KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (55 page)

We’d fallen back into the bed, and he covered us up with blankets. We clung to each other like it really was the last time. My tears didn’t stop, and I think he shed a few, too, but I didn’t look to see. Still, I heard the shudder in his breath, felt the shake of his chest.

“I wish I would have known what you were thinking every day. If I would have known, it would have made a difference,” he cajoled into my hair from behind me. “I thought you gave up a long time ago.”

The sun was nearly up, and we’d been battling all night. Eventually, his breathing leveled off and the slow motion of his hand rubbing my belly subsided.

I pulled myself quietly out of his arms for the last time. I found the hotel notepad and a pen, then took it to the bathroom. I lowered the lid of the stool and sat there as I began to write.

Reagan,

I’ve tried so hard to fight how I feel for you—damn near the whole time. I told myself you deserved better but wasn’t confident enough that I could give you better.

Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me, those are the things I’ll remember.

Let’s forget the bad stuff. Let’s let go of the mistakes. I think we’re even now.

I hope you consider taking over my accounts, I desperately need the help and Price-McClelland has assured me you’ll have one hundred percent control. Like I said, I trust you. I know you’ll do a good job and look out for me. I’ve felt the shield of your protection before, and it was so peaceful.

I need some of that now—if only this way.

I know you’ll be professional. You always are.

You said you wished I would have told you more, and you’re right. I should have. It won’t change much, and it sounds a little crazy, but I did tell you every day. When I was sad and lonely. Those few times when I was happy and wished I had someone to share it with. You were always there. Even when you weren’t.

I created an email account after our Christmas and New Year’s holiday, way back when. In those days, when I was so lost, I did it to feel close to you. It worked. Even when we were fighting, I’d talk to you. Tell you how I felt.

All of it.

So at least, this way, you’ll know. You’ll have all of the information. Just how you like.

You’ll always be my favorite. Hopefully, our friendship is stronger than our love.

Nora

PS The account is [email protected]. The password is bear10987654321

I quietly washed in the sink and dressed. Then, I kissed his forehead and left the past in that room with him.

He didn’t wake up.

Reggie—Sunday, September 19, 2010

S
lowly, I woke up. When I realized she wasn’t there, I wondered if I’d dreamt the whole damn thing. All of it.

There was no going back. The past was just that. Salty water under the bridge.
History
.

I sat up in bed, ran a hand over my face, and looked at the clock.
Eleven
. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that late.

I was sure she’d left. Her suitcase was gone, and the room felt empty. Every room void of her did. They always would.

I showered, dressed, and met my parents for lunch before they left.

She wants you to work for her.

Could I do that?

The table was pretty quiet, my parents were clearly hungover, and my brother had already left.

“It was a beautiful wedding,” my mom said. “Did you get your work things taken care of last night, Reggie?”

My father looked at me, the pair of them waited on my answer. Unexpectedly, last night was somewhat work related. At least, it might be.

“Yeah, I did,” I said, but it felt like such a heavy answer.

Business and pleasure.

“You’re working too much, Son,” my father said, and his tone wasn’t that of someone who was all that particularly happy about it. “You need to slow down. You’re going to burn out at this rate. You have to enjoy life.”

“I know,” I replied and put my napkin on my plate, resigned.

“No,” he deadpanned. “I don’t think you do.” My mother’s hand found my dad’s on the table, and she gave it a squeeze in solidarity. “You don’t think we see what’s going on with you? How you’ve changed? Because we have.”

I leaned forward and put my head in my hands.

You can have it all.

“You need love in your life, Reagan.” I was zoned out, but he rarely called me that. “Reagan, damn it. Look at me.” It was uncanny, that tone. I sounded much like him when I spoke that way. It demanded my attention, and I lifted my weary gaze to him.

When he was satisfied with my attention, he continued, “It’s a damn shame that you’re like this. Successful. Smart. Every parent wants that for their children, but you’re really missing out. You’re alone, Reggie. And you’ll stay that way unless you make some changes. You’ll miss out on all color, all of the joy in life, if you only focus on work and wealth. It doesn’t matter how much you make, you’ll end up poor. You have to find someone to share with, kid. Not just one way either. You tend to want to be the only one giving. You have to let people share
with
you. That’s when you’re winning. That’s when you have it all.”

Fuck, if he wasn’t right, but how did I fix it? There was so much damage.

“You don’t think I know that?” I asked. “It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?” He kissed my mom’s hand, and they looked at me resolutely. “You don’t have to be in control of everything, Reggie. Cleaning up the messes is the exciting part. That’s when you actually learn from your mistakes.”

