I catch sight of an envelope next to a note on the counter and a couple of black keys. I pick up the note from the Porsche dealership and realize the keys belong to my new car.
Glancing around me, ensuring I'm alone, I pick them up, carefully open the door to the garage, and race to the Porsche. Quickly sliding behind the wheel, I start the car, back it out of the garage, and punch it into first gear, making my way down the driveway. As soon as the front gate is in sight, I hit the remote and scream through, quickly closing it behind me.
I am on autopilot as I head toward town. My townhouse is still under construction, and I refuse to drag my problems in full view of the rumor mill at the office. They've had enough of my dirty laundry to keep them whispering and happy for a while. Taking the next exit, I hop on I-95 north to Ryan and Paul in New York City.
My cell phone starts ringing from the passenger seat. Not surprisingly, the caller ID indicates it's Alex. I hit decline and toss it back on the seat. His persistence over the next ten minutes irritates me enough that I finally turn off the phone and turn up the volume on the stereo to near inhumane levels.
I try to comprehend all the information Alex just spewed at me. He doesn't love me. It seems so incomprehensible. I know I felt it. We were moving together, falling in love. Could I have been that wrong? Did I just want to believe it so badly I saw what I wanted to see?
The fact that Alex doesn't love me now is not nearly as heart-wrenching as the admission he will never love me. Tears sting my eyes and begin to fall. So, this is it. This is the piano falling.
I am desperately in love with him, but I will never have that love in return. I'm doomed to be in a relationship where I will never feel love. How do I do this? Can I do this? The thought of never being with him again, of living my life without him, nearly rips my heart out of my chest.
I make my way through the city to the Upper East Side and pull in front of the building where Paul and Ryan live. The valet races out, and I give him Paul's name and apartment number before he hands me a claim ticket.
Ronnie, the doorman, greets me, "Nice to see you again, Miss Tate. It's been a while."
I'm constantly amazed at how this man, who only sees me a few times a year, always remembers me.
"Congratulations on winning your big case," he adds.
I smile at him. "Thanks, Ronnie. It's really nice to see you, too." I pass through the lobby to the security desk and give the uniformed guard my name.
"You may go on up, Ms. Tate," the guard announces, handing my driver's license back to me.
I nod and walk to the elevators, hoping someone is home since I haven't given any advanced notice of my visit. I cannot bear turning my cell phone back on, afraid I would give in and answer Alex's call and then allow him to talk me into coming back.
I knock on the apartment door, and it's opened immediately.
Ryan looks at me but doesn't appear at all surprised to see me. His cell phone to his ear, he announces, "She's here," as he lets me in.
He hands the cell phone to me. "It's Alex."
I shake my head. I'm not ready to talk to him yet.
Ryan covers the phone. "He's worried, K. Just let him know you're all right. He needs to hear your voice. He deserves that much."
I take the phone as Ryan closes the door and walks into the kitchen, giving me some privacy.
"Hello?" I answer, trying to control the sudden shakiness in my voice.
"Thank God," Alex exhales. "Are you okay?"
No! "I'm safe, Alex." But far from okay.
"When are you coming home?" His voice is meek and childlike.
Tears well up again and run down the already established paths on my face. "I don't know, Alex. I need time to sort this out."
"Please don't shut me out, Kylie."
My heart is aching, and I just want to drop to the floor and curl into a ball. I love him so much, and right now, it physically hurts to breathe.
"I have to go, Alex. I can't talk right now." My voice is barely a whisper as my cries choke me.
"Okay," he acquiesces, but he sounds completely defeated. "Please promise me you won't go anywhere without Ryan or Paul. It's still not safe, Kylie."
"I promise. Good-bye, Alex." A soft sob escapes my throat.
"God, Kylie..." Alex remains quiet for a moment and then whispers, "Bye, baby."
Walking into the kitchen, I hand Ryan his cell phone before collapsing into his arms, sobbing.
I spend the night retelling the events of the past couple of weeks to Ryan and Paul as we sit in the family room, eating Chinese takeout. Not much of the food has actually made it into my mouth, but I have artfully moved it around the plate.
Paul's features twist viciously when I explain about finding the dead cat in the box along with the threats contained in the pictures. I know he's wishing he had killed John the night John beat me. I end with reliving the horrible fight Alex and I had, culminating in the discovery that I am in love with a man incapable of, or unwilling to, love me back.
At least I now have verification of what I have suspected my whole life. I am entirely unlovable.
"Kylie, what the hell were you thinking, taking off like that? If Psycho Sysco is watching you, he could've followed you and run you off the road, or worse," Paul says. "You can't be impulsive right now. It's too dangerous."
"I know. I wasn't thinking. I just needed to get away." A feeling of shame washes over me.
Ryan grabs my hand. "No wonder Alex was freaking out when he called. No matter what, Kylie—love or not—that man cares deeply for you. His number one priority is keeping you safe."
I should feel incredibly guilty, knowing Alex was probably nearly insane with worry. What-the-fuck-ever. A bigger part of me wants him to suffer, wants him to feel the same pain I'm feeling. Paul and Ryan might not understand it, but I don't care. I trusted Alex, and now, I'm hurting. And I’ll be damned if I will apologize for my actions.
I spend all day Saturday in bed under the covers. Paul and Ryan have each come in to check on me a couple of times, trying to coax me into eating. I've refused, and they've left me alone, letting me handle this my way. I've heard their cell phones ringing throughout the day, and I assume it's Alex checking on me.
At about six p.m., my cell phone dings with a text message from Alex. It's the first contact I've had with him since the phone call the night before.
I just need to know you're safe.
My heart swells as the tears that have been flowing at various points throughout the day return. Shakily, I text back.
I'm safe. Not leaving the apartment. Paul and Ryan are with me.
I want to talk to Alex, to hear his voice, but I'm in no condition to carry on a conversation.
Okay. That's followed immediately by another message. I miss you.
I type I love you. But then I backspace and replace it with I miss you. Just very confused. And I hit Send.
After a moment, Alex responds.
I'm sorry.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and venture out into the family room where Paul and Ryan are watching TV. Paul is sprawled out on the couch and opens his arms up when he sees me. I eagerly fall beside him and allow him to envelop me.
As I'm lying down next to him, as I have done so many times before when my life seemed to be a hopeless mess, he whispers, "It'll be okay, Kylie," which starts a new stream of tears down my face.