Page 54

DAVINA

“Now I want to ask you something.” I pushed my plate of pasta away and folded my fingers beneath my chin.

While steering The Saint back to the cottage, Deke had suggested we go to a restaurant to eat, but after what’d happened with Manhattan Rose and the pictures of us at the hotel floating around, the last thing I wanted was more private photos of us taken just to be sold to some tabloid.

Instead, we had ordered the food for pickup so we could eat in the cottage. For the first time, I’d ridden in his leather-scented Ferrari, watching as he drove past thick-trunked trees and coasted along black pavement peppered with leaves.

Deke sat up in his chair and picked up a napkin from the glass table to wipe his mouth. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s a personal question, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed, and his features hardened just a little as he said, “Okay ...”

“So, when we first started emailing, you said something about how grief never goes away.”

He stared at me blankly before lowering his head, like he knew where this was headed.

“I only say that because I, um ... I saw a picture your mom posted about your brother from several years ago. I guess I’m wondering why you never talk about him like how you talk about your sisters.”

Deke’s nostrils flared as he stood up and grabbed my plate. “You done with this?” he asked, already carrying it to the kitchen.

“Deke, you know what? It’s fine. I don’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

His back was to me as he set the plates on the island counter. He planted his fists on the quartz countertop, his shoulders tense. Then his shoulders relaxed, and he threw his head back, pointing his face to the ceiling.

“Is this why you sent her to me?” he mumbled. He said the words lowly, a quiet whisper to God, but I heard every single one.

Deke turned and rested his lower back against the counter edge, his biceps bulging beneath his shirt. “I don’t talk about him for the same reasons you don’t talk much about your husband.”

It was my turn to look away. I focused on the leftover garlic knots on the table.

“You asked about him earlier, and I told you,” I reminded him. A silence fell down on us, thick and tense. I heard him release a belly-deep sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Deke whispered. He maneuvered his way back to me and lowered to a squat next to my chair. He took my hand and held it tight, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Davina, I’m sorry ,” he repeated. “That wasn’t fair. That’s just a sensitive topic for me. I don’t like thinking about it.” I turned my head a fraction to find his eyes, only to realize my vision was blurry.

Damn it. No. I was not about to cry in front of him. I pulled my hand out of his and left the table to sit on one of the couches. As I sank into the plush material, I closed my eyes and let out a trembling breath.

Deke circled the couch and sat next to me.

“You’re right,” I muttered. “If you hadn’t brought him up, I wouldn’t have told you about him, so I get it. Forget I even asked anything.”

“No,” Deke murmured. “I feel like I should tell you something about him so you can understand why he’s a sore subject for me.”

His eyes were glossy. He was trying desperately hard not to cry. Way to ruin a great weekend, Davina.

“His name was Damon,” Deke said. “He died when I was fourteen, so he was seventeen. And I, uh ...” He scratched the top of his head, eyes bouncing around the room. “I don’t like bringing it up because he committed suicide.”

At that, my eyes stretched, and my heart dropped. No longer was my guard rising. It had slammed back down again, and I instinctively took Deke’s hand in mine.

“Deke. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well ... now you know.” He offered a pathetic smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“But ... why did he do it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Deke shrugged. “I have my assumptions for why he did it, but we’ll never really know.”

I started to ask something else, but his phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it, almost like he was in the center of the ocean and it was a raft he could hang on to. Something to save him, spare him from remembering the overwhelming details.

I could see the relief in his eyes, how quick he was to stand. All the other times when his phone rang, he ignored the calls, but not now.

“It’s Camille. Gotta take this.” He was up and out of the room before I could respond.

I sat for a moment, tucking my hands between my thighs. His brother committed suicide ? And at such a young age too. I couldn’t imagine that pain. It’s one thing for a person to be sick, or to die in an accident, but it’s another to know that a person inflicted pain upon themselves to end their own life.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It made sense that Deke didn’t want to talk about it. Suicide never made sense to the people closest to the victim. All they were left with were questions and anger.

How do you discuss something like that without feeling that pang of sadness, or guilt, even? Because I was sure there was some part of Deke that blamed himself for what his brother did.

