Layers (35 page)

I swallow the contents in my mouth, hard.
Am I ready for that?
Ian nods reassuringly as though reading my deepest thoughts.

“I’m going to start,” Tasha begins, brushing her bangs to one side. “Just so you know, Daniel isn’t taking it any easier than you are.”

How does she know?
I look at her, anxiously waiting for her to resume, thirsty for any information about him.

“Intimidating Mr. Stark turned into Terrifying Mr. Stark; he fired four people in the last three days. He has less than zero tolerance.”

I observe her, irresistibly swallowing every piece of information coming out of her mouth. “I’ve talked to people who had the pleasure of being in a meeting with him and the horrors they survived to tell.” She twists her mouth.

“His PA cried more than once, and some people avoid taking the elevator just not to run into him.” She shakes her head judgmentally.

I shake off the thought, regardless of what happened. I hate to think of him in anger or pain.

“And Hales, he looks awful. Well, just like you do,” she coils her mouth to a thin, bitter smile.

“Thanks,” I murmur. I think about how I feel as if there’s a missing piece in my heart. I’m light years away from being remotely fine.

“Now my two cents,” Ian says. “A: You are going to work tomorrow, meaning you are going back to your life. B: As soon as you feel more coherent and less devastated you’re going to talk to him and try to get you both out of this mess.” He stares at me with a brotherly look, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Will I ever feel less devastated?” I look at Ian, gloomy.

“If nothing else will help I’ll convert for you, okay, gorgeous?” He strokes my hair warmly.

“Convert for me? My prince in shining couture?” I blink at Ian’s grin.

“All the way for you. We’ll even have eight drop-dead, gorgeous kids.”

I snort and giggle. “You’ll convert and we’ll both turn Amish?”

As always, Ian knows just what to say to make me laugh rather than dive into sorrow. But then a thought sneaks into my mind:
Did Daniel and I go our separate ways three days ago? Was that the last time he was mine?

“And due to this exact expression,” Ian points at my fallen face, “I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

I hug him tight, clinging to the security his hug covers me with.

“Gorgeous, you keep doing this, and I’ll end up pregnant.” He fakes a frown, and I can’t help but giggle.
Dork
.

Chapter 36: Like Sheep to the Slaughter

The first time I actually take a break from my PC is at lunch when Josh asks me whether I would like to join him for food.

“Maybe I’ll just join you on your way and grab something to bring back.”

“You can have a break you know,” he responds, wearing an authoritative mien.

“I know, boss, but I would much rather make up for the time I lost.”

He shrugs.

“Rain check?” I say with a forced smile.

The time flies by at work. By the end of the day I’ve accomplished half of my to-do list and can leave with at least a small feeling of satisfaction inside.

~~~

I decide on my way home in Daniel’s car that tonight is the night. I need to give him back his car and keys and most importantly I need to try to talk to him. The sooner, the better.
I am not sure how much of this pain I can keep carrying with me.

The next song playing from Daniel’s playlist fills my eyes with unbidden tears at the first few notes. Disturbed, I press the off button but the music doesn’t stop.
I can’t hear it. Shut up!
Stressed, somewhat shaky, I hit the button again and instead of killing it the volume pumps up. These words are like salt on my open wound. It’s the same song we listened to the last day in Baja just before retuning. The song that word for word expressed how we both felt. Finally, when I manage to stop the music, the tears are already pouring from my eyes, unstoppable, expending the soreness from my soul.

At home I do everything quickly and mechanically. I take a shower, dress up, put Daniel’s house key in my front pocket and hurry to the car, all to avoid losing the only shred of courage I still have left.

~~~

As I stare at the security cameras I am in a different state of mind, completely different than the times in the past when I stood on this same spot, elated and anxious. As before, anxiety overtakes me, but this time there’s the bitter taste of dread. I hope that he’s at home; at the squeaking sound of the parting gates, my hope becomes a reality, a reality that makes my heart beat frantically. I can hear my own thuds now and the closer I get the faster and louder they chant.

