“A parcel for you, sir.” My doorman hands me a small package. “Security vetted it.”
“Thank you, Ivan.”
It’s a small box wrapped in brown paper and bound with string. Weird. I twirl it around, something heavy shifting the weight inside, and the return address is in Maine. My heart tumbles out of sync. I place it on the marble table in the lobby, equal parts excited and fearful. What if it’s a hateful letter and bear dung?
Between crumpled pieces of newspaper, the jar gleams in the sunlight flooding the hallway through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A slow disbelieving exhale escapes my lips. It’s the tea blend she made for me for more energy after I mentioned in passing that I didn’t drink coffee anymore. I cup it in my hands like it’s the most precious possession and inhale the memory of mornings with Eliza. Peppermint, cedarwood, pine, and rosemary. She’d fix it with a teaspoon of raw sugar and three drops of lemon.
The longing rips my chest open—the care she had for me. I’m holding tangible proof of Eliza’s existence. I never thought a jar of herbs could bring tears to my eyes. I want to hear her voice so badly my finger is hovering over her name. How would that conversation go?
Hey, thanks for the tea, I almost burst into tears thinking about you.
The little jar weighs heavy on my mind for hours. I keep circling back to it and I’m torn between guilt and the selfish instinct to reach out for the thread of hope.
Striding, lost in my thoughts, through the office lobby to my private elevator, it’s too late when I notice Alicia squeezing between the closing doors.
She’s out of breath, leaning against me, sliding a palm over my chest. “I’m so glad I caught you. The Forbes party is next week, how about we make it a longer stay and enjoy a hotel room for the weekend?”
“Who the fuck keeps letting you into the building?” The entire security firm will be fired for this. I specifically banned her from the company building.
“Don’t be silly.” She laughs. “We’re back together now, why wouldn’t I visit you?”
The smell of her perfume makes me nauseous. “Where did that idea come from?” I peel her off me.
“Carter,” she chides playfully, and it curdles my blood. “The media loved us at the ball. And you love the perks of spending time together,” Alicia purrs suggestively.
Anger flairs back into my muscles when I remember how she ambushed me, and how I couldn’t shake her off without causing a scene.
“There was no us, and there won’t be. Ever.”
“You’re better now. Everything can go back to normal.”
Jackie is right. The old normal is not a good place for me.
“Do I have to remind you that you abandoned Jackie when you thought I had one foot in the grave?”
“She’s a big girl and she’ll get over it. I know you won’t hold a grudge.” Alicia’s pout is not as cute as she intends. “I just hate hospitals.”
“I don’t feel any way about you. Are we clear now?”
“What, don’t tell me you spoiled your taste with a bit of small-town girl who stabbed you in the back for a few dollars. You’re better than that, Carter.”
The weight of her slip-up leaves me stunned. Alicia set Eliza up for the picture. She’s more devious than I gave her credit for. I step closer but the look in my eyes tells her she messed up.
“I’m giving you only one warning. It’s more than you deserve. I don’t want to be associated with you. Don’t come near me at events. Keep my name out of your mouth. If you still want to be allowed in this world you’re so desperate to slither into, forget about me and my family or I’ll make it my mission to make you regret ever crossing my path.”
When I reach my floor, I don’t even bother looking back. “Security will escort you out,” I say, nodding to the guards posted outside my door.
I feel the softness of the leather chair, the smooth rich wood of the meeting room table, and a part of my brain registers the words and answers them on autopilot.
The rest of me is 400 miles away, on one evening in June, watching Eliza sitting on the little dock, feet dangling above the water, her toe grazing the surface of the lake. She lets herself just be for ten minutes, ignoring the stress and her fears. I wanted to sit behind her and pull her tight. But I thought it was too much then. Too intimate.
Now I regret not taking every opportunity to hold her and smell her skin.
The team closes their files and my body knows I have to leave this room and get to the next meeting. My feet are doing all the work when Joseph’s voice pulls me out of the memory into my own skin.
“I’m amazed at your talent of appearing like you’re fully here, with us.” His voice is heavy with concern and understanding.
“I am. Right here.” The bitterness in my tone is new and it alerts Joseph, who sits back in the leather chair.