We all blame ourselves after a death, wishing we’d talked to that person more, or hugged them one last time. Wishing we hadn’t yelled at them, cursed them out, or ignored their phone calls.

Guilt.

Shame.

Hurt.

It’s all tangled in the same web.

While Deke talked to his sister on the deck, I cleaned the kitchen. My mind was racing so fast I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight. I kept cleaning, clinging to the distraction, even going so far as to wipe the inside of the microwave.

It wasn’t until I’d cleared the counters that he walked inside again. He met up with me, holding my eyes while taking one of my damp hands in his.

“Come to the room with me.”

I let him lead the way, but with each step we took up the stairs, my heart was hammering. I wasn’t sure what had me going or what was making me so nervous. It was like all the emotion I was trying to swallow was bubbling up and the lid on the pot was wobbling and ready to fly off.

When we entered the master bedroom, Deke released my hand to sit on the edge of the bed. “I feel like I should tell you more about my brother so you can better understand.”

“No, Deke. Don’t.” I waved my hands and took a minor step back. My breath was coming out heavier. “You don’t have to. Seriously.”

He noticed me backing away, and a slight dip formed between his eyebrows. I thought about what Deke said on the boat, about how I could talk to him about Lewis. How could I just talk about my dead husband knowing his pain was probably much worse?

All these thoughts of death, of suicide, of sickness ... it hit me so hard. Suddenly that giant room, with the endless ceiling, felt too small, and I couldn’t breathe. My head was spinning, my throat drying ...

Oh, God. I’m having a panic attack.

I hadn’t had one in so long. The first time was after Daddy died. I was ten, sitting in my classroom and gasping for breath. I had several of them throughout that year, to the point where my doctor suggested to my mother that I see a therapist.

The last time was a week after Lew died, when the funeral and wake were over, the people had left, and I was alone in my room, with no noise.

I thought that after Lew, I was officially done having them, but there was something about this moment. The weight of it was crippling, like a giant thumb was pressing down on me and smashing me down until I was flat.

It wasn’t until Deke was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders and his eyes full of concern, that I realized I was hyperventilating.

“Davina, breathe. Look at me. I’ve got you. Breathe. ”

I tried collecting breaths, but that only made my chest tighter.

I pulled away from him, rushing around him to get to my bag in the corner. I scrambled through it, searching for my phone. I wanted to call my sister or Tish. They were the only two people who could take me off the ledge. I stopped a moment, flinging my hands as if they were on fire.

“Where’s my phone? I—I need my phone.”

“Davina,” Deke called again, but I didn’t want to hear him. I remembered I left my phone downstairs. All the way downstairs. My body couldn’t handle it. I would’ve fallen if I tried going down there.

I glanced at Deke, watching as pity consumed him, and because I didn’t know what else to do, I ran past him to get to the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me and locked it. I should’ve left, but I couldn’t drive in that state, panting wildly, my heart racing, fear sinking into my heart.

It was all coming at me at the wrong fucking time.

All the memories.

All the panic attacks I’d had when I was younger as I feared the unknown.

The depression I was in, wondering how life was worth living when it was so, so hard.

Always putting on a brave face, when deep down I was weak. I was soft. I was far from brave.

I thought back to a time way before I’d met Lew, back when my daddy would play hopscotch with me, or fail at braiding my hair into two thick braids. Back when I realized my dad was the first man I ever loved. And then he was gone—snatched away in the blink of an eye. And then there was Lewis. My sweet, sweet Lewis. Gone too. Forever.

A wail broke through my lips, and I dropped my face into my hands as I slid down the door. I could hear Deke calling my name, tapping on the other side of the door, begging to be let in.

Why is this happening now? Why now? Deke was the last person I wanted to see me like this. What the hell was wrong with me, anyway? Why was I in that damn lake house in the first place?

It hadn’t even been a full year since my husband died, and there I was in a house with another man, acting like my husband never existed. Acting like I hadn’t just clung to his cold, dead body while sobbing all over his chest.

Then there was Deke. I’d been so focused on my own grief that I hadn’t taken the time to explore his. All this time he’d been dealing with that heartbreak, and I didn’t know because I was so selfish, so stupid, so worthless .

