CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild language, extreme grief, minor sensual themes.
{{Unedited}}
The days seemed to melt together. Austin would get up, make food, and she’d barely eat. He forced her to drink, however. After the second week, she’d drink on her own, and was even moving around the apartment most days to shower by herself, dress herself, and sit on the couch, albeit mostly in silence and still staring. She held Chocolate close when she curled on her side on the couch, and always took Austin’s hand and led him to bed with her when it became night.
He couldn’t say that he objected, he loved sleeping with her in his arms, and as time passed, she woke up less and less. It was getting her out of bed in the morning that was difficult.
Austin still hadn’t heard from Chamber. He went to the overpass Friday night and sat with a beer. Chamber never came and Austin always drank his beer, and went back to Marielle who was able to spend an hour or two alone with Felix after the second week without too much of an issue. After about the two-hour mark, she always started texting him and asking when he’d be back, and the words were always rushed and panicked. She was scared… scared that she’d been dreaming and that he was actually dead, scared that he’d die or leave her for good while he was out.
He came home on Christmas eve with a tree and set it up, decorations, lights, and all, and set a little gift under it. When he turned, he saw her looking at him from the hallway. She was in pajamas, a robe hanging off her small body, and Chocolate the bear was curled against her, under her arm. “That’s really pretty,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”
He smiled and went to her, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s not Christmas without a tree, right?” he asked.
“I guess,” she said, looking around again as if she was still searching for something that she couldn’t see. Then her eyes focused on her hands again, and she scrubbed them against his chest as if trying to wipe away blood that would never come out.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, pulling her into him. “There’s no blood. It’s in your mind. I’m here, I’m alive, and you’re in my arms, and you’re safe.” He looked down at her, tipping her chin to force her to look into his eyes. “I am not bleeding, okay?”
She nodded. “I know, just… sometimes I still see it.”
“I know,” he whispered, giving her an adoring smile. “I am not bleeding, I am alive. It’s Christmas eve, and I am here with you,” he said gently, and he pressed her even closer. She was never close enough. “And you are safe in my arms. I brought us a tree, and I bought you a present,” he whispered, kissing her forehead gently. She nodded and pressed her cheek against his chest listening for his heartbeat. It was there, strong, and steady. “Come to the couch with me, I’ll make us some lattes, and we’ll drink them and stare at the fireplace, okay?”
“Okay.”
He led her to sit; she pulled her knees up to her chest and held her bear closely. “You know…” he said with a smile. “I got you that bear so you could hold me without holding me. But I’m here,” he said, leaning back against the seat. Then he stretched back, putting both hands behind his head and giving her a soft, inviting smile. She slowly crawled up onto his chest, and nestled into the crook of his arm, breathing in the smell that she loved and adored. Then she reached up, and stroked his hair a little, causing his heart to speed up as her fingertips wandered down to his earring where they gently brushed his lobe.
He let out a ragged breath. “Can I kiss you, Marielle?” Her eyes refocused on his face, and she narrowed them a little. “Please? Can I kiss you? You’re the only one who gets my kiss,” he reminded.
She paused, looking off, then shook her head. “I’m not ready.”
“Are you still rejecting me?”
“I can’t accept you right now,” she said still in that other world. “I’m not there yet. I know certain things would have to happen, first.”
Austin swallowed, “No, you know what? I understand,” he whispered. She actually came back for a moment and looked at him with wide eyes. “I get it. It’s your decision. You can reserve the right to say no and I’ll still be okay,” he said flatly.
“Will you?”
“It’ll hurt like hell, and it’ll always hurt, Marielle. But none of this was normal, or… maybe if we’d met under different circumstances.” His voice trailed off. “It’s okay if your answer is no. We’ve both been through so much, that I get it. It hurts, I’m not going to tell you it doesn’t hurt… but I’ll accept it and move on.” He sighed and squeezed his own knee as if ringing something out. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into being with me right now that’s- that’s not right. I’m not taking care of you or loving you because you’re going to give me something in return. I’m doing it because I love you. End story.”
She went distant again, thinking. “Okay,” was all that she said.
“But darling, just in case you had any doubts? I still love you.” The softest smile crossed her lips. “Do you still love me?”
Her eyes watered and closed a little. “Yes.”
