Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
A warm, early summer day greets me as I push out of the storage unit facility. But I’m not here to stalk Gabriel. No, I’ve let that go. I’ve stopped looking over my shoulder—mostly, anyway. Today I’m leaving with a stack of flattened moving boxes clutched in my arms. I balance them as I step off the sidewalk and cross the street, feeling the warmth of bright sunshine on my face. A drop of sweat rolls down my cheek, and I shrug my shoulder to wipe it away.
I’ve decided to move. I’m letting our apartment go—I think it’s for the best. I think you’d agree. A small brownstone with a tiny garden awaits me in Carroll Gardens. When I went to look at it with the real estate agent, a teal wreath with Easter eggs and cartoon bunnies hung from the front door. It was so cheerful, the sort of detail that made me realize I still have a whole life ahead of me, and if I shake this one loose, I might even enjoy it.
As I take the stairs up to my apartment for one of the final times—the movers come tomorrow—I shift the boxes, reaching for my keys. But someone stands at the top of the staircase. I pause to let them go by, but they don’t move, so I look up.
My breath catches.
“Gabriel.”
I find my balance before taking the last step. For a moment, I think of turning and running the other way. But I don’t run anymore. Not that I could, weighted down by boxes as I am, but the new me stands her ground.
“What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?”
“Your husband’s address was on the police report from… that night. And I came to talk to you, if that’s okay?” He tucks his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels, trying, I think, to put me at ease.
“So talk.” My words come out harshly, but he’s shown up at my front door unannounced. A tiny bit of me is glad to see him. But mostly, I wish he’d waited a day. I’d be gone by then. I set the boxes on the landing, lean them against the stairwell rail, and fold my arms across my chest.
“Thank you.” He presses his lips together and nods. “Thank you for agreeing to testify. Detective Green said you’ll lose your license to do it, and I know that’s a big sacrifice. I appreciate you doing that for me.”
“I’m doing it for Ellen and Rose. Not you. They were the only innocent people in all of this. I owe them justice. It’s the least I can do.”
Another nod. “Fair enough.”
I lean over to grab my boxes, because it seems he’s done talking. But questions bubble up, and I can’t contain them. I rise empty-handed.
“Why did you do it? Why did you come to my office if you knew who I was? Why did you come to me for treatment?” I demand.
Gabriel opens his mouth, then passes a hand across his face, scratches his chin. “I was angry. Not thinking straight. I wanted to make you suffer, like I was. Make you listen about my loss. I wanted you to hurt.” He leans back against the wall. “But you were actually kind. You tried to help me. And…” He lifts his gaze for just a moment. “I found myself drawn to you, attracted to you. Which was the worst possible thing that could have happened. I had to come back again after that. For a while, you were the only thing that made me feel better. Made me feel like—like there was something more to life.” He sighs. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? I don’t make sense. Grief doesn’t make sense.” He eyes me. “You should know, that part was real. I really did like you.”
Silence stretches between us. I meet his eyes to gauge his sincerity, and I find nothing but truth reflecting back at me.
“I really did like you.”
That shouldn’t warm me in the way it does. I shouldn’t feel anything. But I do. Some soft spot inside me unfurls, and I relax a little.
“Here.” He holds something out, tucked into his fist, and waits until I give him my hand so he can fold it into my palm. “Gotta go.” He smiles ever so slightly and motions to the boxes. “Good luck with whatever’s next.”
I don’t stop him as he hurries down the stairs. When I open my hand, it’s Connor’s keychain, the one I saw in Gabriel’s storage unit.
“Wait!”
Gabriel turns.
“Why did you go to the storage unit so often?”
He smiles sadly. “I put my daughter’s things in there because they were too painful to look at. Then I went to visit them every day anyway.” He shrugs. “Don’t ask me to make sense of it.”