No wonder everything was constantly ripped away from me. I didn’t deserve any of it.

I broke down in tears, letting myself feel it, take it in, just like Octavia had told me to do. She was my mini therapist. My safety net. I wanted to call her. I breathed in and out, and when I felt stable enough, I stood as Deke knocked on the door again.

“Davina, please. Let me in,” he pleaded.

I faced the door with wobbly knees and swiped at my tight eyes. Then I opened it. When Deke caught sight of me, relief washed over him, and the edge melted from his shoulders.

I walked past him, going for my bag again and stuffing my clothes into it.

“I need to go home.” I swiped hard at my face with the back of my arm.

“What? No. Why?” he asked, and I don’t think I’d ever heard such desperation in his voice. That cool-guy facade was cracking, the charming Deke being replaced by a helpless, confused one. “D, come on. Why are you packing?”

“Don’t call me that right now. Please,” I said, moving past him to collect my toiletries from the bathroom.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

I grabbed my bodywash and deodorant.

“You don’t have to go, though, Davina,” he said as I slipped past him again, stuffing the toiletries into one of the side pockets.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Ugh. Why couldn’t he let this go? Why couldn’t he let me go? How could he not see that I wasn’t worth it? That he deserved more? That just like the other men in my life, he would probably be taken from me, too, if I gave in to him?

I couldn’t risk that. The thought of it petrified me. If another person I cared about got snatched away somehow, my mind wouldn’t be able to handle it. I stared at him for a moment and shook my head. There was only one way I could think of to make him let go.

“I can’t be here, Deke. I can’t sit here and pretend that all this shit I’m doing with you is okay, because it’s not! I lost my husband . He was ... he was supposed to be the love of my life, but now you’re here and you’re so perfect , and I just ...” I cupped my mouth as the tears thickened. My throat felt raw, like my vocal cords were on fire. “I just have to go, okay? This whole thing with us has just been too much, too fast, and—”

“You’re scared,” he stated, and there was a hint of agitation in his voice. He may as well have called me a coward to my face.

“You’re right!” I shot back. “I am scared! I told you that from the beginning!”

“But what are you so scared of, Davina? I’m right here! I haven’t gone anywhere!” His voice had risen in volume to match mine.

I zipped my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I started for the door, but he stepped in front of me and blocked the way.

“No. Don’t fucking run this time! Tell me the truth. What are you so afraid of when it comes to me?”

“ Everything , Deke!” I yelled, glaring up at him. He blinked down at me like I’d sprouted another head, but he didn’t startle, didn’t flinch. “I could hardly love Lewis the right way, but I knew when I met him, he was the one for me, okay? He was the one I was supposed to take care of, to nurture, to fuck, and whatever else a wife is supposed to do! I’m not supposed to be with a fucking basketball player ! I’m not supposed to be with a guy who treats women like objects—who makes a game out of catching a grieving widow and having his way with her because he can!”

Deke flinched this time and staggered backward like I’d slapped him. I felt horrible, but this was good. Now he’d know I wasn’t perfect, that I wasn’t the woman for him. He could let go. Move on ... even if it hurt.

“Wow,” he said, so low it was more like he’d expelled a breath. “How long have you been keeping that bottled in?”

I swallowed salty snot and tears as I tore my eyes away. I couldn’t look at him. I’d only cry again. I was hurting him, I knew this, but I had to. He had to find someone else.

“You know what, Davina? One thing you said about me is true. I did have a point in my life where I treated women like objects. I made it into the league and became a man who gave zero fucks, because I didn’t have to! For once, it was my life and I was in control, so yes, I did whatever the hell I wanted, with whoever the hell I wanted, because I felt like it! But do you think that shit made me happy? Do you think I wanted to be with women whose names I couldn’t even remember the next morning? With women like Giselle, who don’t give a single fuck about me? Do you think I would be standing here right now explaining all of this to you if I was just some man who wanted to make a game out of catching a widow ? Do you really think I’m that selfish—that petty ?”

He took a step closer, and my pulse swam to my ears.