He gently kissed the top of her head and ran his fingers through her short black hair. It was getting longer and curling around her chin. He liked it. He held her against him, watching the clock. It was amazing how right now, he had more time with her than he did when he’d signed that contract for their affair; more than double in fact, but he was afraid. Still, he let her rest on him until she fell into a deep sleep.
Nothing in the world would make him move. Even after hours passed and his bladder called for him to relieve himself, he remained still, and watched her breathe, desperately wanting to be in there with her; in her mind. When she stirred about an hour later, and shot up, breathing hard, he held her, cradled her, and took her to bed. Felix followed.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, he was watching her and he smiled warmly. “Merry Christmas, darling,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” she purred back.
He smirked, boyishly. “What can I do for you today?”
She twisted the blankets in her fingers. “My heart hurts.”
“I know,” he said, gently brushing her hair back from her face.
She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes. “Can we just take things really slowly today?” She asked.
He nodded. “Of course, whatever you want.”
“I’ll go shower, but… I want to rest. This- today… it’s too hard.”
He swallowed and reached over, gently stroking her face with the tips of his fingers. “We don’t have to celebrate, but I do want to do a few things here. Is that okay?” She slowly nodded. “I want to make us dinner, and I want to curl up with you, and stare at the big fireplace later while we watch a movie or something. Is that okay?” She nodded again. “Will you eat some breakfast with me? Nothing fancy. I can go get us doughnuts if you want.”
She raised her head as if something crossed her mind. “Oh, doughnuts,” she whispered as if remembering that they existed for the first time in a long while. “I like the ones with sprinkles,” she said distantly. “And apple fritters.”
“Do you want either of those?”
“I’ll eat both if you bring them back,” she replied.
He smiled, that was perhaps the most she’d eaten since Vincent had died. Marielle was already on the thin side, and in just two weeks and a few days, she was looking like she had dropped five to ten pounds. “Will you be okay if I leave for about twenty minutes?”
“Yeah, I’ll feed Felix and shower,” she said, flatly.
He nodded and stood, stretching, and going to put his boots back on before running down to the car and going to the nearest doughnut drive thru.
She showered and fed the cat. By the time she was done, he was back with a familiar pink box of pastry. He made coffee, and they sat on the couch to eat together. He fed her bites of doughnut and they both smiled. She leaned in and rubbed her nose against his with a small giggle and he brightened. “There’s my girl,” he whispered, gently combing her hair back from her face and for a few minutes as they ate, she was with him and a lot like herself. Then she slipped again and went away, as silent tears rolled down her face.
He held her for a moment, cleaned up breakfast, and carried her back to bed where he lay her down, put Chocolate in her arms, and wrapped the soft blanket around her body. “Do you just want to sleep for a while again?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’ll be here. I’m going to leave in a little while, but I’ll only be gone about an hour, okay? Then I’ll be back. If you wake up and I’m not here, text me and I’ll call you and talk to you if you need it.”
She smiled at him, and squeezed her bear. “You’re so good to me.”
“I’m so in love with you.”
He bent and kissed her forehead and left her to be alone for a while.
***
She dozed all day and when she finally got out of bed, she put the robe on, and staggered out to the living room, hearing noise in the kitchen.
Marielle paused in front of the tree. It was gorgeous, with bright white lights, and all the decorations were red and shining. It only took her a moment to realize that this tree was their favorite colors combined; red, and emerald green. It was so pretty. In fact, she thought that it was the prettiest tree that she’d ever seen, and yet she knew that her expression didn’t say any of that. It was still haunted… blank. Her eyes welled again, and she wiped them, hearing the commotion a few feet away again.
She shuffled to the kitchen, blanket draped around her shoulders and the moment she looked inside, she burst out laughing, her cheeks beet red, fingers to her mouth.
Austin turned to her in red pants, suspenders, black boots, and a Santa hat and nothing else. He was trying to make dinner, and it was obvious that “dinner” was getting away from him. He grinned at her and opened his hands as if to say, you caught me.
“Ho, ho, ho…” he chuckled.
She was in stitches, nearly falling down the wall and the sound of her laugh made his face beam with a look that said that his silliness was worth it. She approached him, “What are you doing?” she bellowed.
