just a little while ago turns to an angry rain lashing the windows. It’s then I snatch the necklace out of its box and shove it into my pocket. I stalk back out of the house to my car, and I drive back to her house, where the IVI guards are still sitting in their goddamned Rolls Royce watching her door like two hulking machines.
When I climb out of my vehicle, one of them opens his door but must recognize me and nods. He gets back into his car. I guess Santiago didn’t give them a shoot-to-kill picture of me. I leave the car parked half in the street, half in a spot because honestly, I probably shouldn’t have driven tonight. I stalk up to her door. I have a key, but I ring the bell. Well, I more lay my weight against the damn thing until a light turns on, and I see her in the narrow, rectangular window beside the door. When she sees me, she comes to an abrupt stop. I’m fucking getting soaked as lightning electrifies the sky, so I lean against the doorbell again before she finally opens the door, and we stand face-to-face for the first time since that terrible day I lost everything.