Epilogue (The Dark Duet Book 3)
: Chapter 4

After our pancakes (and an obscene amount of syrup on some very interesting body parts), Livvie informed me she had to go to her apartment and get ready for work. I wasn’t too happy about it, but I decided to be cordial and allow her some sense of normalcy. We’d had a lot of sex and done more talking than I cared for, but there were still plenty of things unresolved between us. I had my work cut out for me with Livvie. She wouldn’t even let me take her home.

“I can take a cab home. I’ll be in a rush when I get there and I’d feel bad ignoring you.” She smiled at me while putting on her shoes. “Can I call you when I get off work? It’ll be a little before midnight since it’s a Monday.”

I was still in bed, naked. I hoped my silent protest about putting on clothes after our shower would have inspired her to keep me company, but it didn’t work. She still hadn’t said anything about my confession. It was making me more nervous than I cared to admit.

“I still don’t understand why you’re leaving me. You know I’ll get up to no good without you.”

She smiled at me again and walked toward the bed. She bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

“I trust you.” She moved away before I could drag her back into bed.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I teased. The last thing I wanted was for her to run into trouble with some cab driver.

“I think the odds of being kidnapped twice in a lifetime are pretty slim. Don’t you?” Her tone was meant to convey sarcasm, but there was an edge to her words that smacked of resentment.

I forced myself to smile when all I wanted to do was tell her I was through taking her shit. I knew I deserved it. I deserved much more than she was giving. It’s just not in my nature to let people kick me while I’m already down.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be here if you call.” I rolled out of bed, kissed her on the top of her head, and walked into the bathroom to take a leak. I heard the door shut.

I tried to keep my mind away from Livvie by keeping busy. I read a book. I returned the Lamborghini. I ate. I searched through local and international news. Regardless of my intentions, it wasn’t long before my thoughts veered toward Livvie again.

I thought about the night before and her hasty exit in the morning. One set of thoughts made me smile; the other had me on high alert.

Livvie’s apartment was near her school. I researched the campus and neighborhood. Crime was relatively low. The internet wasn’t flush with stories of sexual assault at her college. However, I doubted the university would willingly offer such information. I made a mental note to investigate for myself at a later time. Livvie had a tendency to trust too easily.

I’d already done my due diligence and researched her neighbors. The man across the hall from Livvie had been arrested for domestic violence the year before but hadn’t been in trouble since. He’d been living with a female student at the time. I’d be keeping a close eye on him as well.

I showered around ten-thirty.

I had champagne brought up an hour later.

By midnight, I was expecting the phone to ring at any moment.

With each passing minute, I realized the void inside me was alive and well. It was thriving. It had a taste for a new sort of misery—hope. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself such an emotion. The void feasted on it while old memories reminded me how dangerous it could be. Hope and fear are different sides of the same coin. I had gone from missing Livvie to hoping I could be the man she wanted. I didn’t know which was worse.

I had gone through all sorts of scenarios in my mind prior to making contact with Livvie. However, her passive aggressive behavior toward me was not one of them. My mind is much more problem/solution oriented. Mad at me? Scream at me. Punch me if you’re up for it. Please don’t smile at me sweetly, act like nothing is wrong and then leave me disillusioned. And before you say anything, yes—I realize how fucking ironic my words are. I have played my fair share of mind games with Livvie. It doesn’t mean I liked being on the other side. No man does.

I took a cab over to her apartment. There was a wall of buttons and a speaker panel just outside the door. I ran my finger down a column of buttons until someone buzzed me in. I ignored the groggy insults coming through the speaker. I made it a point to ignore the button marked “S. Cole.”

The elevator to the fifth floor moved at a glacial pace. Thoughts raced through my mind, each bombarding me with different emotions. In the time it had taken to arrive on Livvie’s floor, I had changed my mind about what to say or do a dozen times.

I could turn around, change hotels, and let her wonder where the hell I’d gone. I could pound on her door and make a scene in the hall. I could push my way past her when she opened the door and refuse to leave until she gave me answers. I could tell her to go fuck herself and then leave.

I could.

I wouldn’t.

I took a deep breath and knocked. My heart beat a staccato rhythm and my breaths filled in the gaps. I’d been in more than my fair share of perilous situations, but few had the ability to affect me so physically.

After a few seconds, the door opened. A small chain prevented it from opening fully. Livvie’s tear-stained face looked at me through the gap. My anger evaporated and fear blossomed.

“Are you okay? You didn’t call.”

Livvie glanced away and shut the door in my face. I heard her dealing with the chain just before the door reopened and she motioned me inside. I stepped slowly and carefully. As I let my eyes wander around her apartment, I realized I’d never walked in Livvie’s world. I didn’t know all the different sides of her. There was a blue sofa and a coffee table in the shape of a splat. Fake orange daisies stuck out of a vase filled with clear marbles. Framed posters adorned her walls: Interview with a Vampire, The Crow, The Social Network, Inception, a poster of four different colored records, and a half-naked man whose virtues were compared to chocolate.

