Sure, it’s unnerving to meet new people and see the numbers in their eyes, but I’ve made leaps and bounds in my progress over the past three weeks in that regard. So, surprisingly, that’s not why my stomach feels like I just swallowed a drum of battery acid. At least, not the main reason.
He scoops up my long, thin fingers—which are finally free of bruising and swelling from my fall at the winery—and lifts them to his mouth, kissing the knuckles on one hand and then the other before releasing them. His calm and confident demeanor helps to settle me somewhat, but it’s his gentle-giant touch that truly prevents me from losing my mind.
“Do you remember when you were scared before we went paragliding in Italy and I asked you if you trusted me?” he questions.
“Yeah.” I nod as a small smile ghosts across my lips at the incredible memories from that day. From the breathtaking views I had while tandem flying over the Dolomites at sunrise, to the mind-blowing orgasms Tavian treated me to under the canopy of stars that night, it’s a day I’ll never, ever forget.
He grins, too, probably recalling the same parts of that day I just did. “And do you still trust me?”
Another nod. “Of course, I do. Even more so.”
“Then believe me when I say there’s not a single person here who thinks you’re to blame for anything,” he implores. “To anyone I give a shit about, I’ve been upfront and forthcoming with the truth of what happened before, during, and after the trip. If I thought there would be even a hint of negativity toward you tonight, that person wouldn’t have only been uninvited to this dinner, but they would no longer be a part of my life. Simple as that. And you can add that to your official record, too.”
“Tavian, that’s not necess—”
He cuts me off with a fervent kiss, his fiery lips searing into mine as his sweeping tongue steals away my fears about not being accepted into his inner circle. I want to be a major part of the rest of his life journey so badly it hurts. And he has proven numerous times since we’ve been back, through both words and actions, that he wants that with me, too. I just have to take the next step. The one that leaves my heart vulnerable and exposed.
Width and depth, not length, Lyra. Don’t lose focus.
Our mouths naturally part at the end of the reassuring kiss, and when Tavian pulls back a few inches to look directly into my eyes, his numbers gradually grow fainter, blending into the blackness of his pupils until there’s only a faint tracing of the 042316 left staring back at me. It’s so light I actually have to search for it.
“You good now, Buttercup?”
I nod and offer a demure smile. “Yeah, I’m good now.”
He brushes my hair back away from my face and feathers his lips across my forehead. “All right then. Let’s go rock out this dinner and get back to my place so I can get your ass naked and in my bed where you belong.”
Less than a minute later, we’re strolling hand in hand across the parking lot and up to the front door of the small red-brick building with the giant name “Stan’s Steaks” painted in green across the glass front door. The place looks warm and homey from the outside, like something I’ve seen featured on Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. A kaleidoscope of nervous butterflies continues to flutter wildly in my stomach as we go inside, but the friendly smile on my face is genuine, thanks to the strength and support of the man next to me.
The second we step around the hostess stand and into the open dining room area, the entire roomful of people yell “Happy Birthday!” in unison and then breaks out in hoots and hollers with a round of applause. Before I have time to react or say anything, we are swarmed with bodies, swallowed up with people wanting to greet Tavian and introduce themselves to me.
Smiling face after smiling face flash in front of me so quickly I barely have time to hear their names and shake their hands, much less concentrate on anyone’s numbers—all of which seem to be much blurrier than normal. I meet his cousin, Kasey, who is so pregnant I’m afraid she might have the baby right here at the restaurant tonight, and her husband, Noah. Childhood friends Mike and Danny, both of whom are funny as hell and I like immediately. His trainer, Jake, whose sheer size intimidates the hell out of me. His coworkers, Ben, Lance, and Jason, though I can’t tell you which one is which. And at least a dozen other people with names I don’t remember.