In a momentary glance at the rearview mirror I realize that I am wearing my pink spaghetti top, the same one I wore the first time I came here. The irony of this fact stings, and I hope this time won’t be a closure.

Far from being stable, I make my way slowly toward the house. He’s not there waiting for me like he always has before; the closed front door screams volumes. Though it seems like an eternity, it’s only a brief moment before Daniel opens the door. The air escapes my lungs at the sight of him.

“Hayley.” An emotionless voice compliments his clouded features and the coldness that broadcasting from every fiber of his posture. He seems to have been in the middle of a workout; he’s wearing his black sweat pants and the grey tank top. His hair, pulled back in a black hair band, juts out like it had the last time I saw him train not so long ago. Only something’s different: still sinfully handsome, he doesn’t look his natural vivid self. His eyes are bereft and dark, lacking the usual glee.

He doesn’t wait for me to talk; he states, “I’m in the middle of something here.”

The last thing he’ll do is make it easy for me.
“It won’t take too long,” I reassure, my voice fragile.

How can he be so harsh
? Instead of letting me in he steps forward to lean against the door, drawing a stronger line between us.

“How are you?” I begin, hesitant.

“To the point,” he snaps.

I search for his eyes but he doesn’t look directly at me, deliberately avoiding contact, adding pain to my already sick heart.

“Can I have a chance to explain my side?” I start.

“Why?” he asks, annoyed. It seems like he’s trying to mask his own anxiety.
You aren’t indifferent to me, Daniel. I can see you do still care.

“Isn’t there a statute of limitation on not hearing me out?” He twists his mouth and his stare tapers.

“Daniel, I did say all those things but not to the media, not to a reporter. I said them to my best friend and not as gossip, it was purely out of the deep feelings I have for you.” I blink, shifting slightly to regain stability as my legs start to betray me. He folds his arms on his chest, shutting me further out.

“I am not sure how it got to wherever it got, but my words were viciously taken out of context.”

He glances at me with an empty stare, his face revealing nothing.

“I am the same person I was a few days ago. Everything I said and did was real. How can you not see that?” There is a lump expanding wildly in my throat.

“Are you done?” His stare is glacial. “Is there anything else?” he asks quietly, too calm and low.

Did he not hear anything I just said?
There’s a deep ache in my stomach, and it intensifies with every passing moment.

“I also brought you back your car and your house keys.” For a moment he seems distracted, as though he forgot all about the keys and what they represented.
Yes, these same keys to your house that you gave me just a few days ago. How could he go from asking me to move in to being entirely cold toward me?

I take the keys out of my pocket and hand them to him. As he extends his hand I can see that it’s just as shaky as mine.
Why are you being so you? Why are you doing this, D?

“I guess this is goodbye?” I ask, feeling timid at the distance he projects.

“What do you want me to say?” he says, his jaw tightly clenched. He lowers his eyes to the floor.

This cannot be the person I fell in love with. This cannot be the same one. I shouldn’t be as surprised by his behavior as I am. I’ve seen it too many times before. But he’s never been this way with me, not even close.
I can’t prolong this any further; I start walking as hastily as my trembling body allows me toward the gate. He doesn’t make a move to stop me; he just stands there. That look is in his eyes again, a look that ravages my soul.

As the gate closes behind me, it hits me: he’s not mine anymore and will never be again. The one thing I dreaded by coming here has become a fact, leaving me without him.

Was I just a witness to Iris’ premonition? Is this what she meant then? “Don’t give up on him even when you feel you should.”
But I cannot. I just can’t. Not with him going out of his way to drive me away, to hurt me.

Dismayed at my own control of an unavoidable crying outburst, I suddenly realize there is something else burning within me other than the urge to cry. I feel a throbbing rage. I am furious to the core, mad at how he just treated me, mad that he not even once really stopped to listen, mad that he didn’t consider me innocent before declaring me guilty, mad he didn’t give me a chance, give us a chance. And just as I couldn’t wait to get there to see him, I can’t wait to get away.

It takes the taxi some time to arrive, giving me a while to reach the simple conclusion that I am as mad at him as I am in love with him.