I didn’t know if there was a way to clean it up.

“I’ll try, Dad.” That’s all I could promise. I just wasn’t sure how anymore.

“Then do it.”

I drove them to the airport and returned my rental car. We hugged after security and went our separate ways, but his words were growing louder and louder in my head.

I relived nearly every minute of the past twenty-four hours on the flight back to Chicago.

She trusted me.

She loved me. What good is past-tense love?

When I was in my condo, it felt like I was walking past every memory I’d had with her there. The fights. The laughter. The passion. The talking. My roommate, emptiness, was still there.

I took my clothes out of my luggage and set aside the ones that I’d have dry-cleaned, and felt a rustle of paper in my tuxedo pants from the wedding. I opened it and saw her handwriting.

I read it.

Then, I reread it.

I lay it on the bed as I put things away and thought.

She’s telling me what she wants.

When I got to work the next day, they were going to hand me the biggest account of my life—maybe the biggest one our company managed. I’d be promoted. Along with that would come perks and new benefits. More money. A better office.

It was all I’d ever wanted.

The ironic part about it was, I’d get it all because of her. I’d thought having a woman would make me look more responsible to them. Yet, here it was the one I’d lost who got me to the goal.

This was what she wanted in very plain, beautiful script on hotel stationary.

I looked at the account and password she’d added to the bottom.

Did I want to know? It twisted inside of me.

I pulled my laptop out of its bag and sat back on the bed. I knew their website from previous investigations and went to the company’s employee email. As I typed in the nicknames she’d once given me, and a password that was almost too much for me to comprehend, I sat there a minute before I hit the submit option.

Reggie, you both said it was over. What can you gain from this?

I couldn’t resist though and clicked to open the account.

Four hundred and eighty emails. Never opened.

I leaned back against my headboard, a wave of some indescribable feeling hit me like a gale force wind. My eyes scrolled through pages and pages of subjects for unread messages. I clicked all the way to the beginning and found the first one.

It was nearly two years old.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
Fuck you

Date:
February 1, 2009 17:33 CET

To:
Jekyll-Hyde Warren

Sometimes I’m fucking mad at you. Why didn’t you fight for me? You fought about everything else, you asshole. Why don’t you call?

I hate you. I should have never taken a cab with you, you bossy prick. How could it really end like this?

Nora

God, she thought
that
was the end? All those days ago? My mind raced through the months after our New Year’s Day fall-out. The things I’d done, the ways she’d gotten back at me, which only caused me to retaliate harder.

I ran a hand through my hair, pulling it, and groaned.

What the fuck?

I wasn’t sure I could read them. I’d only opened one, and already the gates to memory lane had opened.

I shut my computer. If the past was the past, I’d leave it there.

Sleeping was awful that night. At about one in the morning, I walked to the kitchen, drank milk from the carton, and then fell asleep in a chair in the front room.

“Good morning, Reggie,” Claudia sang. Ever pleasant. Ever happy.

“Good morning. How was your weekend?” I asked, stopped in front of her desk.

“It was great. We didn’t do much though. I took Friday off since you weren’t here, and Ted and I spent a long weekend at home, watching movies and playing with the girls.”

She was a receptionist, and she had it all. It showed on her face.

“That’s good.” I smiled. “Did I miss anything?”

She clicked the mouse beside her keyboard. “Doesn’t look like it. I only see a reminder in here that you’re to go up to Mr. McClelland’s office when you get in.” Her eyes flared. Surely she was expecting it was something good. She knew how hard I’d worked.

“Yeah, I remember. Thank you. I’ll put my things down, then head that way.”

“All righty,” she replied and winked. “I’ll let them know you’ll be up. Go get ‘em, boss.”

I wasn’t the least bit nervous. I didn’t have much to lose anymore.

The ride up three floors, where all of the titles had their offices, was quick. I’d been there many times. Soon, I’d have an office there with them. With the senior partners. I’d be one of the elite.

It didn’t feel that different. It was dull compared to the way I’d always imagined it.

The moment didn’t hold a candle to the ones that were running through my mind of Nora. The first time we made eye contact across the party at the Harbor. The first time
we
kissed. The first time
we
had sex. The first time
we
slept together in my bed.
Our
first date.
Our
first trip.
Our
first Christmas.

Walking toward the big oak doors of McClelland’s office, I realized I didn’t feel powerful at all. Not without her.

“Good morning,” his receptionist said. “Mr. McClelland is expecting you Mr. Warren. Please, go on in.”