When I got out of the shower, Steven was nowhere to be found. I’d started cooking dinner, thinking wherever he’d gone to, he wouldn’t be gone long. When he hadn’t returned by the time I finished up and plated the food, I decided to text him.
ME: Where did you go? Everything okay?
STEVEN: I’m in the lobby. Be right back.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I read his message and rubbed the soreness in my chest.
Anxiety.
That’s what this was. I’d been living with a slightly paranoid feeling since we had the run-in with King last month. Given Steven’s information that the man had an arrest record, I thought I was justified in my worry. But I didn’t need to know about his arrest record to know he wasn’t harmless. His behavior here in this apartment was enough to worry me.
I feared for his safety, mostly when we were apart, and it had begun to have subtle effects on my life.
Over the weekend, right before I began the half-marathon, I kissed Steven and told him I’d see him in eighty minutes—because I was determined to keep pace at just over six minutes per mile the entire race. But after I’d started, I thought about him standing at the finish line, waiting by himself in the crowd of strangers, and how King could possibly approach him. Those worries unconsciously made me pick up my pace and I finished in 76.25. Even though it didn’t get me placed in the top ten, it was my personal best for a long run.
Yeah, it was great that I made good time, but living with near-constant worry wasn’t.
“Oh my God, Ken, you will not believe what just happened!” Steven said, walking through the door.
I met him at the threshold of the living room
“What?” I asked, alarmed. “Is King here?”
He waved the hand holding his mail. “No, no. It’s my friend Kat. Remember the woman from the wedding video?”
I nodded, thinking of the pretty, dark-haired woman who married the tattooed guard.
When Steven showed me the video, I’d been surprised to learn that the Dan I’d heard so much about from Steven, was the same man assigned to Elizabeth when she’d been attacked. Seeing him brought up vivid memories and bitter feelings I was holding on to. Dan had left Elizabeth alone in the doctor’s lounge of Chicago General to go investigate a bogus stalker-sighting. That poor decision made Elizabeth vulnerable, and her stalker took advantage of the moment. If I hadn’t come into the lounge when I did—interrupted the woman holding Elizabeth at gunpoint—I doubt she’d be alive right now.
Still feel bad for shooting Menayda, Ken?
I asked myself this every time I was forced to think about King and the possible risks to Steven. More and more I found I was able to forgive myself for the shooting—and for the way I’d bungled the situation. The truth was, we were all alive. No one had to die that day, and I needed to realize that. Though I could have done several things differently to make the outcome better, in the moment—in the end—I stopped a woman from killing Elizabeth.
And Dan, he no doubt had his own regrets for that day. I’d clearly seen the remorse stamped on his face in the aftermath. I heard the concern and gentleness in his voice when he comforted her.
Initially, I hadn’t felt upset about it—only relieved Elizabeth and I hadn’t ended up full of bullets. But as the adrenaline wore off—as my own guilt surfaced, I felt bitter and blamed them. Blamed Nico for bringing this into her life. Blamed Elizabeth for making Nico’s problems my problem. Blamed the guard for not doing his sole duty.
Now? Now I understood—truly understood—that Elizabeth, Nico, Dan and I were just doing the best we could in a situation that wasn’t our fault.
And we were okay. Everyone was okay.
Based on the wedding video Steven was talking about, Dan seemed pretty okay in life too.
“Well, Kat’s evil-ass cousin showed up in the lobby tonight with police and security demanding he take her into custody.”
“What?!” I could feel my face scrunch up, betraying the surprise and incredulity I felt.
“Right?!” His eyes were wide behind his glasses. He seemed edgy and excitable, gesturing with his hands and swinging the mail around. “Dan and Kat showed up outside and this ghoul took his hired guys and the police and went outside thinking he’s going to take her away. Quinn gathered all the security in the building and marched out, so the rest of us, we all went outside to stand behind Dan and shield Kat in a show of support.”