“I wanted to make you dinner,” he replied with a grin. “You know I can’t cook…”
“You’re trying though,” she said looking over the potatoes which looked fine, the stuffing, which was easily salvageable, and the cranberries, which were dead. She checked the turkey in the oven. It looked fine.
She pulled back and looked him over. He was hilariously attractive, which was what she figured he was going for and her smile radiated.
“That’s all I wanted,” he said with a grin. “To see you smile like that again,” he explained, bringing her in toward him. “Hear you speak more than a sentence,” he added, his heart breaking.
She crumbled a little and came against his chest.
She was always amazed at how warm he was. His powers were ice, but his skin still held warmth, especially if she was near. “Thank you again for the tree,” she whispered, and when she did, more silent tears leaked out.
He pulled back a little, looking down into her big green eyes, and thumbing her tears away. “Of course,” he breathed.
She forced a diminutive smile, and reached up, running her fingers through the bits of hair poking out from under the white fur brim of the santa hat. He closed his eyes at her feather touch, feeling the tension coming between them, and warring with the ideas that it brought. She loved him. He loved her. This wasn’t the right time. He needed her. This wasn’t the right time. Screw the right time, he lifted her a little, and paused. She came the rest of the way, pressing her lips to his. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but she could still feel his heart speed up with desire. It did the same for her, but she barely reacted to it. “Merry Christmas, Austin,” she whispered, gently wiping away tears.
She wandered away from him a little, and the look on her face looked like guilt. She was betraying Vincent again.
His eyes also welled as he recognized the look on her face for what it was. He couldn’t say, “no, you’re not.” Any response like that was not inappropriate, but rude. She had the right to feel however she needed to feel, despite that the fact that Vincent was gone.
She looked around her; he was gone, but his ghost still lingered.
She knew that Austin couldn’t have asked for more this Christmas than the taste of her lips, which he’d gotten. It was all that he wanted. But now she was in turmoil.
He went to her, “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It was just a kiss,” she said, trying to be dismissive; her tone betrayed her, and he could hear her strangled sobs.
“You have the right to feel how you feel, Marielle.”
“I know,” she said, still blindly wandering away from him.
He took her wrist gently, and pulled her back to him, “Marielle. Darling,” he breathed. She melted, crumbling. “I’m not pushing you. I’m just here for you, okay?” She nodded, soaking his bare skin with her tears. “Your confusion is okay,” he whispered, combing through her hair, “your love for him is okay.” She continued her unending sobs. “Your unsettled feelings towards him are okay.” He squeezed her until he felt she’d break. “He loved you,” he said. “He loved you.” She continued to cry. “What do you want?” he asked. He shook his head, pulling back to look at her. She couldn’t even meet eyes with him. “What do you need?”
Finally she quieted a little. “This is fine,” she said trying to put a smile into her words. There was a hint of one, but it was cracking.
But the moment that she looked at the dining room table, she crumbled again. In her mind, she was raising a glass of wine to Vincent and whispering, “to you.” If only she could have seen the future when she’d done this the first time.
He nodded, realizing exactly what was happening. “We’ll eat in the living room,” he breathed, tears falling from his eyes as well. “And I’ll put on the fireplace, and we’ll watch It’s a Wonderful Life, okay?” he explained. She nodded. Things that had less to do with Vincent, and more to do with the two of them. “Are you gonna eat for me?” he asked after a moment. She shrugged. “Whatever you want, Marielle.”
She paused, and again, her fingertips found his hair, “I love you, Austin Rancor…” she said. And maybe it was the first time that he’d ever heard her say it where she truly meant that she loved him… not I love you as a mate / lover. She meant; I adore you the person. You’re a good person.
He gave her a soft smile on the left side of his handsome mouth, and drew her gently to him. “I love you too, darling.” He meant it the same way. “I’m just here. No pressure,” he reiterated. “Whatever you want.”
“I- I miss him,” she broke, again.
He rolled his lips in for a moment, and nodded. “So do I,” he admitted. She was crying again. He didn’t care that the stuffing might be unsalvageable at this point. “You didn’t deserve this, Marielle. You didn’t deserve any of this.” He shook his head and backed away. “I’ll go get a shirt on,” he whispered, starting for her bathroom.
She grabbed his wrist, turning him back to her. “Maybe…” she tried to force a smile. “Maybe stay that way?” Again, an attempt at smiling crossed her expression.
