Page 178 of One More Kiss

April

By the timeI pulled into the parking garage, my car’s heater had just started to dry my dress, leaving me chilled to the bone, as my grandmother would have said. I would have to take a hot shower or a bath to rid myself of the cold that had gotten beneath my skin and become an ache deep within, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy or motivation to make that happen. I could only imagine how rough I looked after standing in the rain—drizzle, not rain. It was more of a fine mist, just enough to remind me of the darkness of the day, the sadness of my life, the melancholy I just couldn’t overcome and doubted I ever would. And just before I got out of the vehicle, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror.

I looked every bit as grief-stricken as I felt. My hair was a dismal remnant of what it had been when I’d styled it this morning, and what remained of my makeup streaked my cheeks that were pinkened by the brisk fall air. My nose was swollen and my eyes rimmed red from crying, but none of it mattered. My spirit was dead. I couldn’t figure out why my heart even chose to continue to beat.

Nevertheless, I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat, ran my hand through my wet locks to get them out of my face, and pushed open the car. When I slammed the door, the sound of its closing echoed off the concrete that surrounded me, and I saw how empty the garage was.

A symbolic meaning for my worthless life.

The chirp of the key fob as I set the vehicle’s alarm felt like a bird mocking me with its happy song. If there’d been a bird and it had been singing, I would have shot it with my metaphorical slingshot to silence its optimism.

Each step I took toward the elevator reverberated in the space. The clack of my heels, one at a time, over and over, filled the silence and the void. Not even the city’s traffic overshadowed my isolation, sadness, and gloom. All I sensed was cold, concrete, and loneliness—a world filled with various shades of grey.

I sniffled, trying to pull myself together, for who or what, I wasn’t sure. There was no one around. No one would be coming by. And based on how few cars were in the garage, I couldn’t imagine I’d be coming into contact with anyone else before making my way to the penthouse. My unkempt appearance wouldn’t be noticed or even seen. Still, I swatted at the tears that kept escaping, slipping past my lashes and down my cheeks. And I used my sleeve to capture the ones clinging to my jaw.

Only I would have forgotten tissues.

When I reached the elevator, I leaned forward to push the call button and then stood back, waiting for the car to arrive. A chill ran down my spine as a brisk wind brushed through the parking garage, and I wrapped my arms around my body. My chin met my chest when I dropped my head, and I closed my eyes as I stood there. The tears kept coming, but I gave up trying to clear my face of them.

I’d never been so grateful for the ding of an elevator or the vacancy within as the doors slid apart to reveal no one inside. I took a deep breath and dropped my arms to my sides, stepping in and pressing the P for the penthouse as I slid my card in the slot to allow me access to the exclusive floor. I dreaded being alone, but at least if I had to be, it would be in the lap of luxury.

Just before the doors closed, thunder clapped so loudly outside that it shook the building and brought my attention back to the present—and the hand that slipped into the small opening, stopping the doors from sealing. A man stepped inside, moved in front of the panel of buttons, and pressed one, closing the doors this time. I had moved to the opposite side of the car and to the back corner, giving him space and me isolation. I wasn’t interested in talking. I didn’t know many people in the building, and today wasn’t the day to meet them.

Classical music played softly in the background, and the lights inside the car seemed exceptionally bright for such a gloomy day. I squinted to try to keep the glare from my sensitive eyes—crying did that to me. In the end, I opted for staring at the floor as the elevator went up. My gaze stayed fixated on the same black diamond in the short carpet until the car jolted, sending the man at the buttons and me in the corner back into the mirrored wall behind us.

The music stopped, the lights flickered off, and finally, an electric hum took over as what I assumed were generator-powered lights came to life. They weren’t nearly as harsh as those in the ceiling and cast an eerie glow around the small space. I stabilized myself and straightened my dress. The guy stood tall and turned to me.

“Are you all rig—?” The moment he caught my eyes, he stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

Clearly, I was not all right; in fact, it was quite obvious I was far from okay. My eyes met his, but all I could muster was a slight nod.

“Did you get hurt?”

He was asking about the elevator’s stopping, not the tragedy that was my life. So, while yes, I was hurting, it wasn’t caused by the lack of movement we were currently experiencing. I shook my head, knowing words would fail me or betray me. Either way, it could get ugly quick, and this stranger didn’t need a lesson in mortality, depression, or my inner turmoil. Silence was better.

The man stared at me, which I reciprocated, although I wasn’t certain why. It should have been uncomfortable, but there was something in his eyes that nearly broke me. They were a rich brown with hints of gold woven through, and he had the longest, blackest lashes I’d ever seen on a man. He bit his lip, but it certainly wasn’t seductive, and then he pushed his dark hair away from his face. There was an angry scar above his right brow, tinged red like it wasn’t all that old, and I wanted to ask what had happened. That would be as rude as his poking into my turmoil, so I remained quiet. The guy scanned my wet hair down my face, stopping briefly again at my eyes, then moving to my dress before landing on my feet. Then he turned back to the buttons that glowed softly in the dim car and then he peered up at the ceiling.

“I’m sure we’ll get moving again soon.” He spoke, but it wasn’t to me. “We can’t sit here long. I’m sure a generator or something will get us started again.” A few seconds passed before he reached out, pressing a button on the panel, although which one it was, I couldn’t see. “Come on, dammit.” His mutterings continued, and I stepped back, giving him space.

I wasn’t scared of him, but I was concerned over the situation. I clutched the railing and leaned back against it, sending up a prayer that we wouldn’t be stuck here long. It wouldn’t serve the man or me well to be stuck in this tin can if we both freaked out. And while I wasn’t prone to panic attacks or claustrophobia, I had bouts of both if I felt trapped—this would quickly become that situation if the elevator didn’t start up soon.

It didn’t take the guy long to settle down, thankfully. He turned to me, and I stared up at him, realizing just how much taller he was than my short stature. Although, at five feet, most people had several inches on me. Heels usually reduced that, but not today.

“Does this happen a lot?” He pointed to the buttons, but I was certain he was talking about the stalled elevator.

I licked my lips and cleared my throat as I shook my head. “Not that I know of.” With a subtle shrug, I added, “It’s probably the storm.” It didn’t matter what it was. I needed the elevator to move.

“Wouldn’t you think the generators would keep the elevator moving once they came on?”

I wasn’t a mechanic or involved in maintenance in any way. I would have thought that would have been glaringly obvious based on my appearance, and then I realized just how bad I looked. The polished appearance I normally held was nowhere to be seen, but I still didn’t think I looked like I held the answer to his question. “I’m not sure.”

He ran his hand through his hair, revealing the scar again; I tried not to stare at it. “This isn’t exactly what I had planned for today.” Again, he hadn’t directed his comment toward me, so I didn’t respond. “Although, I guess death by elevator accomplishes the same thing.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard that last part correctly or if it was just what I’d been through this morning—hell, the last few days—clouding my judgment and my ability to decipher mumbling. Either way, the thought of dying just brought me to my knees. Literally.

My legs threatened to give way as my knuckles turned white, clinging to the railing behind me.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.”

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