Looking out the window and not really seeing the passing view I think about the fact that I left my scooter at his place, but the last thing I want to do is go back, not now, not anytime soon.

Chapter 37: Prince Harming

I don’t even manage to take my shoes off before I am fronted by two inquisitive faces. Immediately I start telling Tasha and Ian, who listen attentively, about the upsetting visit with what seems now to be my ex.

“I am so mad at him. But it doesn’t matter anyway, it’s over.” I conclude.

“I wouldn’t go and secure the gravestone on this love story just yet,” Ian says.

Both Tasha and I stare at Ian with our brows knit, exchanging uncertain looks between us like we have many times before, trying to understand what he means.

“Weren’t you present at the last fifteen minutes of the tale of ‘Prince Harming’?”

I snicker bitterly at Tasha’s most suitable nickname for Daniel.

“I most certainly was. I never miss anything that goes out of that gorgeous mouth,” Ian says defensively.

I send him a small, gratified smile, which is mirrored with an affectionate one.

“So, by all means enlighten me, Ian,” I plead.
Now I’m talking like Daniel? Urgh.

“You are so each other’s termites,” he casually states.

“I’m a termite now? And here I thought I was just plain, bitter single again,” I comment matter-of-factly. “Look who’s here,” Tasha declares, her voice a few octaves higher. “Miss Grace is back with us and she brought her cynicism with her.”

Amused, I roll my eyes. “You were saying, Darwin? Termites?”

Ian twists his mouth but before he can elaborate Tasha adds scornfully, “Yes, when I think of Mr. Stark, the first thing that pops to my mind is a termite.”

Tasha and I share a witchy smirk, and Ian shakes his head, impatient.

“Termites?” I say waiting for the crux of Ian’s grand theory.

“You’re like termites because they mate for life.” Nodding at his words, he continues. “You two will end up together. Even a nonromantic, coming of age, cynical gay guy can see that. It’ll take more than a quarrel for you to really split up.” He nods again and resumes, “Too deep, too emotional, too cosmic, too manic, too compatible. Just like a pair of gorgeous termites.”

Tasha rises for a standing ovation as I murmur, “Whatevs, Ian,” echoing his usual language. He flashes a cocky, knowing smile and I roll my eyes.

“Fine, well, we got your point. Now this termite’s friend would like to go out. Shall we?”

“I’m with Tasha,” I say.

“Some loyal termite you are,” she winks at me.

~~~

It’s only late that night after we return from clubbing and I am hidden deep under my covers that I let everything go. I am still utterly in love with him and I am mad at myself for not being more cautious talking about his personal life. I am as mad at him as I’ve ever been at anybody, for not trying, for turning his back on us as fast as he did. Most of all I hurt, deep inside, for the way he treated me, and because he let us, let me, go. And for the fourth cumulative night in a row, I fall asleep sobbing, strained sobs that have become the sound of my solitude.

Chapter 38: Too Little, Too Late

Casual Friday at work turns out to be casual, high-spirits Friday. Everyone seems to be in a good mood, especially when Josh takes all of our team to a happy hour lunch at a bar close by. I am positively surprised by the fact that throughout the entire time I spend with my colleagues I don’t feel down even once, not even when angry thoughts of Daniel invade my mind and threaten to derail me.

It’s only when we start walking back and a lady I hadn’t had the chance to be introduced to asks whether Daniel Stark is indeed my boyfriend that I get a twinge in my heart when I answer, “Not anymore.” The words sound so disturbingly infinite as they leave my mouth, making that lump that’s been traveling on and off my throat since the notorious post appeared online, swell up, provoking tears to prickle at the corners of my eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she replies, sizing me up. I feign a smile, shaking my head in dismissal. “Don’t worry, I’m over it,” I lie, appreciative of the fact that she doesn’t linger on the subject. Instead she voluntarily starts telling me about her recent honeymoon in which she and her new husband spent a month traveling through South America. I cling to every word as if they were the deepest secrets of the universe, just to avoid dwelling on my fury entwined gloom.