I thought I’d see her the next day, after attending the funeral, to apologize and make up. To hold her and tell her I stepped over the line, and whatever she decided to do, I would support her. But I never got the chance.
I look back to the spot she sat that last time, tears welling in my eyes. I should’ve said more, should’ve hugged her, and told her there was magic in her that no one else could replace. I would’ve gone on that walk with her like I always did, instead of taking a call.
My breathing becomes shallow as those isolating thoughts come in sharper, more painfully, as I relive all the different ways I would’ve tried to stop her leaving that day, and all the things I wish I’d said.
I should’ve been on that walk with her that day. But the one time I wasn’t there… she died because of it.
I could’ve saved her.
My hands are shaking, and I close the box, unable to even consider going through another. I’m not ready for this.
Just when I thought perhaps I was getting back on top of my emotions, they come flooding back, and I’m dragged back into the place where I can’t breathe, at least not sober.
Not without distraction.
20
DANTE
She hasn’t replied to any of my messages for over a week, and it excites me. It’s unusual when women don’t throw themselves at me. But Romi couldn’t make it any clearer that she hates me, and that does things to me, and I can’t even think straight.
When I’m not with her, I’m thinking about gifts I can send her. I thought for some of them I would receive some kind of reprimand, but nothing so far. She keeps me on my toes, which I fucking like.
I whistle a tune as I take the stairs to our apartment. It’s the early hours of the evening, and I carry a bouquet of two dozen roses, knowing she’ll fucking lose her mind over them—and not in a good way. I doubt she’s into romantic shit like this, and I can’t wait to see her reaction.
I noticed on the way up that the motorcycle I bought her has gone untouched, still with the bow on top. I can appreciate the stubbornness. I knock on the door twice, and hear Borris's small bark, but other than that, nothing.
Well, I tried to be polite by knocking. I pull out my key and smirk when it doesn’t fit. She actually had the locks changed.
How cute.
I take out one of my scalpels and am working the lock when a woman clears her throat behind me. I look over my shoulder at the petite blond-haired lady whose eyebrows are raised.
“Who are you?” she asks accusingly. I suppose this might look bad, not that I give a fuck.
“I’m Romi’s roommate, and you are?” I ask as the door clicks open.
“Oh, she didn’t mention she had a new roommate.” Her frown deepens. “I’m her agent. I’ve been trying to get ahold of her, with no luck.”
“Tell me about it,” I say as I push open the door and collect the roses from the ground. Borris's little tail wags as he follows me, and I cast a glance around the living room, my eye twitching because of the fucking dump it’s become. Since I’ve been gone, it doesn’t even look like she’s taken the trash out once.
I do, however, feel smug when I see the oversized llama statue in the corner of the room. I place the roses on the counter and peek into her room. Nope, not there, but her clothes are all over the floor. My eye twitches again.
“Is Romi here?” the woman calls out.
I’d forgotten all about her, too preoccupied with where the fuck my woman is.
“No, she’s not. Remind me what you do for her again,” I say, coming out of her room, and picking up items left in spots they shouldn’t be. I glance at Borris, who gives me a pleading look with those big, brown eyes. Fuck, I’m such a sucker for the little guy now, if only because he’s an extension of her.
I go to the cupboard, grabbing out the biggest treat I can find. I make mental notes of what else I need to stock up on. Which isn’t much, except Borris’s food, which means she hasn’t been eating again.
“I’m her agent. I was on the phone with her earlier, but she hung up on me. I don’t suppose she’s spoken to you about her recent collection, has she?”
I finally face the woman. I know Romi is a pretty well-known artist. I’ve stalked her social media ever since the day I moved in. From what I’ve seen, however, she has no upcoming events or tours.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“She has an event coming up that will be premiering her new collection, but she hasn’t shown me an update on any pieces, and I’m worried that maybe she hasn’t worked on anything since her roommate passed away.”
