She makes me want to be better.
Which is problematic, considering I already know this is the best I’ll ever get.
I’m under no misconceptions that I’m salvageable. I’m rotten to the core. Nobody does what I do and finds redemption, no matter how much I believe that ridding the world of fiends like Dylan and Theresa’s husband is for the greater good.
So why the fuck would I think that Shay and I could make it work?
That bastard hope is playing mind games with me, that’s why.
So is that stupid goddamn book she loves so much. Nobody but an incurable romantic would think going through hell for half a century waiting for your one true love’s husband to die so you can be together is anything but a horror story.
Love in the Time of Cholera my ass. It should be called Idiots Mistaking Insanity for Romance.
I think I’ll burn my copy.
Fate decides this is a good teachable moment for me and sends me a ghost from my past in the form of a phone call.
I look at the number on the touch screen of my dashboard and tense. I hesitate before answering, because I already know this will be tough.
“Hello, Kiyoko.”
“I know we said we’d only communicate through Axel from now on, but I needed to talk to you.”
Her voice is soft and melodic. An image of her face flashes into my mind’s eye. Black hair and pale skin, bow-shaped lips and high cheekbones.
Dark, haunted eyes.
“What’s the matter?”
She exhales. “I miss you.”
I hate how sad she sounds. We haven’t seen each other in months, and our relationship was strained for a long time before that, but it doesn’t mean I want her to be unhappy.
Quite the opposite. I want her to live her best life, which is why I broke it off with her. Having me around only reminded her every day of what she’d lost.
Sometimes people cling to reminders of their grief instead of letting go like they should. Makes them feel like they’re somehow in control, when all they’re doing is tormenting themselves.
“Are you all right? Other than that, I mean.”
“I’m okay. Surviving. How are you?”
I think of Shay moaning my name as she dug her nails into my back this morning and smile. “I’m good.”
After a pause, she says, “You sound good.”
If she’s hoping I’ll give her an explanation, she should know better.
“Everything green with the move on your end?”
“Yes. No problems. Theresa loved the apartment. Cried when I gave her the keys. Her kid’s a sweetheart. You’re seeing someone new, aren’t you?”
My tone gentle, I say, “You know I won’t tell you that.”
“You just did. Who is she?”
“Kiyoko, don’t do this.”
There’s a long silence on her end. In the background, I hear calliope music.
She’s at Granville Island again, at the park overlooking the water where she used to take her daughter on walks in her stroller.
Her tone harder than before, she says, “You know what your problem is, Coleton? You have a hero complex.”
A sense of fatigue descends on me, weighing down my body. “So this is what the call is really about. You want to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight. I want you to tell me about your new girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
She scoffs. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I know you. I know every inflection in your voice. We’ve known each other for sixteen years and were together for four.”
“Five.”
“Yeah, but who’s counting, right? None of it matters anymore. Nothing matters.”
“Arguing with me isn’t going to help you feel better. And you’re only torturing yourself by going to that park. Go home, Ki. Go home and take care of yourself.”
“I’d take that advice, but I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”
“What if I said please?”
“You never say please. The only thing you’re good at saying is goodbye. I hope your new girlfriend enjoys disappointment.”
She disconnects.
“Fuck.”
I jab my finger against the display to clear it, then drive for another ten minutes before I’m calm enough to make another call. Carter doesn’t pick up his cell phone, so I call the office.
“McCord Media, how may I help you?”
“Hello, Marnie. This is Cole. Is Carter in his office?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to put you through?”