He grinned and a laugh burst through his tears. She liked looking at him. He nodded. “Whatever you want,” he said again.
And he went to put the fireplace on.
She picked at her food in silence, and quietly sobbed several times during the movie. He held her hand through all of it. Then he gave her her present. “I didn’t get you anything,” she whispered.
“You gave me everything a few minutes ago.”
She opened the box slowly, like she couldn’t remember how to do it. Inside was a simple silver chain with a silver heart locket on it. She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Put whatever you want inside.”
It was dark now, and after a little while he could no longer resist the pull of the piano. He went to it, rested his cheek against the top, and leaned over the keys as if protecting them, and gently played a tuneless melody.
He’d been strong for her for several days, but in this moment, he removed the Santa hat and quietly cried. His mind wandered as he thoughtlessly plucked out the first few notes of “Touch” by Sleeping at Last.
The room teemed with memories, and Marielle’s breath caught in her throat.
At first, Austin felt like he was stupid for having made the mistake of playing that song. That’s what he had played the night that she first made love to Vincent at the Announcement. He was preparing to apologize when she parted her lips. “Austin?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Play all of it?” She paused. “And sing?”
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat, “okay.”
Marielle sat silently, staring at the wall, and listening to Austin’s pure, perfect, sultry voice. She was inside somewhere, trying to find herself, or Vincent, or anything… and all that she could find was a deep, black hole.
Austin had found enough of his stuffed enough of his emotions and found the courage to open, and sing by this point. But as he played, he glanced at the corner behind the couch where Vincent’s violin still lay against the wall. It was one of the only things that he hadn’t tucked away somewhere, and Marielle could see the ache well within him. Missing the violin… Missing Vincent. Missed wasn’t the correct word. The absence wasn’t missed… it was unacceptable. This song required a violinist, and Vincent was gone.
Marielle felt nothing still. She was acutely aware of the fact that there were tears rolling down her pale cheeks, but there was nothing else happening within her, nor without.
He paused, perhaps considering what the last few words of this song would mean to Marielle before he let them slip out.
Her arms hadn’t lit up any time recently; hadn’t shimmered because Vincent was gone and their lack of response proved it. He was dead. He wasn’t lingering somewhere watching them, or waiting to come back into her life.
Silently, Austin came and sat beside her again, “You need to drink more, Marielle,” he whispered after about a minute of silence, which seemed like forever. She didn’t respond. He could see her wipe away another tear, and tug the blanket further back up her shoulders.
She felt as though she was standing above his gravestone. The words “My turn…” carved into her memory and her mind for all eternity and never moving; never fading. Just stuck. Was this what dying felt like? Stuck? Maybe she had died with Vincent. She wasn’t sure, she’d never died before.
She wasn’t even aware how she’d gotten into bed, although she knew instinctively that Austin must have carried her there. He was tucking her into his body as her thoughts became clearer again. But shortly after that, sleep found her or she found sleep, she wasn’t sure who was chasing who in that scenario.
Austin had a therapy appointment the next day, and left for about two hours, but Marielle went to the kitchen and made some food for the first time since Vincent had left them.
She found that she was a little more alert and clearer headed. She showered, she fed Felix, she ate her oatmeal and drank some coffee. None of it felt real or right, but she did each thing one step at a time.
However, after the meal she was exhausted again and took herself back to the bed. “One step at a time,” she whispered. Then she looked down at her left hand. The ring was sparkling there and she gently removed it from her finger and mindlessly tucked it into the drawer in the top of her nightstand. “One day at a time.” But she wasn’t sure what she was moving toward at all. Normal life again? What was normal? What did she really want? If the night before had been any indication, she wanted Austin. But more than that, in this moment, she wanted to feel something other than the pain swirling the core of her body, and the numbness that constantly plagued her mind.
She fell asleep trying to think of anything other than Vincent and his lack of being there.
Austin woke her up around dinner time and told her to get up and drink. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “I saw that you made food and it looks like you ate it.”
She sat up and smiled tiredly. “I did.”
He handed her a bottle of water. “Drink this.” She obeyed. “I want to get you out for a while, can you do that?” he asked. She nodded, and he took her for a drive to the beach. They walked along the pier, trying to do anything and everything that had nothing to do with Vincent and more to do with the two of them.
