Charity's Passion (34 page)

He's standing up in the ceremonies as family with Marissa. There are a few of her other relatives here, a distant Great Uncle and a few seconds cousins, but they gratefully take a second chair to Justin. He was closer to Lena than any of them, and everyone knows it.

Marissa is grateful to have his help; she's no closer to the rest of them than her cousin was. She had Lena and her floral shop—now she only has the shop.

We tried to have another florist take over our wedding, but Marissa almost lost her shit. It's the last thing she will be able to do for her; knowing that, we can't take it away.

Agreeing with me on that decision has been the only wedding talk Justin and I have done.

Everyone else here is from the office or the team, people that worked alongside Lena and knew her well, loved her. I'm hoping that gives some comfort to Justin. They pay their last respects at her coffin and then continue on to Marissa and Justin, leaving their condolences.

Once they're all gone, I watch Marissa and Justin taking turns with their final goodbyes.

How is this really happening?

Less than week ago Lena had a whole life ahead of her with a man she adored. It scares the hell out of me how quickly things can change.

Maybe they've changed already.

I walk my parents and Justin's mother away from the grave to give the two people that loved her the most some privacy.

"It's such shame; she was so young and beautiful," my mother says.

We were able to tell most of the truth this time. The people here know Lena took her own life at the death of the man she loved, and that he was murdered because of his company.

Those closest to us understand the weight of that on Justin. Part of me hates her for doing this to him, and I have to keep reminding myself that she never meant to hurt Justin at all; this was about her own insurmountable grief, and if I lost Justin like that I don't know that I wouldn't make the same choice.

My parents walk ahead toward their car with Trisha and Garrett, but Nicolette stays behind, waiting for everyone to be out of range. "Charity, I know this isn't easy, and I don't mean for the obvious reasons," she says.

I act like I'm don't know what she means.

"I can see how this is affecting your relationship with my son, and how worried you are about that. I may not have raised him, but moms still know things. I'm sure your mother is all over it too—she's a sharp lady."

"We're fine," I defend, still trying to deny what she obviously knows.

She touches my arm. "You’re scared, and I see why. He's cut you off verbally and emotionally, and you're not sure if it's permanent or not."

I stare blankly, shocked and praying that she has some insight.

Justin's mother smiles and continues, "It's not permanent." She touches my arm again. "It will run its course; just be patient. After his father, this sort of thing is much harder on him and he has no idea how to handle it. He'll find his way back to you."

"I hope you're right," I admit to her. "Before me, Justin was not in a great place. Because of his father's suicide, he'd built a wall around his heart."

"And you tore it down—it's gone."

"Those kinds of walls are easily rebuilt," I tell her.

Her silence agrees with me.

We both see Justin coming. "Be strong; he loves you and needs you," she whispers.

Justin greets me with a small perfunctory smile and robotically grabs my hand. We have a lunch now for everyone; it's the last part of this awful day.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

Justin only nods.

FOR DAYS NOW WE'VE
barely interacted. My hopes that things would get better between us after Lena's funeral were very wrong; nothing has gotten better at all.

And that makes it worse.

Justin is slipping further back into his own head, and our wedding day is approaching like a fast moving freight train. I'm afraid that he doesn't want me and our life anymore, but even more afraid to ask him about it.

What if the answer is no?

Someone knocks on our door and I get up to answer it, finding Garrett waiting on the other side.

"Is he home?" Garrett asks. It's obviously important, his face is stern and eerily JP-like.

"Yes. Come on in."

Justin is sitting outside on the porch near the hot tub nursing a Tito's and tonic. All of its ice melted a while ago while I watched. He offers his brother the same sad, bullshit smile he's been giving me.

At least I'm not special.

I walk Garrett out to him.

"You want something to drink?" Justin asks before Garrett even says hello.

Garrett sits down not far from him, getting comfortable. "No, I'm good. I need to talk to you about something, and it's a bit of a sensitive subject."

"Sensitive for who?" Justin asks.

"You," Garret says confidently.

Fuck!
This is going to be about Lena, and it’s going to make Justin crawl deeper inside his own head. I wish I'd known that before I let him in.

"Just spit it out," Justin says, not having the patience for him—for anything anymore.

I see him tightening up and I go sit at his side and grab for his hand. The second my hand touches his, Justin moves his away.

My heart cracks a little.

It was obvious enough that Garrett saw it happen. Our eyes meet for a moment and I can feel the weight of his pity.

I hate that almost as much as I appreciate it.

That's about enough of this shit for me; if Justin is changing his mind, he's going to have to own it. There's less than two weeks until it's too damn late to back out. I love him, but I need to know what's going on in his mind this time.

"We have one of the men that killed Terrence," Garrett says.

That gets the attention it deserves from both of us. One again I throw myself to the back burner. This is much more important.

"Is he giving up what he knows, or is that why you're here?" Justin asks, oblivious to everything else. "You need my help?"

Garrett chuckles, "No, I can handle that—you taught me how to make people talk."

I wish he'd get to his point.

"So what do you need from me?" Justin asks.

Garrett leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "Because I'm going to kill him, and before I do—I want you to be sure that you don't want to do it yourself."

Justin understands. He sits back and thinks, swirling his drink in his hand.

"No," he says at last. "You take care of it. I'm done with that; I meant it when I said it."