I felt conspicuously out of place. Livvie was young. She cared about movies, music, and boys. She preferred bright colors. I smiled when I saw her PlayStation. A set of drumsticks, a microphone, and a plastic guitar were crammed up against the TV stand. I wondered if Livvie liked to sing or if she preferred one of the instruments. I wondered who she played with and decided the couple she was always with seemed the most likely. They knew her in ways I didn’t. It made me jealous.

“I’m sorry,” Livvie said as she walked toward a side door. She was wearing a pink robe with teddy bears on it. I would never have chosen an outfit like that for her. I followed her onto her balcony and watched her light a cigarette. “I got out of work late and I figured you were probably asleep.” She inhaled deeply and let the smoke out smoothly, a sign of a well-seasoned smoker.

“How long have you been smoking?” I asked. I hadn’t noticed her smoking during the course of my surveillance. She smiled and scoffed sarcastically.

“You going to give me shit about it?”

“No. We all have our bad habits.” I would be doing something about the smoking, but I didn’t need to get into it right then. She turned her head toward me and gave me a grin.

“Not all my habits are bad.”

I smiled despite my unease.

“There’s a few I’m quite fond of,” I quoted her. I stepped closer and brushed her hair away from her forehead. I liked touching her. I liked to remind myself she was alive. To my relief, she closed her eyes and enjoyed my touch.

“I only do it when I’m stressed out. I took it up after I left the hospital. I haven’t had one in months.” She turned away and took another drag from her cigarette.

“What’s the real reason you didn’t call?” My fear surged. “Did you… change your mind? About us?”

She glanced at me over her shoulder before pointedly staring off into the night. She took two more drags from her cigarette.

“I don’t know what us is.”

My eyes were burning. The smoke, maybe.

“It could be whatever you want it to be, Livvie. Or it could be nothing. It’s up to you.” I knew the moment the words left my mouth they were a lie. She scowled at me.

“No, Caleb, it’s not so simple. It’s been a year. A fucking year! You never gave me the chance to be angry with you. You just disappeared and left me to worry that maybe you were dead. I had the FBI up my ass and the whole time—the whole time—I defended you. I defended what you did to me because I loved you and you’d just risked everything to save me. And now you walk back into my life.” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “And goddammit I can’t bear the thought of being without you again. But there’s all this other shit too. All the things I never let myself feel because I didn’t want to admit that maybe Reed and Sloan were right. Maybe I can’t love you.”

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as my dormant and underutilized emotions were accosted.

“Please,” I heard myself whisper. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. Perhaps it was only that I wanted her to stop saying those things. Her words hurt me. They hurt me more than I thought anything could hurt. They hurt nearly as much as the memory of Rafiq’s eyes going dead. My own words taunted me.

“I did think it was really cute when you said you loved me though.”

Livvie, in her infinite capacity for compassion, put out her cigarette and wrapped her arms around my waist. I took the lifeline she offered and held her in my arms. I might have squeezed her too hard. I didn’t want to let her go. I couldn’t.

“Caleb,” she gasped. I loosened my grip but didn’t let her go. “I don’t want you to disappear again. Please, promise me you won’t.”

I searched blindly for my voice and had to clear my throat before I could speak.

“I promise, Livvie. But I… I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been here before.”

“Neither have I, Caleb. And we’re seriously more fucked up than anyone else I know.” She laughed morosely. “But you have to give me time. You have to let me be mad at you. You have to promise that no matter what I say or do, you’ll forgive me. You’ll wait for me to let it go.”

So many emotions and I couldn’t let them out. I settled for stating the obvious.

“Livvie, I’ll forgive you whatever the hell you want. You don’t need my forgiveness; you never have to ask for it. It’s yours, Livvie. Anything that’s mine to give is already yours.” I placed my fingers in her hair and tilted her face up to mine. Her lips were salty with tears, her mouth tasted like smoke, but beyond that there was just Livvie. I needed Livvie.

In my best interpretation of every superhero movie I’d ever seen (and I hadn’t seen too many by that time), I lifted Livvie into my arms and carried her inside. She kindly gave me directions to her bedroom. We made love on her pastel-yellow sheets amidst a ridiculous amount of throw pillows.

***

Later, after we’d finished having sex, Livvie engaged me in conversation. It reminded me of Mexico. We had always been better in the dark. I’m going to spare you and, admittedly, myself the agony of the details of what happened after we finished making love. You know what Livvie went through. You know the truth about my past. After that night, I knew it too.

I learned my name had been James Cole. I had been born to an American named Elizabeth Cole and a man known only as Vlad. I was five when I’d been kidnapped and sent to live as a whore. My mother killed herself when I was twelve. I couldn’t help but take notice I’d been taken under Rafiq’s care around the same time. I wondered if he’d known my mother was dead when he’d decided to “rescue” me.

I couldn’t remember her face. I would always remember Rafiq’s. Meanwhile a voice nagged me: Vladek is your father. Your father is still alive.