She knew that this was what he was doing, and she was grateful. She was starting to have longer periods of time where Vincent wasn’t slamming into the front of her skull twenty-four seven.
He glanced down at her left hand and laced their fingers together, noticing that she wasn’t wearing the engagement ring anymore. He said nothing.
“Cinnamon latte?” he asked.
She nodded. He guided her into the coffee shop, and Janice smiled at them both. Marielle couldn’t help but smile back. Janice’s hair was green now for the holidays, and red and white candy cane make up was around her big eyes.
They sat in their previous spot in the back and sipped quietly. Marielle drank the entire thing and Austin smiled at her. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, adoringly.
Her eyes welled feeling that weird war within herself again. Was it okay to feel good? Was it okay to have a feeling other than grief or exhaustion? Austin reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing. “You can feel joy,” he assured. “It’s okay. You’re not betraying Vincent. In fact, he’d want you to be happy.”
She nodded, closing her eyes as the tears fell and quickly wiped them away. “I know. It’s one of the reasons that it hurts,” she replied through tears. Her cheeks had more color and her face expression was a little more connected to what was happening around them. She looked at him and smiled, sniffling back her tears. “Do you want to go stand under the pier?” she asked.
He smirked. “Yeah.”
She found herself in his arms, in the darkness; the sound of the waves crashing mere feet away from them. The cold air nipping at both as they squeezed more tightly. He couldn’t read her thoughts anymore, but internally he was hearing her voice say. My Austin, my Austin…my Austin.
His fingertips were gently grazing her right ear, his thumb moving down her lobe. “I’ll dream for both of us, darling,” he whispered.
She nodded into his chest. “Take me home.”
He did. She knew that he wouldn’t push her any further tonight. He took her out, she agreed to go, and she was out and almost normal for over an hour. That was improvement.
At home, they stared at the fireplace together, fingers intertwined.
“Austin…” she barely whispered in the dim light. He lifted his head from the back of the couch and looked at her. Somehow, he knew what she was about to say and he bristled, then stiffened, preparing. “You told me early on that if I ever asked or showed you any desire, you’d sleep with me.” His breath caught in his throat, and he was frozen. “Let’s do it.” He couldn’t find air. She finally looked at him, turning her entire head. Her eyes were red; the veins obvious. She was still beautiful, but she looked dead, pale, and cracked. “Make love to me, Austin,” she whispered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
He made a sound that – to Marielle – sounded like the earth shattering, as he looked down into his empty hands. Then he stood, and bent hovering over her for a moment, his eyes swirling with several emotions that she couldn’t read, and a few that she could. For some reason, he was pissed; that one she could read quite well.
He stooped down, and in one motion, he picked her up like a husband carries his bride, and pulled her against him. She had always been small but right now, she was like a child in his arms; a doll, lifeless, and pliable. Too pliable, too vulnerable, so tempting.
He walked her to her bedroom, lay her gently on the bed, and pulled her blankets up around her before bending to her, looking her in the eye, and shaking his head. “There are…” he stopped himself for a moment, “so many reasons for why that would be wrong right now… and I… I just love you too damn much,” he explained bending and kissing her forehead. “I know you want to feel something. But you’d regret this later,” he whispered. Then he sat back.
“Don’t leave me?” she pleaded, grabbing his wrist, and forcing him to stay.
He was halfway off the bed, one foot on the floor, “Masin…” he said, and that made her insides twist and knot with emotional pain that was far too horrible to bear, and the floodgates began to open, as tears began to fall, unbidden. He turned back to her for a moment, “Masin,” he whispered. “I have to leave now before I do something that I’ll regret forever.”
She whimpered, refusing to let of his wrist, “But, Austin… I want you,” she pleaded.
His eyes fluttered and closed, a small sound escaping his lips. How he’d longed to hear her beg him like this. “No… you want to feel something more than what you feel right now.”
She was crying. “I want you,” she insisted, refusing to let his wrist go.