Finally, the one person I’m most anxious about meeting steps in front of me, and before either of us says a word, I know exactly who she is. Tavian and his mom have an uncanny resemblance, from the sandy color of their wavy hair to the endearing dimple in their chin, but nothing can compare to the exact same strikingly bright shade of blue of their eyes. Her numbers—011836—are dim but there, and luckily, before I can dwell on the twenty years she’s going to outlive her son, she wraps her arms around me and engulfs me in a massive hug, greeting me like a long-lost child.
“Oh my God, look at you!” she exclaims while releasing her hold on me. “Even more beautiful than your pictures.”
I grin and nod like an idiot, as if I’m agreeing with her assessment of my appearance and Tavian’s superb choice in a woman, but I can’t help it. I’m just so damn happy. There’s something about her that puts me at ease immediately, much like I am around her son, and I suddenly feel silly for my apprehension before coming inside.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. West,” I say cheerfully, and it feels so damn good to really mean it.
“Please call me Marie. Mrs. West was my mother-in-law, and I hope to God I’m nothing like that old shrew.” Chuckling, she shakes her head and hooks her elbow with mine, leading me away from the group of people who are still gathered around Tavian, waiting to wish him a happy birthday. “Let’s go grab a couple drinks at the bar. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine over there. What would you like? Beer? Wine? A shot of tequila?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “A glass of red wine please. Whatever they have.”
I steal a glance back over my shoulder at Tavian as we make our way across the restaurant, and I’m surprised to find his stare fixated directly on me, ignoring everyone around him. Are you okay? he mouths, worry creasing his brow.
Holding a thumbs up, I nod and smile big then turn back around to listen to his mom tell me about the benefits of drinking a glass of wine a day. Which somehow leads to her telling me about a trip she and her late husband took to Napa Valley in the late ‘90s and then to her favorite episode of I Love Lucy. It’s not until Tavian sidles up next to me nearly thirty minutes later and informs her he’s stealing his “girlfriend” back that she stops talking. And shockingly, I find myself wishing she’d continue with more stories.
Hours pass in a blur. Introductions to other incredibly nice people—including Sammy, Marie’s “friend” who is most definitely more than a friend—a delicious dinner of Philly cheesesteak sandwiches and some sort of potato casserole—though I’ll still tell Adam his is the best—death-by-chocolate cake, and a wine glass that continues to refill itself keep me busy and bubbling over with joy. The party is better than I could’ve imagined as a best-case scenario, and by the time the last guests leave, I’m tipsy on wine and drunk on love for the man we were all here to celebrate.
But I’m not quite ready to tell him yet. I need to find the perfect time. Maybe when I give him his real present later tonight.
“C’mon, Lyra baby, let’s get home,” Tavian says, holding his hand out toward me after we hug his mom goodbye and thank Stan, the owner of the place, one last time. I lace my fingers with his and allow him to lead me out of the restaurant and to his SUV, reveling in the overwhelming happiness that washed over me tonight. Peering up at the night’s sky, I’m surprised to see as many stars as I do, and straightaway, I search out my namesake constellation. She’s not hard to find, especially with the brilliance of her brightest star, Vega, outshining the rest of the visible stars in the sky. Thoughts of my parents waft through my mind, mimicking the light wind that blows through my hair, and for the first
time since I can remember, I think to myself, I hope they’re proud of me.
We stop as we approach the vehicle, and after a short but sweet kiss, Tavian reaches around me to open my door. Only, before I get a chance to step up and slide onto the seat, a black sports car comes flying down the near-empty street and screeches into the lot, slamming on the brakes and skidding to a stop next to us.
Instinctively, Tavian jumps in front of my body, shielding me from the out-of-control car. At least, that’s what I think… until a few seconds later, when a leggy blonde stumbles out of the passenger side and then staggers the five or so feet to where we stand. That’s when I realize it’s her he’s protecting me from, not the four-thousand-pound piece of machinery.
“Happy Birthday, asshole,” she slurs, clearly intoxicated and struggling to stay upright on her feet. “I see you brought the home-wrecking whore with you. Did you tell her about me? The one you fucked over?”
