I cover my face with my hands, regret a heavy weight in my stomach. I remember how kind and gentle he was with me when I was falling apart. How he pushed, but not too hard. How he made me laugh. How he made me come.
I sigh.
I remember running through the snowy woods with him, being chased by a witch’s ghost, and us nearly falling down laughing at ourselves. And the care he took with me that night after I was so stressed about the snow. He’s always been mindful of my desire to not draw attention to myself, even before the concert disaster; I remember that night at the hotel in Vegas when he placed himself between me and others waiting for the elevator, blocking their view of me. How he booked a cottage instead of a hotel room so I could have privacy.
I relive the day Marek took me back to my apartment and told me he didn’t want me to leave. And I rejected him.
I was so sure in that moment that it was the right thing for both of us. I didn’t believe he wanted something more than fun and games, and I was a mess and needed to heal. I truly believed that I didn’t deserve to have good things happen to me because of all those people who died or were injured in the disaster. I love him and I lost him because of that stupid belief.
My regret turns to anguish, my chest tight with pain, my throat crowded with emotion. I wish I could go back and do things differently. But I can’t. I can only go forward.
A mistake is a lesson.
But man, I’m tired of learning lessons. It’s exhausting.
I don’t know what to do about this. I think I owe Marek… something. An apology at the very least. I drag myself up from the couch and head downstairs to my little music room. Which is where I get the idea.
28
MAREK
Mabel has invited me to dinner at their place tonight. It’s cool having her so close, and Benny’s my best buddy, so we do that on the reg. It’s always casual. I bring a bottle of wine and some beer, she cooks a great dinner, and then we hang around watching TV or yakking. Tonight, dinner is beef stroganoff and noodles.
I sit at the counter while she cooks and Benny helps her. I watch her stir full fat sour cream into the stroganoff. “That’s a lot of calories,” I remark.
“Yes.” She nods. “You need them.”
I frown.
“You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”
Shit. “Yeah. A few pounds.”
“More like ten. That’s a lot for you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re trying to fatten me up?”
She grins. “Yes. I’m also putting butter on the noodles.”
“Jesus.” It sounds delicious, actually. “Okay, fine.”
“So is the weight loss because you’re heartbroken?” she asks.
“Heartbroken,” I scoff, then sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she says gently. “You gave up on Nikki way too easily.”
My eyes bulge. “What the fuck?”
She shrugs and dumps a package of noodles into a pot of boiling water. “I said what I said.”
“I asked her to stay! She left!” I remind her.
Benny’s listening to this with an expression that’s both concerned and weirdly amused.
“Yeah, but she said you could see how things went and maybe you could be together.”
“How do you know that?”