He pulled her hand off him. “No, listen to me… Hush, and listen to me!” He squeezed the side of her face, a battle in his hands and mind warring to pull her closer and push her farther away. “I want you so badly right now… But I want you to choose me. I want you to be clear headed and choose me. Because I love you. Because you want me, Marielle. Not my body, but my all of me including my body which I have every plan of giving you someday. But it’s not going to be tonight. That would just be… so wrong now.” He got up, hating himself because that was his moment. That was his opportunity to take what he’d craved for so long. Had it been longer than some men? No. He’d seen stories and was even sure that throughout history there had been numerous people who had waited for years, decades for the one they loved… but this yearning was a fire that had only continued to grow in him. He knew with certainty that if she simply said, “wait…” he’d do it. He’d wait for years. Because he loved her, and she was worth waiting for. “You’re not ready for this,” he whispered.
She was sobbing now, embarrassed, and full of need. “But I want you,” she insisted, and the desperation in her voice made his eyes roll back into his head. He knew that she did. He’d always seen it in her eyes, he’d always heard it in her voice when it came out laced with desire. He’d felt it when he was close and their connection only grew. But her saying it… admitting it… hearing the desperation in her tone… it sent shockwaves up his legs, making his knees weak. Time to decide what kind of man you are… He took in a shaky breath. “No.”
He backed away, putting the stamp on the decision before mailing it. No.
Would he regret it later? Probably. But not for the right reasons- and that’s what made him stand firm in his resolve. He’d regret not feeling the pleasure of her body.
But taking advantage of her when she was vulnerable, weak, and suffering? He wouldn’t regret not doing that. “This isn’t what you really want,” he whispered.
He’d go back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. That would take his mind away from the need pumping through him right now.
Once he was outside her room, he closed the door, leaned on it. He tapped the back of his head against the door three or four times telling himself repeatedly that he was not going back in there.
His resolve was strong, and perfect. His desire? Not so much. Still, he didn’t move.
This particular part of him had always been difficult to contend with; his one major weakness, trained, controlled…addict? Sexual addict… Yup. It had nearly been the death of him a few times. He wasn’t going to let it win tonight. Tomorrow night? Nope. Not then either.
He snapped the finger on both hands quickly a few times, and stared down the hall. Felix came and rubbed himself along Austin’s legs and he smiled, picked the cat up, cuddled it, and set him back down where he licked his lips, showing his large teeth. “You need food,” he whispered, and he followed the kitty into the kitchen, resolving to sleep on the couch. It hurt; he wanted to be holding her. He could hear her cry. He covered his face with a pillow to stifle the sounds. No. He wasn’t going back in there.
The next day she was distant again. Embarrassed and self-conscious over her pleading the night before and Austin was kicking himself for his resolve not because it wasn’t the right thing to do, but because he was wondering what would have happened if he’d just done so. Would he have broken this curse over her now?
He poured her coffee, and sighed. He’d never know. He wasn’t going to do that to her right now.
But now he was more aware than ever that the clock was laughing at him again.
He was leaving tomorrow, and he had to go home and pack and when he came back, she was distant and in her little world again.
He stood in her bathroom for a long time under a hot shower and cried. She wasn’t coming with him. She couldn’t. He couldn’t blame her. Once again, they just needed more time, and they just didn’t have it.
He made arrangements with Sabine, she’d come and take care of Marielle, and switch up with Han when Han got back from seeing her family with Jamie for at least the next month.
Austin held her one last night in his arms and calmed one last nightmare before the sun rose and mocked him for his dreams, his desires, his plans.
His plane left at six PM, and he had to keep packing and preparing.
He gave her coffee, and sat with her at the kitchen table. “Marielle, you know I’m leaving tonight,” he said, flatly.
“I know,” she said, distantly. Then she was gone again.
He thought about all of the things that he could say. The words he could use, the begging he could do. But none of it would work right now. “I’ll miss you so much,” he said instead.
“I’ll miss you, too,” she replied, sipping the coffee.
Then she went to bed again, and slept. He desperately wanted to wake her up, if for nothing more, than to just be with her before he had to leave, but he shook his head, telling himself no. Let her sleep… maybe it’s better there. Maybe she’s with Vincent and she’s okay in her dreams.
When five o’clock rolled around he realized that he was out of time, and he went into her bedroom and leaned over her, taking in her small frame and the lovely shapes that it made. Even in grief, she was still so lovely.
“Marielle,” he whispered, leaning down to her, his heart physically hurt. He rubbed his chest for a moment, “Marielle. I have to leave,” he breathed. She said nothing, just continued to stare… her resolve somewhere in the back of her mind, unyielding.
