CHAPTER 32
Merrick
I stood across the street for a third day in a row.
It felt like I was starting to establish something of a routine: Get up hungover at the ass crack of dawn. Take two Motrin with a gallon of Gatorade and let the water sluice over me in the shower. Put on a baseball cap, sunglasses, and dark zip-up sweatshirt, walk down more than forty flights of stairs and slip out the service entrance to minimize the chances of running into anyone from the office. Then hike it over to 19th Street to stand in a doorway that reeked like piss and watch a man I loathed from a distance.
I wasn’t even sure what the hell I was looking for. But just like the prior two days, Aaron had left with Eloise about twenty minutes ago. His day seemed pretty scheduled, so I expected him back soon. Ten minutes later, he strolled up to his building. Only this time, he stopped at the front door, turned…and stared right across the street at me.
Shit.
After a few seconds, he walked to the curb, looked both ways, and jogged across the street. I usually ran five miles a day, so I could have pulled the bill of my hat down and taken off. He never would have caught me, especially not with the adrenaline flowing through my veins at the moment. But I couldn’t move. Not even when he walked right up to me.
“Do you want to come up and talk?” he said calmly.
I held his eyes. He had to see the hatred in mine. “How do you know I didn’t come here to kill you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t. Do you want to come up anyway?”
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing here, yet I found myself nodding. My body was rigid the entire ride up in the elevator, and when he opened the door to his apartment, I paused but ultimately followed him in.
Aaron went straight to the kitchen. He stood with his back to me at the counter. “Coffee or whiskey?”
“Whiskey.”
He nodded, and while he pulled a bottle and glasses from the cabinet, I walked over to the refrigerator. Hand-drawn pictures hung from various magnets all over. One, in particular caught my attention. It was mostly a bunch of scribbled circles, but I could make out that they were supposed to be people. One was in pink and small, and the one next to her was three times the size and blue. A third pink circle-person was at the top of the page, next to a bunch of dark blue scribbled lines.
Aaron walked up and offered me a glass. He pointed at the drawing as he sipped his drink. “She knows her mother is in heaven, and heaven is above, so she puts her next to the clouds.”
I nodded.
To the right was a picture of Amelia. She was sitting in the pilot’s seat of a small plane, smiling at the person taking the photo from outside. I gulped down the entire glass of whiskey while staring at it and held the glass out to Aaron. No conversation was necessary for him to refill it.
“Why don’t we sit at the table?” he said, holding out a full glass again.
We took seats across from each other.
“Did you come here to punch me or to talk?” Aaron asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, I deserve the punch. So have at it, if it’ll make you feel better.”
We stared each other down for a moment. “How long was it going on?”
Aaron set down his glass. “About six months, I guess.”
“Why didn’t she break things off with me?”
“Because she loved you. I gave her an ultimatum once—told her it was me or you. She said if she had to choose, it would be you. That it would always be you.”
I was quiet for a long time. “Why then? Why’d she do it?”
He shook his head. “That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times—in addition to why I did it, knowing full well she wasn’t available. I was just a selfish asshole. But I don’t think that was the reason for Amelia. I actually don’t believe it had anything to do with me. I think she wanted you to find out.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Why?”
“So you’d break it off, so she could hurt you before you hurt her.”