Page 106 of Adrift

I reel back. “Find a way to fuck up my relationship? In case you missed what happened today, I was just told that my late wife of ten fucking years cheated on me and that my son may not be mine. To put icing on that shitcake, my girlfriend–my late wife’s sister, no less–told me she has been holding on to a text from her that could have revealed all this fucking information sooner.” I huff out a mirthless laugh. “So, no, I’m not the one who fucked-up a relationship. I’m pretty sure that blame lays solely on the hands of the Shah sisters.”

Dean is the one to reel back this time, his eyes widening before they narrow in on me. “Are you seriously comparing Rani to Sonia right now?”

“She hid a text from you–a text that had the potential to spin you off your axis unnecessarily when your wife was already dead.” Garrett’s tone is serious and low. “It was another way for Sonia to hurt you from the grave, and Rani made the decision to save you from that pain.”

“I would have done the same fucking thing,” Dean presses. “That text was vague as fuck and didn’t mean a whole lot until douchebag Ryan spewed off his venom today. But let’s just say for shits and giggles that Rani did put it together that her sister had cheated on you. What would you have gained if she told you?”

An emptiness constricts my chest and I feel a burn rise up my esophagus. I press my hand to it, hoping to squelch what surely must be a riptide threatening to tow me under.

My head and my heart are still in battle, but I can feel my mind’s surrender as it answers Dean’s question. I can feel it giving in, knowing it’s hanging on to a falsity. Knowing it’s connecting dots that aren’t there. Knowing my girl would never intentionally try to hurt me.

“Where–” I choke on my next question, my throat closing up. I already know I’m not going to like the answer. “Where is she?”

“She left,” Dean says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw her getting into the car with her friends, and by the tears streaming down her face, I’d say you’d be hard-pressed to find her back at your house.”

I grab the hair at the back of my head. “Fuck!”

Garrett bobs his head up and down. “‘Fuck’ is right, brother. If you’re at all convinced of the reasons Rani chose not to tell you, I’d say you should leave right the fuck now and try to get her back.”

I grab my wallet and keys, rushing toward the door. “I need to get out of here.”

“Fix this, Dar!” Dean yells at my back. “Don’t lose the best thing that’s happened to you since Arman. Because you’ll never find someone like her again.”

I know. I fucking know.

* * *

I’m running late.

I can feel it in my bones. I’m running late, and I’m going to regret not getting off my ass the minute she left my office.

I’ve called her four times already, and unsurprisingly, she’s sent me to voicemail each time. Jesus, I fucking messed up, and based on the five-alarm resounding incessantly in my head, I can tell I’m too late to fix it.

I speed down my street, my heart bouncing around in my chest as a foreboding feeling weighs down my stomach like an anchor pulling me deeper into a pit of despair.

Her car’s gone.

“Fuck!” Parking my car in the driveway, I open my car door before zooming up the patio stairs. I already know she’s gone, but my heart doesn’t want to believe it. Maybe, just maybe, she’s still here.

“Rani!” I yell as I get in the house, my panic setting my teeth on edge. I run up the stairs to her bedroom, throwing the door open and noticing nothing but a perfectly made bed, empty drawers, and the scent of lilies in the air. The fresh burgundy lilies I got her last night sit atop the dresser like a beacon for my internal turmoil.

The same lilies she didn’t take with her.

I pull my phone out again and call her once more, getting the same response I’ve gotten the last several times–her voicemail, a sweet message that does nothing to douse the acid inside my stomach. “Rani, please. Please pick up the phone. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I messed up. I fucking messed up–”

I run my hand through my hair before collapsing to the floor against her bed rail, my sorry excuse for a heart threatening to stop completely.

I messed up. I blamed the one person who has done nothing but help me every step of the way from the moment I met her. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I hurled my calloused words at her, comparing her to her sister. I’d gutted her with little regard for anything but my own situation, my own personal chaos.

She threw her shoulders back but there was no denying the way her face wilted. There was no denying the way her chin wobbled and her eyes swam inside a pool of disappointment.

I hurt her when she’d done nothing but provide me her own form of protection every step of the way. And now, I don’t know that I’ll ever get it back.

Do I even deserve to get her back?

I don’t know how long I sit there, my mind a puddle of incoherent thoughts wading between memories of Sonia–from our ski trips together to our arguments over my failure as a husband–to Ryan’s vicious words. My life feels like it’s mid-ride and harness-free on a roller coaster in hell, and I’m the lone occupant.

I didn’t need to be lonely. I could have still had her with me, my Rani. My fucking queen. I didn’t need to go through this alone when I knew she would have shouldered my pain right along with me.

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