“Davina, I know you don’t want to hear me say this, but I love you , all right? And there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind, because you’re speaking out of anger and hurt, and I know those feelings. I embodied those feelings for years. Angry all the time, pissed off at the world, wondering why it had to be my brother, wondering what the hell I did to deserve any of what I went through.”

“No,” I whimpered, backing away. “You don’t. You can’t love me.”

“Yes, I can,” he declared. “I fucking love you . Since the day I set foot in your office, way before I even noticed those rings on your finger, I took one look into your eyes, and you had me. I wanted something with you, and I didn’t care what it was. All I knew was that I could not let you get away from me. You could not leave my life.”

“Deke, please,” I cried, bowing my head. “Just stop talking, please.”

“No, because I want you to know it, Davina. I’m tired of hiding it.” He caught my hand and clasped it in his, trying to catch my eyes, too, but I wouldn’t look. I couldn’t look, or I’d break. “When you’re away from me, my heart bleeds , Davina. My chest hurts and I drown in my own misery every time I have to watch you walk away from me. I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. All those times before, I just let you go because I knew I couldn’t have you, or that you weren’t ready for it yet, but I can’t keep letting you slip away from me. I want you in ways I never thought possible, and I have never felt this way about a woman in my life. You might think I’m lying to you, but I would never lie about something like this.” He held on to my hand tighter, pressing my palm to his chest and sealing the gap between us. I could feel his heart beating hard, fast.

“I hear all these stories about how being in love makes you feel a different way. Being without that person makes you physically sick—makes you feel like you can’t do life without them—and I’m telling you, Davina. If you leave this house, if you walk out that door ... I will be sick without you. You’re my cure, D. Regardless of what you’ve gone through or what I’ve been through, I have no doubt we’re in this house together and talking about this for a reason. You can’t stand here and tell me what we have isn’t real. Even the first letters of our names are a damn match. You’re my other half, and I feel that deep in my soul. And look, I know you made a lifelong promise to Lewis when you married him. I know , okay?”

I tried snatching my hands away when he said Lew’s name, but he held on tighter. I’d never heard Deke say it, and it struck a chord in me. God, it hurt so bad, and he kept holding on, kept talking, kept pleading with me.

“I get why you’re torn with your feelings and with what you want, but he’s gone now, baby. He’s gone, and I know that shit hurts. I know it cuts you up inside, like annoying little fucking paper cuts, but I’m here , Davina. I’m here right now, willing to wait, willing to be patient with you, to let you process it all and talk about it whenever you want to. I’m here . I’m giving my heart to you, and that can’t be for nothing. It just can’t, baby. So please , just this once, don’t walk away from me. Don’t leave, because if you go, you and I both know what that means.”

All of his words hit me like a ton of bricks, and because I couldn’t contain my emotions anymore, a sob bubbled out of me.

When he brought me into his arms and hugged me against his broad chest, I cried like I never had before. I cried so hard and for so long my stomach became sore and my eyes felt stretched thin.

We lay on the bed, the hours passing, my body still racked with pain and guilt. We didn’t utter a word. We just lay there, breathing in sync, thinking.

I hadn’t cried so much in months, but it was like my soul needed the cleanse. I’d bottled the emotions in for a while, thinking one day they’d go away or even become dull and muted, but all they’d done was accumulate.

At some point, Deke fell asleep while holding me in his arms. I shifted a bit, and his arms tensed. Even in his sleep he didn’t want to let go. I managed to free myself, then sat up to look at him— really look at him.

This beautiful man with the world as his oyster. This kind soul who loved me , who wanted me ... and it made no sense at all. Giselle was right. A woman like me didn’t belong in his world, because his world was meant to be easy and satisfying after all that hardship with his brother, and I was a complicated, mourning mess. I was a literal trigger to him. One pull on that traumatic gun, and it’d pierce him right in the heart.

My bottom lip trembled as I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. I left my lips on his skin a few seconds too long, and a hot tear slid down my cheek. I wiped the tear away before it could land on him, then climbed off the bed and grabbed my bag.

I looked at him one last time, and before my eyes could fill with tears, I closed the door and walked away.