“Are you okay?” Livvie whispered against my neck. I could feel her tears dripping on me. I could feel her arm wrapped tightly around my chest. I could feel her heart beating against my ribs.

I felt. I fucking felt and it was awful.

I pulled her close and ran my fingers across the small of her back, taking whatever comfort I could replace in having her close to me. She was alive. I was alive. We were together. I tried to focus on that.

“No, Kitten. I’m not okay,” I whispered. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to be okay. I just know that as long as you’re with me, there’s a chance that one day… I might be.”

She squeezed me. So much was trapped inside me, and her love—or whatever it was she felt for me —threatened to coax it out. I fought to keep it all inside, where I could control it and no one could use it against me. My life was fucked up. It always had been. There was no point in dwelling on things I couldn’t control or change. My mother was dead. Rafiq was dead. Livvie and I were alive. End of fucking pity party.

“I’m so sorry, Caleb,” she sobbed. I closed my eyes to blink the burning and stinging away. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I swallowed hard.

“I wish that were true. Once, it may have been, but it stopped being true a long time ago. I did what I did, Livvie. It was my fault.” We were quiet for a minute as the words settled. There was something I needed to know. “Livvie, why did you change your last name to Cole? Was it for James? Or… me?”

“Caleb, I know who you are. It doesn’t matter what I call you as long as it’s what you want.” She sighed. “I did it because…” She shifted uncomfortably.

“You loved me.” I closed my eyes. “Trust me—I didn’t miss the past tense. I understand.” I didn’t understand.

“Caleb, it’s not…” she whispered and pressed closer. “It’s just… what you said about change. We’re changing. We’re both different, and until we know what that means, I don’t think—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Livvie. I just want to be here. Right now. With you. Fuck the rest of it, because I don’t care. If there’s anything else you need to tell me, please do it now. Let’s get it over with and tomorrow we can start over. I want to start over, Livvie. Can we do that?” I kept stroking her back. It kept me grounded.

“I’d like that. But what will we tell people? We can’t tell them the truth, and I can’t leave my life behind again, Caleb.”

“What about the FBI? Are they still watching you?” I had a momentary flash of rage as I imagined coming face to face with Agent Reed. I’d pound his face into the ground—present tense!

“I’m supposed to meet Reed on Thursday. I know you don’t like him. Hell, I’m not sure I like him.” I could hear the smile in her voice and it irritated me. She’d compared him to me one too many times. “But he’s a good guy. He wanted to check on me since I told him I felt like someone was watching me. Aside from him and Sloan, I don’t deal with the FBI. I don’t have anything they want.” She nudged my ribs. I sighed.

“Well, you didn’t. You do now. With any luck you’ll be able to get rid of Reed easily. Tell him you have a secret admirer from school or something. I’m sure you do anyway. If you tell him there’s nothing for him to look into, he’ll be suspicious.” A voice in my head asked me if I could get away with getting rid of him for good. I calmly ignored it. I was determined to be someone different. I didn’t want to be a killer anymore.

“Okay, but what about the other stuff?”

“One day at a time, Livvie. I’m not ready to start explaining our relationship any more than you are. Let’s take our time coming up with our story.”

She propped herself on her elbow and leaned down to kiss my chest. She wiped at the wetness she had left on my shoulder.

“I swear I’ve done more crying in the past two days than I’ve done in the past year.” She smiled. “I think I’m done now. I really didn’t want to have to tell you all that stuff. It broke my damn heart when I had to hear it from Reed, but you deserve to know about your past.” Her gaze traveled from my eyes to my chest. She stroked me casually with her fingers. “The way you looked that day… he wasn’t worthy of your grief.”

I placed my hand on top of hers and cleared my throat.

“It’s over. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her expression turned playfully wistful.

“If you’d have found me sooner, we could have celebrated your birthday. I lit a candle for you last month. I had to eat the cake myself.” She smiled. Her words were strange to me, but I laughed too.

“What kind of cake?”

“German chocolate. It was soooo good,” she groaned. I smiled, and at last it was truly genuine.

“Well, it’s just as well. I don’t eat a lot of cake.”

“I do! Then again, I’m eight years younger than you and my metabolism can handle it. You have to watch your handsome figure.” Her hand shifted down my chest and rubbed my abdomen.

“I think I do alright,” I said. I wasn’t shy about my body. I had no reason to be. “So weird to have a birthday, though. Do you think I look twenty-seven?”

Her smile was coquettish.

“I think you look… delicious!” Her hand traveled further down my abdomen until she brushed my cock with her fingers.

“Delicious, huh? That’s a new one. I was thinking virile, or the male personification of perfection.”

She laughed out loud. Her laugh was infectious. I loved the way it was a little too loud to be lady-like.

“Oh, Caleb. You’re those things too. But right now? I’m more interested in your tastiness.” She slid down on the bed and took my cock in her hand.

“Oh! Well in that case… taste away. If you have any more cake, I’d be happy to provide the frosting.” She wrinkled her nose and I laughed.

I lay back and let Livvie blow more than my mind.