Made in America (26 page)

- 27 -

Raven

“So how’d it go?” Tito asks the second I’m through the front door.

“Jesus, give me a minute, will you.”

I drop my purse and make my way into the living room, flopping down on the couch I’ve called home for the last month. Not by choice, either. I have a perfectly good apartment to live in, but my guys insisted I stay with them until the whole Grant thing has been resolved.

And what a month it’s been, too.

The first week was a mess of angry tears, the second week was a mess of I miss him tears, the third week was a buffet of the two, and by week four I managed to convince myself that if I cried anymore I’d deplete all the water in my body and shrivel up into a prune, so there were no tears.

Just cake. Lots, and lots, of cake.

Tito drops down next to me and puts his hand on my knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I muse. “I think I am.”

I didn’t know how everything was going to play out today when I all of a sudden woke up and decided I was ready to face him. I didn’t know what I was going to say, what I was going to do. Hell, I honestly didn’t know if I was going to slap him, or kiss him. But it was the right thing to do to keep my sanity, because I’ve been going absolutely bonkers without him.

I had to know where his head was at, so after getting dressed and telling Tito my plans—or lack thereof—with Frankie listening in as he got ready for work, I left with their blessing, and their kisses of good luck.

The next thing I knew I was standing in his office, watching him stew in his chair while looking out the window. I must’ve been there for a good five minutes before he said anything, and when he did it was to himself. I’m not going to lie, it was nice to hear him admit that he fucked up.

“So tell me all about it,” Tito smiles.

I take a soothing breath and spill the beans, letting him know the ins and outs of the conversation Grant and I had over breakfast, even though Grant was the one to do most of the talking.

I appreciated his honesty in a better late than never sort of way. Hearing him tell his story was heartbreaking, and as much as I wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be all right, I knew I couldn’t do that. What he’s going through right now, it’s his cross to bear, and I can’t be there for that, which is why—as hard as it was to do—I had to leave. I know he didn’t expect that because
I
didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to be that strong. Grant’s always had a way about him that makes me weak in the knees with a simple look, but not this time.

“Wow,” Tito smiles after I’m finished with everything. “Good for you, baby doll.”

“Yeah,” I beam. “Good for me, right?”

I look at him, feeling quite proud of myself for doing what was necessary, but it’s then I remember how much I fucking miss that man, and as my bottom lip begins to quiver, Tito reaches out his arms and I bury my face in his chest, letting out the emotions I’ve been carrying around since feeling Grant’s lips on mine one more time, hoping that it wasn’t the last.

“Shhh,” he whispers, rubbing tiny circles on my back.

“It’s not fair,” I sob.

“Life’s not fair, honey, but you’ll get through this. It’s just going to take some time.”

“Then what?”

“Well, either you two will find your way back to one another, or you won’t, but I am positive about one thing.”

I pull away, swiping at my eyes to ask, “What’s that?”

Tito shrugs. “You’ll always have me.”

His lip tugs up into a sympathetic, lopsided grin, causing my tears to turn to laughter. I wrap my arms around him and give him a tight squeeze, feeling very thankful to have a friend like him in my life.

“I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through all this without you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he jokingly muses. “Probably would have thrown yourself into the East River.”

“Ew, gross. Give me some credit, I would’ve at least made it the Hudson.”

“Coffee?” he asks, jumping up from the couch.

“Definitely,” I smile.

While Tito goes into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot, I sit and think about how much it took to say goodbye to Grant. I like the feeling of standing on my own two feet. I mean, I know I’ve been doing it since I moved to New York, but there’s something to be said for not letting the feelings you have for someone cloud your judgment, and for the first time in a month it really feels like I’m thinking clearly.

And with that comes another thought. A thought I can’t help but laugh at because it sounds absolutely absurd. I couldn’t possibly do something like that, could I?

“Uh oh,” Tito cautions upon seeing my face a short time later as I mull everything over.

He hands me my mug. “No uh oh,” I tell him.

“No? I know that look, and that look looks like an uh oh.”

Sipping my coffee, I stare devilishly over my cup at Tito as my brain works to process this diabolical plan.

“Oh Lord,” he says. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

“Where’s your laptop?” I ask.

“In the bedroom. Why?”

I set down my cup and rush to grab the computer, bringing it back out and balancing it on my knees. Once it’s powered up, I roam over to Google and start a search. Tito looks on anxiously over my shoulder, his pinkie drumming the side of his cup.

My typing comes easily. Practiced fingers rush furiously over the keys. Entering, deleting, entering again. I can feel my pulse rate quicken the closer I come to finding what I’m looking for.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” I chide. “Almost got it.”

I hit enter one last time, and give a deep, nervous breath before turning the screen toward Tito so he can see what I have brewing. His eyes peruse the page before snapping up to meet me, and when he sees the expression on my face, his mouth widens into the same, wicked grin I have on mine.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.”

- 28 -

Grant

Abel pulls into the parking garage at Johns Hopkins and finds a space near the entrance. As he kills the engine, I sit and take a deep breath, feeling the effects of the three-hour drive now that we’ve stopped. I’ve had time to digest everything Raven said, and she’s right: I do still have a lot of things to work through, and all of them rest upstairs in the neurosciences critical care unit.

“We’re here, sir,” Abel nudges, turning in his seat to look at me.

“Thank you,” I answer, catching his eye.

Other than Alan—and now Raven—he’s the only person that knows the truth about my past. Abel just isn’t my driver, or my bodyguard, he’s my friend, and though he’s a man of few words, the words he does speak are always taken to heart.

“Any advice?”