He took a deep breath, finding his momentum again. “Anyway,” he gave another swipe of the mail. “All of us went out there to support them and Dan and Kat give enough proof to the police that they’re married, and that Caleb had no legal right to take her. Then—and this is funny—Nico starts shaking hands and giving autographs and telling jokes. The police and even Caleb’s own security are all like, Ooh, Nico Moretti,” Steven said this in falsetto and pretended to swoon.
Freaking Nico. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. He wasn’t that funny.
“We were all getting a big kick out of it, because, fuck this guy, right? Then he dropped the bombshell that Kat’s dad has had a major stroke.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Her cousin is straight-up evil. Man, I’m so glad I didn’t marry her. Dan’s got a heap of shit on his plate now that her dad’s fail—"
“What do mean, glad you didn’t marry her?” I interrupted sharply. This story was already making no sense, but the idea that Steven would marry Kat was baffling. “Were you together?”
“Uh…” Steven’s body had gone still, arms dropping to his side. By the smoothness in his expression, I could tell he’d said something he hadn’t meant to say. This couldn’t be good.
“Steven…” I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting.
His eyes blinked rapidly, and he sputtered for a moment. “I…No…We…” He seemed to get frustrated with himself and growled. “No. It’s nothing. Not even a blip, okay. She needed to get married, and she asked me. But Dan stepped up because they have a thing. No big deal.”
“She asked you,” I said robotically. “And you said what?”
“I told her to ask Dan!” His voice raised in annoyance. He was getting angry, like he resented having to answer my questions. I could have dropped it then. Kat asked, Steven said to ask Dan, she married Dan. Resolved. Except his whole attitude reeked of guilt. Of secrecy.
Steven always has secrets.
Secrets kept from friends. I’m a secret.
From bosses. King’s a secret.
From me. Kat’s a secret.
“That’s not a ‘no’ though, is it? Were you going to marry her? If Dan didn’t?” I demanded.
“But he did!” He scrubbed his free hand through his hair. “I knew he would. She knew he would.”
Intellectually, I knew marriage to his friend was not something he would have wanted—it would have been something he felt he needed to do to be helpful. But my heart didn’t see it that way.
Thinking of all the times he’d check the hall before we left, and all the times I’d said I love you without hearing it in return—I didn’t feel like he was as invested in this relationship as I was.
And it hurt.
To know he’d considered marrying someone without discussing it with me—just made something snap in my heart.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” he begged, his body sagging. “You don’t understand, she needed—”
“I don’t want to know what she needed!” I cut in. “Not only do I not care about your friend, I suspect a lot about this situation isn’t exactly legal, so spare me.” My pain was bleeding into anger now, all my built-up frustration and hurt needing to vent.
“Why are you so mad?” he asked, in surprise. He shook his head like I was unreasonable. Just that simple, affected bewilderment enraged me. He was going to act like this was nothing? That was how he was going to play this?
Not with me, he wasn’t.
This could not stand.
“Why am I here tonight, Steven?” He wrinkled his brow, opened his mouth to respond, but I plowed ahead. “It’s because I all but begged you to let me come over during the week. You were fine with weekends. Why haven’t I met Kat? Or Dan? Or the couple across the hall? Why did you want to keep me from meeting Ernesto and Paulie?”
Why won’t you say you love me?
I wouldn’t let myself ask the question. I didn’t think I could handle the answer.
Steven wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were focused on some point in the distance off to the right of me, but his jaw was ticking with furious, rhythmic clenches.
“You always do this,” he gritted out, bringing his eyes back to mine. “You take everything personally. It’s not always about you, you know.” He gestured angrily with his hands, shaking the mail close to my face.
It pissed me off—everything he said pissed me off, so I grabbed the mail and pulled, intent on getting it out of my way. But he wouldn’t let go.
“Stop!” he said and pulled against me. “Let go of the mail!”
The tug of war was bizarre, and his voice rose—had a distinct thread of panic in it. Instinctively, I knew I needed to see the mail, so I pulled as hard as I could and managed to wrench the papers loose.
I had two—what looked to be cards—and a sales circular from a furniture chain store.
He looked at my hands, blood draining from his face.
“No!”