Page 80 of Caleb
“You aren’t supposed to smoke in here,” he says, lifting a brow with evident disapproval.
“I fucking know that, but you need to cut me some slack.” I walk around the bed toward the window and open it, taking a long drag and letting the smoke out into the misty early morning. “Especially since you’ve confiscated the liquid version of my cigarettes.”
He gets closer to me.
“You know I love her too,” he says. “And I agree with everything you’re saying, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“What does it matter?” I take another quick drag, letting the smoke out through my nose like a demented dragon. “I’m leaving and will probably never see her again. So I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Precisely because of that,” he says. “It pains me to see you leave knowing you’re madly in love with her.”
Madly in love with her.
The phrase resonates to the core of my existence in the scariest of ways. I am mad, and I do love her. So maybe he’s right, and by realizing that, my life just got worse.
“At this point, I don’t know if staying would be better than leaving.” It would probably be torture to watch her drift further away from me in her new life, with new friends and newadmirersin New York. But I’d endure it. I’d do anything for her if it meant she’d be happy and safe.
I take my cigarette down to the filter and let the smoke out the window, shutting it afterward. The room’s getting cold. Then, I dispose of it in the trash after killing the ember with water from the bathroom faucet.
“So you are? In love with her?”
“I don’t fucking know!” I yell back at him as I step out of the bathroom. “Because it doesn’t matter.” I can feel my voice breaking because itdoesmatter. It should matter when I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown. I should be able to know this simple yet crucial piece of information.
Am I in love with her?
“I just—I see the way she looks at you and …” He shakes his head.
“And what?” I say with a laugh and a questioning look on my face. “You think there is a scenario that could end in a happily ever after or some shit like that for us?” I blast back. “I’m herbodyguard. We’re the help. She’ll never want to be with someone like me, and tonight is further proof of that undeniable fact. Thomas and men like him are her type.”
Silence.
“What kills me is that she won’t be able to tell the douches apart when the time comes for her to choose from the line of men who will probably fight for her affection,” I continue, spewing venom with my words. “She’s too trusting. Too kind. And I won’t be there to make sure she’s safe in the process. To make sure she has someone she can rely on by her side.”
“I’ll be there,” he reminds me. “I’ll keep her safe. I always have. I just—can’t believe you’re not coming. I wish there was something we could do to change her father’s mind.”
“That makes two of us.” I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at him, wondering if there’s anything else he might want to say. He seems to have covered it all. And no, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to change Ambassador Murphy’s mind, especially when there’s notarized signed paperwork where I agree to comply with his wishes in the middle of this tangled mess.
“Time to go to bed.” Aaron lets out a breath through his mouth and heads toward the door. “Take the day off tomorrow. I’ll have someone cover for you.”
“No fucking way! I’m not—”
“That’s a direct order,” he says, cutting me off before I can start complaining. “So go to bed, get some rest, and forget about buying any alcohol because I will toss it away again.”
My jaw pops, and I nod. He nods back. It’s settled.
He starts walking away when I say, “Aaron?” He looks over his shoulder, and I think to myself,Iamin love with her, but I’m unable to say the words out loud.
“I know,” he whispers back, walking away.
Of course he does, and I’m the dumbass who just figured it out.
Someone Who Isn’t Her
April 6, 2009
THIS IS IT—my last week of following Red around, and she doesn’t even know it. I need to start gathering the courage to sit down and tell her the truth. I know she’ll be disappointed, but not to what degree. A nagging voice inside my head taunts me with the idea that she might not be affected by the news. But Aaron insists that she will. He seems worried, actually. And it’s not that I want her to be devastated, but if she lets me know she cares about me, at least a fraction of how much I do about her, my work here is done.
I want to believe I made an impact on her life.