He sits stoically, his wise eyes betraying nothing—as usual. I swear, if he ever decided to leave my service to become a card player, he’d win the World Series of Poker his first time out, and though I haven’t said anything to him regarding the reason for this sudden road trip, we both know why I’m here.

Abel clears his throat and I lean forward, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Do you love Miss Raven?” he asks.

I flinch, not expecting him to answer my question with a question, and certainly not one about Raven. I know he finds her spunk amusing, but just knowing she’s on his mind at a time like this tells me that he’s given her considerably more thought than I first assumed.

“Yes,” I answer honestly. “I love her.”

“And does she love you?”

I fidget in my seat, not wanting to speak for Raven. Not after what I did.

“Abel, I asked for your advice, not for—”

“Because if she does love you, then know that while loving someone gives you courage, being loved by someone also gives you strength. That’s my advice to you, sir.”

I pause, my mouth hanging open as his words sink in. Well, not
his
words. They’re actually a quote by the Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu. Abel knows I know this, but it doesn’t make their meaning any less impactful.

I glance away, looking out the window and thinking just how much I do love Raven. It’s a love that has driven me crazy over these last couple of months. A love that has brought me to my knees, and lifted me to heights I never thought I’d achieve again.

And while I don’t know about giving me courage considering my recent actions, I know the way Raven feels about me does provide strength.

Hopefully it’s enough.

“Thank you, Abel,” I say, opening the door to the SUV.

He nods. “I’ll be here when you’re ready, sir.”

Walking through the garage toward the elevators, my focus shifts from the love I have for Raven, to a different kind of love. One that perhaps was once like the feelings I have now, but has since receded into the annals of my heart like the kind of love you have for someone from long ago. You think of them fondly, can remember vividly the good times, and while they may no longer be in your life, your heart flutters when you recall time spent together in youthful fashion.

That is the kind of love I have for Amanda, and it’s also the kind of love I know will never disappear from my soul because no matter what’s about to happen, her and I will always be connected.

Stepping through the elevator doors, I rise up, landing on the NCCU to be greeted by one of her nurses—a middle-aged, petite woman named Rachel, who was there when Amanda was first brought in. Her face is framed by caramel colored locks, and her eyes are red as she dabs at them with a tissue.

“Mr. Huffman,” she sobs. “We’re ready for you.”

I take her by the hand and lead her toward Amanda’s room. There are 24 beds on this floor, with my wife’s being secured in a private space made available only to those I’ve either heavily background checked, or those I’ve heavily bought. Either way, the people looking after her have stayed silent all these years, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Stepping past the threshold, my eyes come to rest first on Doctor Archibald, the head of the NCCU. He’s looked after her since day one, doing his best to make her comfortable. The look on his face says it all. He’s sorry.

So am I.

“Grant,” he extends his hand, which I take with solemn sadness.

“Charles. How is she?”

“Ready,” he answers. “She’s in no pain, we’ve stopped all foods and fluids, removed her IV lines; now all that remains is the ventilator.”

I look to Amanda for the first time. My chest expands, and I emit a sound that vaguely registers in my ears as the emotion overwhelms my heart.

Archibald squeezes my hand tighter. “We’ll leave you two alone. Take as long as you need, Grant.”

He releases his grip and guides Rachel out of the room, closing the door behind them.

I approach Amanda’s bedside, taking a seat next to her delicate frame outlined in thin blankets. The small tube coming from her mouth leads to the machine that’s been keeping her alive since her brain shut down. I asked for this—for her to be kept alive—until I was ready to say goodbye.

Taking her by the hand, I feel the softness of her skin against mine as I stare at her face. After all these years she’s still exquisite, and I reach to brush a golden lock from her forehead. The feel of her hair breaks me, and my tears come easy now, leaking down my cheeks to wet the material of my jeans.

When I look at her, I don’t see the frail, fragile woman she’s become, but rather the young, vibrant girl I fell in love with when I was five, even before I knew what love was. I see her smile, I see the way she looked at me from across the room on the night of her sixteenth birthday. I see the passion in her eyes the first time we made love.

I see all of those things, and more, including the one moment that took her spirit, and shattered my heart.

A moment I caused.

A moment I’ve been running from all these years, only to come full circle and face it head on. Face what I did, and face what I’m about to do.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob, holding her hand tighter.

Then I lie down next to Amanda, cradling against her before burying my nose in her neck, remembering the way she smelled on the first day of senior year. Like vanilla and Pantene.

“I’m sorry,” I moan again, feeling the tightness in my chest increasing with each desperate gasp for breath. “I’ve never been able to tell you that, but I want you to know, Amanda, how much I’ve regretted that day since it happened. If I could go back and do it all again—left the next day, left a little later—I would. I’d reset the clock and lose everything, if it meant spending one more second with you.”

I throw my arm around her chest. A chest rising and falling in slow, mechanical breaths, with lungs being supported by a machine, rather than the beating of her heart.

“But I can’t do that,” I whisper quietly as my tears begin to subside. “I can’t do that because as much as I still love you, there’s someone else. I think you’d like her, Amanda. Her name is Raven, and she’s full of life, like you once were, and she makes me feel…full. She makes my heart feel full, like you once did, and I hope that wherever you are—wherever you’re going—you can look down on us and be happy, because that’s all I want for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, is to be happy.”

I wipe my eyes and sit up, clutching onto her hand one more time, committing to memory the warmth of her skin, and the light that despite all she’s been though, still remains on her tired face. Then I lean over, and press my lips to hers, remembering with a tear what it was like to kiss her, knowing I’ll never get to ever again.

“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, hoping Amanda can hear me. “I always will.”

Easing myself off the bed, I walk regretfully over to the other side of her, and stare down one last time at my wife before I turn off the life support, and she’s gone forever.

- 29 -

Raven