Annie. Oh, shit.
Bristling at her words, I stay frozen like a statue behind Tavian’s tensed back, unable to make eye contact with her. All of the good that happened tonight… all of the progress I made… all erased in a matter of seconds.
“Annie, I don’t know what in the hell you’re doing here, but I think I made it pretty fucking clear when I kicked you out last month that we’re through. Finished. Over for good,” Tavian grates through a clenched jaw. “Now take your ass back inside that car and have whoever it is who brought you here take you home. You’re drunk and making a fool of yourself.”
“You’re the fool!” she screams as she gets up in his face, pointing her finger less than an inch from his nose. “You wanna throw me away for some dying girl you think you can save, go ahead! But when she’s buried six feet in the ground and you can’t find anyone else to put up with you and your crazy numbers, don’t you even think about coming crawling back to me. I hate you, you stupid piece of shit! You ruined everything!”
The air is sucked from my lungs as my heart lurches to a sudden halt. My chin snaps up and I pin her with my stare, my eyes wildly searching her face for clarification of what I think I just heard her say. Dying girl? Six feet in the ground? What the….
“That’s enough! Get the fuck out of here now! You’re the only one who’s dead to me!” Tavian roars in a voice so menacing that even I flinch at the sound.
Startled by his ferocity, she teeters back on her heels as if his words packed a physical punch. Tears well up in her eyes, but before any spill over, she spins dramatically—and gracelessly—on her heel, and then scurries back to the car without another word. With a slam of the door, the car speeds away just as quickly as it drove up, almost as if it was never here. Like the last several minutes never happened.
But it was. And they did.
And I’m left wondering what the fuck she’s talking about.
Tavian’s dying.
Not me.
Right???
We aren’t both… It’s not possible… Surely he can’t… The odds of that are…
“We aren’t an accidental meeting of souls, Lyra. Trust the timing of your life.”
TAVIAN
08.08.15
I have jumped out of an airplane while flying twelve thousand feet in the air. I have swum with a shiver of tiger sharks in the Caribbean Sea. I have climbed to the peaks of both Mt. Rainier and Mt. Kilimanjaro, driven a Formula 1 car over 200 mph, and come face-to-face with a bear that could’ve taken me out with one swipe of his enormous paw. Hell, I’ve survived one of the deadliest terrorist attacks in the world’s history.
But I’ve never been as scared as I am right this second.
My fingers wrap around the steering wheel and I squeeze the smooth gray leather so tightly I won’t be surprised if I leave permanent indentions. I’m desperately grasping for clarity in the situation, but I can’t hear any thoughts over the blood whooshing through my ears and my heart hammering out a bass line of dread against my ribs.
In the passenger seat, Lyra’s hands are clasped in her lap, her knuckles white, and her knees trembling. She’s staring straight ahead through the windshield at the side of the brick building, and the blank expression on her face reminds me of when we first met. When she hid her emotions behind a protected fortress of cold stone.
Neither of us has said a word since Annie blew in, dropped the bomb of all bombs, and left. As I floundered in my head trying to think of something to say in the seconds following her departure, Lyra simply turned around, got in the SUV, and closed the door in my face. Leaving me with no choice but to get in myself and face the music.
“I’ll explain everything. I just don’t want to talk about it here,” I finally manage to croak out as I start the engine and fasten my seat belt.
She doesn’t respond or react, and even though I want so badly to demand that she say something, anything, I give her the space and time she needs. Well, as long as that falls within the twenty or so minutes it’s going to take for us to get home. I can’t have her shut me out now. Not after what we’ve gone through to get here.
