Page 18 of I Do, You Don't
I stare at him. This man who shares a bond with me I can’t explain to anyone.
“Are you part of the mafia or a therapist?” I ask. It would be funny if my chest didn’t ache with every word.
He sighs, regret softening his features. “Mafia who cares about you. I should’ve told you sooner. I’ve been trying to protect you. Keep you safe from the world I belong to.”
I blink. “What do you mean? I’m safe.”
His jaw tightens. “No. You’re not. I kept you and Delilah a secret so you wouldn’t be dragged into my world. But now here we are. And the secret is destroying you.”
My legs give out, and I sink onto the couch. His words land, but they don’t fix anything. I’m tired. Bone-deep tired. Every breath feels like a battle.
“Calvin…” My voice cracks. I can’t finish.
He sits beside me, steady and quiet. His presence fills the space without crowding me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says. “When I was shot… when I was in the hospital, that’s when I made you and Delilah promise to keep it quiet. I needed you both. But I couldn’t risk anyone finding out.”
The memories return like a tide: sterile hospital rooms, Delilah’s hand in mine, Calvin pale and bleeding. I thought that secret would bring Delilah and me closer. A shared history. A bond.
Especially now, with me about to marry her best friend.
But I was wrong.
Now I see the lies for what they are—and just how far off the mark I was.
Calvin watches me. He always knows what I’m thinking.
“You deserve better than this,” he says, his voice softer now. “Better than all of this. But we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. We’ll make sure he pays.”
I turn toward him, guilt and gratitude twisting inside me. “I thought keeping the secret would bring us closer. I thought it was the right thing.”
“You didn’t know the whole story,” he says. “But we’ll fix it. Together.”
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe him.
Maybe I’m not as alone as I thought.
I stand by the door, jacket in hand, the weight of the moment pressing against my chest. The apartment feels too small, too still. Even the hum of the fridge sounds like a heartbeat I can’t match. The quiet is oppressive, but the world outside feels worse.
I’m still broken. But I’m going to work.
Calvin’s voice cuts through the silence—calm but firm. “I’ll drive you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to. I can take the bus.”
He doesn’t move. “I’d rather drive you. Please, Lara. I’ll just feel better about the whole thing.” His tone is softer than usual, almost pleading.
I sigh, glancing at him with a hesitant frown. “Aren’t you worried about being seen with me? What if someone connects us to your enemies?”
His expression softens, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got an unmarked car. No one will know. I just want to make sure you get there safely.”
The silence stretches between us. I hate that he’s trying so hard to make things easier, but I can’t deny the quiet relief of knowing he cares.
“Okay,” I murmur, the word slipping out like surrender. “But you’re calling me an Uber back. No questions.”
His smile widens, the tension in his shoulders easing. “It’s a deal.”
He stepsaside, holding the door open. I brace myself for the morning air, but it feels less like a breeze and more like a warning, cold, unyielding, full of things I can’t control.
