Next to the stack there’s a piece of paper that says, Halloween kites: 240, and then he’s kept a count and he only has ten more to go before trick-or-treating on Monday.
He’s giving these out for Halloween?
Each of these had to have taken hours to make. I remember back to him telling me that he makes kites.
Amazing kites.
My phone buzzes in my purse on the couch and I look down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door still closed.
Eliza: I’m freaking the fuck out. Please let me know you’re okay. I’m calling the police in five minutes.
Meg: I’m okay. Can you come get me, please?
Eliza: Thank God. Okay, I’ll leave in just a few minutes. Text your address.
I send the address off a magazine label on the table. I drag myself away from the table and walk to Henry’s bag.
It’s just a USB flash drive. It’s just a small item. He probably will think he lost it.
But I’ll always know the truth.
He doesn’t have my phone number and finding me won’t happen. I usually go by Megan Harris since that’s what it says on my I.D. Devlin is my maiden name. Harris is the second to last jerk that I let into my life.
Vegas should be closed down. Or at least the chapels.
Just another mistake that I can’t say I want on my resume of the worst of the worst.
I grab his bag and unzip the flap, flashing my phone light inside. And it catches on something metal at the bottom.
I dig my hand inside and pull the small thumbdrive out.
“I hope you’re the one.” I slip it into my purse and hear Henry wrestle down the hall and I still.
Last night I didn’t only give my body over to Henry, and the man is a god in bed, but I handed over something deeper inside of me. He touched it. Whether with his sexcalibur of a cock or the way he would slow the action to draw out what was happening, trying to torture me and tantalize me into almost a comatose state of orgasmic oblivion. Or with his gentle touch, and kind words, making me more connected to him in a way that I’ve never felt before.
But all good things must come to an end.
I find a piece of paper and write out a few words. Generic. Simple. Nothing of what I’m feeling because he doesn’t need to know those.
And I don’t need to acknowledge them.
And then I crumple the piece of paper up and throw it in the garbage can next to the kites.
How could he ever forgive me for what I’m going to do?
He’s the light antithesis of my dark soul.
There’s a clear answer.
He wouldn’t.
Henry
I stretch in the bed, remembering last night. I sit up quickly and the room is silent.
“Meg?” I flip back the sheets and grab my boxer briefs and head out to the living room. “Meg?”
I round the corner and there she is sitting in the chair, her head in her hands.
I drop to my knees in front of her, but I don’t touch her. “Meg? Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”
When her head rises those amethyst eyes sparkle in the morning sun rays sneaking through the curtains.
I thumb away her tears. “What’s going on?”
“The truth of what a shitshow my life is just became too much. The bucket spilled over.”
I cup the back of her head while she lightly sobs. “What can I do to help?”
She stiffens in my arms. “Nothing. This is my shitshow to fix.”
“Would pancakes make it any better?”
“Chocolate chip ones would.”
I chuckle. “Done.” I back away. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”
I truly believe that. There is no mountain too high, no goal too lofty, and no problem too hopeless that we can’t overcome it. And I need to let her know the truth.
“Meg, I know this will sound crazy, but…I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same without you.”
She rolls her lips in and her eyes close. “No. You don’t want me, Henry. I’m not who you want or deserve.” She pushes to stand.
“Let’s just have some—”
“No, it’s better if I just go.”
I step in front of her as she starts for the door. “I take it back.” My heart jumps into my throat.
“Please don’t.” She stops. “For the first time in a long time I started to feel again.” Her eyes glance to the dining table. “You’ve helped me see who I want to be, but it’s time I face the music and I have to do that by myself.”
She grabs her purse.
“At least let me call you a cab.” I sold my car when I moved into the city and now I’m cursing myself out for doing it.
“I have a ride coming. I’ll be okay.”
I don’t believe her. She’s not okay and…
I won’t be either.
7
Meg
I climb into Eliza’s car and when I give her the “just don’t” look, she says nothing. It takes me time to collect my thoughts, and after all the years we’ve been friends, she’ll give me space.
Until she doesn’t.
I pull out the infamous stick. Apparently on this tiny USB drive is what Hayden needs.
I text him.
Meg: I have the USB drive. Meet me at 1 p.m., State Street and Vine, the Dirty Chai Coffeeshop there on the corner.
Hayden: Good girl.
Meg: Fuck you.
Hayden: You name the time and place.
Meg: Not even in your dreams.
I swear I can hear his dark chuckle through the phone.
Eliza grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing.”
At a stoplight she turns to me. “Meg, come on. I can tell when you’re hurting. You deny everything. You hide everything. And you say nothing. You’ve got clear defense mechanisms that even a trained psychologist would. find unsettling. If you don’t start facing the truth, you’re going to crash soon.”
I already did.
“What’s done is done.”
“And then there’s that. Things can always be undone, Meg. Your fatalistic views of life will eat away your hope of the future.”
“I fell for Henry. Is that what you want to hear?”
She pulls the car over and shoves it into park. “Then why are you here?”
“He’s got his life in order, and we both know what chaos I bring. Plus, your career is on the line.”
“No. Those other men were the chaos. You were just living in the storm of their bullshit. You deserve to be happy, too.” Her hand slips over mine and she squeezes. “If you care about him, then tell him the truth. I enjoy what I do, but I love you and I want to see you happy, Meg.”
My stomach drops out and I squeeze her hand back.
“But the truth is complicated.”
She blows out a long breath with puffed cheeks, either frustration or acknowledgement, or a little of both. “But it’s wonderful to have someone to love by your side. That’s not complicated.”
I sit in the coffeehouse, my drink getting cold. I should’ve known that Hayden would make me wait.
He walks in. His cocky attitude practically oozes and drenches me in his creepiness. He avoids the coffee line and stands with a hand held out at me.