"Okay," Garrett says, leaning back again. "I just wanted to be sure."

Justin finally tosses the rest of his drink into his mouth and swallows, and then he puts the empty glass down on the table in front of us. "You need to be careful with this one, stay invisible—remember who you're fucking with."

"Absolutely. I'm doing this fast, before they go into hiding, but very quietly. I don't want anyone knowing where this is coming from," Garrett says.

I'm glad he's being humble; no ego trip or glory hunting, just get in and get out. He's going to run Panther the right way.

Garrett glances at me again and his eyes ask me what is going on between Justin and me. I use my eyes to send a message back—
I have no fucking clue.

Suddenly I feel like I'm going to burst. This is way more fear and stress than I want to feel in my life right now.

I stand up, "Listen, while you guys talk I'm going down to see Trisha."

Garrett smiles, but I don't get a thing from Justin.

When I reach the door I hear Garrett say, "Brother, it's your business—but what the fuck are you doing?"

Yeah, please find that out for me.

I close the door behind me and press the elevator button like an angry maniac. The beeping gets close and the doors open to take me down. Before the car begins moving, I can feel the start of the trembling in my body, my nerves cracking under the pressure.

The hallway is usually empty and quiet, but today I've caught the building maintenance vacuuming. She smiles at me politely and I try to do the same; I'm not sure how well it worked.

I ring Trisha's doorbell and wait, hoping she's home. The handle turns and clicks, thank Christ!

Trisha swings the door open and here I am on the verge of tears.

"Oh honey, come on in," she insists.

I practically jog into her apartment. "He's an asshole!"

"They all are, girl, but what did he do? Is he still being cold to you?"

"You knew?" I ask.

"It's kinda obvious. You two are usually so wrapped up in each other that people want to vomit on you, but lately he seems...lost."

That's such a good way to describe it. "Exactly. He's a lot like he was when I first met him, and I do get it; I was there with him and saw what he saw. My world dropped out on me and she was much closer with Justin. Part of him died," I say.

"And that probably makes it harder in some ways. You think you can't really complain about it without looking like a mean bitch."

"Right!" I love that she understands.

We walk into her kitchen. I don't have any reason to yet, but I'm already feeling a bit better.

"I'm completely stuck and I want the man I was supposed to marry to actually show up."

As Trisha listens, she's opening a bottle of wine and pouring us glassfuls without bothering ask if I want some. "I get that you had to give him a few days to recover, and that the funeral and all that would bring it up for him again, but now it's long enough. You're not just anybody, and you're not just looking for attention. There's a legitimate problem in your relationship, a relationship about to be confirmed to last a lifetime, so it's as important as anything else that he's feeling right now. And he needs to let you know what's going on."

Trisha passes me one of the glasses and we both drink. She grabs the bottle and brings it with us to her couch.

I'm going to get comfortable; I think I'm going to be here awhile.

"Garrett's up there with him right now, I think trying to find out what's wrong with him," I tell her.

"Good. And you're down here with me. Both of you can use the break from each other to ask yourselves just what needs to happen right now. Figure out what your line is and draw it."

She's absolutely right. Listening to her seems to be screwing my head back on, so I listen for hours.

I notice Justin hasn't tried reaching me, and I'm fine with it. That bottle of wine drained along with its buddy and we started watching episodes of "
Orange is the New Black
" until my eyes won't stay open. Somebody needs to kill Vee soon, she's a dangerous bitch.

WHEN I WAKE UP
the next day I have my confidence back and I feel damn good about it. Justin is going to answer to me today, and if he's smart, it will be the answer I want. I love and adore him, but if he wants to keep me he's gotta show me what he's made of. I thank Trisha and head back upstairs in the elevators.

I expect he's going to be mad as hell at me for not coming home last night, although I'm sure he knows where I was the whole time. Tough shit for him—I'm mad that he hasn't been with me for days.

My mood in the elevator reminds me about the time I came up here and smacked the shit out of his face. Maybe I'll do that again.

The elevator doors open and Justin is standing in our doorway waiting for me before I step out. I'm not surprised that he's there, but I am happy to see that his eyes no longer dance away from mine like my gaze could turn him to stone.

"I'm glad you came home," he says softly, moving to one side to let me in. There's something much more normal and concerned about him this morning.

"I want to talk," I say as I pass him. I see him nod understandingly. "That means you have to talk back," I demand. I want him to know this is it, no bullshit.

"Yes, I know. You more than deserve that." He follows me in and closes the door. "Are you hungry; did you eat?"

"I could eat, if you can make some kind of breakfast without fucking it up," I joke. He's laughs lightly, the first I've seen him let out since Lena's death. "I need to clean up and brush my teeth first; I passed out on Trisha's couch after a bottle of wine and I really want to get out of yesterday's clothes."

I didn't take long, and Justin has simple scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee waiting for me. "Thank you," I tell him, sitting at the table across from him.

There's an awkward silence at first, each of us nervous to start I guess, but I'm resolute that I don't want to spend one more day in the dark. I pile the egg on top of my toast so that I can finish faster, taking huge bites until it's gone.

"So," I begin with my full mouth still chewing, "I can't keep doing what we've been doing; I need you too much to be discarded like that. I know what you lost, Justin, but you can't forget that I'm here—"