Guilty over his own stupidity, and shame over his past behavior, weighed down his feet, but he dragged them to herdoor.
Then, he stood there like a fucking lamppost in broad daylight. Useless. Just staring at her door as if the gray wooden rectangle was about to reveal the secrets of the universe tohim.
Dr. Tucci had turned him into a quivering pile of weak nerves. He mentally kicked himself in the sheen and rang thedoorbell.
Nothing. Not asound.
It’s fucking one in the morning. What did I expect? If she is in, she must be asleep. The living room light was on. But, maybe she forgot to turn itoff.
He was about to turn tail when light footsteps approached. The sound didn’t comfort him. On the contrary. She reached the door, but did not open it. He fidgeted with the leaves of a lush fern in a vase by her door, while he considered hisoptions.
He bet she had checked the peephole. She must have. That would be the smart thing to do if you weren’t expecting visitors and the doorbell rang in the middle of thenight.
Maybe she was too mad at him and didn’t want totalk.
She was entitled to that. He had vanished without a word. It had been weeks since they last talked, and he hadn’t called or textedher.
The butterflies flapped about in his stomach when the loud click of the metal safety pin echoed in the silent corridor as she slid it before unlocking thedoor.
“Hey,” Bruna greeted him, holding the door wideopen.
“Sorry to call on you this late. I noticed your light was on; otherwise, I wouldn’t have. May I come in? It won’t take long.Promise.”
She gestured for him to follow her. “Why so formal? It’s me you’re talking to,T.”
Taking a chair facing Bruna’s spot on the couch, he blurted out, “You know my life turned on its head a couple of weeks ago with Izzie’s arrival. The doctors are running tests to determine if I’m a compatible donor. If so, I’ll go back to the United States for the surgery and should stay for a few months. I wanted to tell you that myself before you heard it from Noah or somebodyelse.”
“Considering I’m a regular at the bistro, thank you for the consideration. I do appreciate it. As for you donating a kidney, I knew you’d make the right decision. You might be Arthur’s only chance.” Tristan wasn’t surprised Bruna knew that part about his son. One of Bruna’s best friends, an American reporter, had just moved to Florianópolis. Vanessa had been hanging out with Noah and his entourage since she came to town and news tended to travel fast. Bruna added, “I’m sure that will also bring you and Izzie close together again. Maybe you’ll finally forgiveher?”
That was the million-dollar question to which Tristan had no clue how to reply. Would he ever forgive Izzie? Could he forgive her, not for the betrayal that never happened, but for hiding Arthur fromhim?
Tristan heard himself answering Bruna’s question as if someone else was speaking. “I never thought that would be possible after the way Izzie leveled my life fifteen years ago. Over these past weeks, I’m beginning to change my mind.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how that plays out,though.”
Bruna smiled. “I’m sure you guys will patch thingsup.”
Tristan returned her smile with a broad grin, the weight he had been carrying in his chest lifted, and he breathed free again. Funny how sometimes talking to friends worked out. Bruna hadn’t offered advice, or given him the secret recipe for happiness. The fact that she listened to him gave Tristan a chance to put into words his innermost feelings. Those he had buried in the deepest dungeons of his subconscious. He shrugged again and stood up from the chair. “I’d better get going. Goodnight,beautiful.”
The endearment rolled off his tongue naturally. No hidden agenda, no secondintentions.
She walked him to the door. “I hope Izzie knows how lucky she is. You’re quite acatch.”
He cupped her cheek and kissed the other. “Right back at you. You’re one in a million. Hope you meet your better half soon. You deserve to behappy.”
With a last wave, he climbed the stairs to his floor, whistling a melody that had been playing in his head. He wished he had time to compose, though. The damn song would not leave him alone until he wrote itdown.
His Muse would have to start cultivating herpatience.
* * *
Later that day,as Tristan waited for Izzie to get out of the restroom, he paced his spacious living room, then stopped at the glass door that opened to the balcony. He didn’t step out, his gaze glued to the mass of green-gray water that formed the North Bay, across from Beria-Mar Norte Avenue. The gentle sway of the waves lulled his mind asusual.
Could it be that everyone was right? Did Noah, Bruna, his mom and Dr. Tucci know his feelings better than himself? Was he holding on to old grudges for fear of what the future might bring? He had always thought he was living in hell for the past fifteen years. The way they saw his situation, he was snug inside his little comfort zone, refusing to venture out of it. Did he dothat?
Truth was that recently, every time he met Izzie, Tristan noticed his numbness got lighter as the fortress of ice he had built around his heart melted an inch or so. Each day, he allowed her to get a little bitcloser.
He didn’t hear Izzie leave the restroom, so he jumped out of his skin at the sound of her raspy voice behind him. “He’s right here,sweetie.”
Before he knew it, he was staring into Arthur’s smiling face on his mom’s cell phone screen. “Hey, what’sup?”
