D stands and wipes his face with a hand towel.He’swearing athletic pants with no shirt, andmy eyes are desperate to follow the droplets of sweat astheytrail down the dips and curves of his taut muscles. He is truly magnificentto behold.
“No need to mess with it.I’mgood with making myself a sandwich or something simple tonight.”Hedoesn’tcomment on my wandering gaze.He hardly looks at me.
“You sure? I really don’t mind.”
“I’msure.I need to get some work done after I shower.” Hecomes closer, elevating my heart rate, but instead of intimacy,he’slookingforescape.His hand on my lower back coaxes meto the side enough for him to squeeze through the doorway without touching him.
He’ssweaty, so the gesture is thoughtful, except itfeels likemore than that. It feels like avoidance.Andthat’swhat it is because afterour short exchange,I’mnow standing alone in an empty room.
Is this his way of telling me he’s changed his mind?
Has he decided I’m not worth the bother?
Fear hollows out my chestand rings in my ears.I’mgoing to lose himif Idon’tdo something.There was a time when I mighthave preferred the safety of isolation to exposing my vulnerabilities, butI’mquickly realizing I want DiAngelo more than I want to be safe.
I want DiAngelo. Period.
And I want DiAngelo to want me.Every broken pieceof me.
Go now,while you have the courage. Hurry.
My legsare in motion of their own volition, carrying me through the apartment to theprimary bathroom.D standsatthe vanitywith the broad expanse of his tattooed backin full view.We lockeyesin the mirror. He must see thedesperation on my face because heimmediatelyturns to face me.
“Kristi told mesomeone was extorting money from Craig and using my safety to control him.”My rushed words sound random, but it feels likethe right place to start. Idon’texactly have a speech planned.All I can do is let my heart do the talking and hopeit comes out right.“I went to the police station anddemanded they tell me the truth. I saw the photos. I saw the quartersandknowtheywere a message related to the money he owed.I know he died because of me—trying to keep me safe.”
“Rina—”DiAngelo takes a step toward me, but I raise my hand to stop him.
“Let me finish. I need to get it all out, then you can say whatever you want.”Iregroup my thoughts for a second before I continue. “The guilt I felt about that was compounded by the fact that I was already contemplating leaving Craig.He was always gone. All he seemed to care about was making more money, but once I learned the reason for that,I hated myself for being so blind.I’vespent the past five years keepingeveryone at arm’s length to avoid ever feeling that pain again.”
My hands worry at one another, the nerves of my impendingconfession building to a frenzied state.I can tell D wants to interject.Concern lines his foreheadand casts harsh shadows across his eyes.He listens, however, asI’veasked, andI’mgrateful because if I stop, I may not ever get it all out.
“I told you I was still in love with Craig, but that was a lie. I haven’t been in love with him for a very long time. I only said that because … because I’m so damn scared of what I’m feeling for you. Scared you’ll get hurt because of me. Scared of falling for you … then losing you. I’ve been so damn terrified that I’ve been pushing you away before we’ve even had a chance becausethere’s something you don’t know about me. Something you may not like.”
I wipe my now sweaty hand on myjeanshorts and unbutton them, letting them drop to the floor.With trembling fingers, I lift my shirt over my head so thatI’mstanding before him in my bra andpanties.
D’s concern has shifted to confusion as he tries to figure outwhatI’mtrying to tell him.
He’ll see soon enough, and then there’ll be no going back.
Ihookmy thumbs in my panties and drag them down over my hips untiltheyjoin my shorts and shirt on the floor.I nervously run my hand across the blotchy skin of my lower belly, and when I speak again, myvoice is fragile and raw.
“I struggled with the guilt afterCraig was murdered. One night, by accident, I spilled hot wax on myself.”
DiAngelo’s eyes clench shut.
His anguish feels like a door slammed in my face,stealingthe oxygenfrom my lungs.
“I … uh … I know it sounds crazy,” I force myself to continue. “ButIfelt better afterward. Like the pain reset my brain. I knowit’sfucked up, and I totally understand ifthis changes things. I just needed you to know that Iwasn’trejecting you—I justdidn’tknow how to tell you the truth. Thisdoesn’thappen often, butI was struggling afterthe cemeterywhen things shifted between us, and I got weak.I’msorry,” I breathe, myvision now swimming with tears.
I reach for my panties.
“Stop.” D’s heavycommandfreezes me on the spot.
CHAPTER 50
DIANGELO
Present