The bright lights of the busy city on a Saturday night whizz by through the windows as I drive on autopilot to my apartment building. I try to organize my thoughts and plan out my explanation. I don’t want to lie, but chances are she’s going to think I’m fucking crazy if I tell her about the numbers. Then, on the remote chance she actually believes me, she’ll then know her time is drawing near, which is the absolute worst message you can give anyone. Ever. And I’m going to deliver that bombshell to the woman I love.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
No matter what, just when everything was beginning to feel nearly perfect, it’s all about to change. With her. With me. With us… if there still is an us after tonight.
I pull into my assigned parking spot in the garage and, before I can even turn off the ignition, Lyra’s seat belt is off and she’s hopping out, not waiting for me to open her door like she usually does. A low, frustrated grumble escapes as I hurry and stalk to catch up to where she waits by the elevator.
“Don’t do this,” I growl as my right arm circles her thin waist and hauls her up against me. “Not yet. At least hear me out.”
She doesn’t pull away, which I take as a good sign, but her refusal to talk worries me. I need to know what she’s thinking.
The elevator door opens and I guide Lyra into the small space, keeping her tucked into my side the entire time, even as we exit on my floor. With every step down the hall to my apartment, my desperation level rises and I fight to maintain control of my desire to strip her down and fuck her until she forgets about everything else except how fucking perfect it is when we’re together. How we belong together, no matter what.
I unlock the door and usher her inside to the never-been-sat-on couch, and then take a deep breath for courage before beginning the hardest conversation I’ll ever have in my life. I need more than prayers right now; I need a miracle.
With us sitting side by side, angled to face each other, I gather her hands in mine and look directly into her stormy blue eyes. “Lyra, I don’t know how to—”
“Why did she say I was dying?” she cuts me off, her tone sharp. “What did you tell her? Did you lie to her as a reason to break up with her?”
My stomach clenches as I shake my head. “No, I didn’t lie to her. I… I accidentally said something I shouldn’t have when she and I were in the middle of our big fight, the night I kicked her out.”
“You accidentally told her I was dying?” she screeches as her face twists up in confusion. “Why would you say that? Even if I was—”
“We’re all dying, Lyra. Every single one of us,” I remind her. “No promised days, remember?”
She nods, but argues, “Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. She made it seem like I was dying soon. Like any day now.”
I swallow hard and lift her hands to my mouth, kissing her knuckles while I prepare myself for what’s about to come.
&nb
sp; Here goes nothing.
“I know this is going to sound crazy, baby, but please try to keep an open mind and believe me when I say I’m telling you the truth.” I pause to make sure she’s with me, that she’s really listening, and then continue. “Ever since I was a little kid, from the time I can remember, I have been obsessed with numbers. Not surprising I guess, considering what I study and teach, but it goes deeper than that.”
Her spine straightens and her eyes grow wide with intrigue. And now, her hands are gripping mine as tightly as mine are hers. “Deeper how?”
“I… I…,” I frantically search for the words.
“Just say it, Tavian,” she urges, leaning in slightly. “What is it?”
“When I look in people’s eyes, I see numbers—numbers that mean something important. A date,” I blurt out in a single breath, still not ready to use the word death.
Lyra gasps and her jaw drops at my confession, the color draining from her face. Her hands begin to shake in mine, and within a couple of seconds, the tremors spread over her entire body. With tears pooling in her eyes, she looks at me with more vulnerability than I’ve ever seen from her before. And it breaks my fucking heart.
Just as I move to wrap her in my arms and pull her in my lap, Lyra suddenly jumps up from the couch and rushes over to the kitchen, frantically rummaging in the drawers. I watch her for a moment, caught off guard by her unexpected reaction, then push to my feet and join her.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, blocking the entrance to the kitchen with my frame.
“Pen and paper,” she replies without looking up. “Don’t you have a junk drawer with that kind of stuff in it?”
I cross my arms over my chest, not sure if I like where this is going. Why isn’t she asking me about how the numbers are important? Or how it ties in to what Annie said? Something’s off.
“Not in here,” I reply with a twinge of agitation in my tone. “Why do we need paper right now? We were in the middle of a pretty damn important conversation.”