She couldn’t remember why she was waiting, but she was.
He tried reaching out. -Here? It was noise, static, no use. -Darling. He pleaded. Nothing still. He glanced at the clock… why was that thing always laughing at him? Why couldn’t he have stayed dead? He was about to be late. -Marielle… Masin… Don’t let him steal this, too. No answer. She was still gone. He sat back, nodding as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, trying to resolve himself to this fate. He took a moment, “thank you for being…” his words stuck in his throat for a moment, “the best friend that I’ve ever had. An amazing partner in everything… The most perfect lover,-” he thought that his choice of the word was ironic considering that they’d never actually had sex, “-and the love of my life,” he said brokenly, before leaning in and kissing her cheek. “I love you…” he whispered, lingering there. The word, “wife…” barely came out at the end and strangled before he stood quickly and went out.
She blinked once or twice, and turned, watching him leave as silent tears leaked out. But she didn’t go after him. “I love you, too,” she breathed, unable to feel anything else at all. He didn’t hear her, he was already out the door.
He sat in his car for a moment, realizing that once again, he was fully and entirely alone.
A surge of physical anxiety slammed into the pit of his stomach and he grabbed the steering wheel, strangling it with his fist and gently rocking, as he bit back the tears that he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop, now.
Trying one last time, he mentally reached out… there was nothing there. She was just upstairs; just twenty yards away, give or take, but she was gone. He felt the tension, the separation and he pushed again, trying to stretch the range… maybe he could keep her. Maybe he could take her with him somehow. Maybe if he pushed hard enough, or…-Darling? He winced… nothing. “Marielle,” he whispered through the soft cries that finally made themselves known. –Darling, just come with me. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe. You can be my back up. You want this, I know that you do.
Glancing left, he saw a shadow under the lamppost; a figure leaning against it. He could see the blue vest, the tie, he put his face to the steering wheel as he sobbed for a moment. Failure flooding him. Chamber was just waiting for him to leave before he went in to offer himself to her and she’d take him, wouldn’t she? Of course, she would… wasn’t that always what this had been about? She wanted Vincent. Not him. He wasn’t the man you took home to mom and dad. He wasn’t the man you made a life with. He wasn’t the man you had a son or daughter with.
He strangled the steering wheel even more, wishing it was his own neck… –But I want to be! He cried. –But only with you…
“Just come with me… I’ll wait,” he begged. “I’ll wait… I have a few minutes. You can pack. I’ll buy you everything you need.”
His cheeks grew wetter, and his eyes stung from it. She couldn’t hear him, and he continued to feel the strings of their connection broken and in pieces. It felt like someone was operating on his mind and there had been no anesthetic, no drugs or alcohol to ease the pain. “I’ll wait,” he breathed one last time as he sat back and looked down at his left hand; the ring. It was hers. It was for her! He was hers. Always.
He twisted it, for a moment resenting it and wanting to tear it from his finger and throw it across the street at Chamber’s feet. Something stopped him as he watched the clock turn over to the next minute… then the next. He lifted his cell phone. Just text her… just call her… just beg her. No, that was pushing. He wasn’t going to push her anymore. This had to be fully her decision.
-Marielle…darling… please…
No answer. He straightened his back and nodded. “Okay,” he barely got out, accepting, painfully. He gave her building one last glance. “Ti amo più di ogni altra cosa…” Then he wiped his tears, started the car, and began to drive away.
He stopped near Chamber, and rolled the window down. He was silent for a moment, Chamber didn’t move. “Love her with everything in yourself.” He looked to him. “Nothing short of that will do.” Chamber nodded once. Austin swallowed. “Was this the deal? You get Marielle?” Chamber nodded again. Austin shook his head. Of course, it was. He dragged both hands down his face, clearing another wave of tears. “I’m going to Hong Kong… I’m assuming I’ll see you there at some point?”
Chamber took one step forward, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, “You will,” he said, flatly.
His mind hurt… that probably meant that he’d see her, too at some point.
Austin stuck his hand out and Chamber took it, shaking firmly. Then without meeting eyes with him again, Austin drove to the airport. He didn’t shed anymore tears during the drive; he was numb- the whole way only glancing from time to time at the ring.