Endless Love Letter (Love Letter Duet Book 2) (18 page)

O
ne week later
.

I
was a walking zombie
.

I was dead inside.

I didn’t leave the house. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered. I stayed in my room and drowned my pain in liquor. My mother had moved in permanently. Leslie had taken a leave of absence from work and, between them both, they helped Lyra grieve her mother’s loss.

I, on the other hand, did nothing. I couldn’t even fathom to look at my own child.

Fucked up, I know.

But she looked so much like Emilia that it fucking killed me.

Gutted me.

I lay on the bed looking out into the ocean. The sun was out, so it had to be mid–morning or early afternoon. I couldn’t fucking tell. My head rested on the soft mattress, my eyes moved from the ocean to the closet that still held all of Emilia’s belongings. The room was still full of her things, even her scent. I sat there waiting for her to come back at any second. Waiting for her to walk in and tell me it was all a fucking nightmare.

She never came back.

She was gone.

And I was alone.

The door was pushed open, and I sat up. Inebriated, my body swayed. I saw Leslie march over to the bed. “Get up,” she barked, slapping my leg.

“Hmm,” I complained. I dropped back to the bed and closed my eyes. The alcohol in my system made the room spin.

“I’m not kidding, Weston. Get the fuck up.” Her voice was louder and laced with anger. “You need to shower, you stink, and I’m sick and tired of you lying in here all day. You’re a parent and you can’t pretend like you don’t have a responsibility.”

“Les…” I inhaled and looked up at her. “Get out.”

“No!” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyebrows were pressed together and the anger coursed through her eyes. “You can’t stay cooped up in here. Lyra needs her dad. You need to eat, and I’m tired of babying you.”

“Nobody’s asking you to take care of me.” I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow.

“Emilia did!” she shouted.

My head snapped towards her. “She did?”

“Yes!” She began to strip the bed. “I promised her that I wouldn’t let you get like this, like her father. I promised her that I wouldn’t let you do to Lyra what her father did to her. So I’m not kidding, Weston. Get. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Leave me alone, Leslie.” I hugged the pillow.

“You’re not the only who lost her.” She yanked the sheets from under me and tossed them in a hamper, then walked over to the window and opened the sliding door to let the fresh ocean breeze inside. “Lyra lost her mother, and I lost my best friend.” She turned and marched back towards me. “So I’m not asking you, I’m telling. Get up, Weston. Or I swear to God, I’m going to literally kick your ass. You didn’t die, she did, so start living.”

I scoffed and pushed myself up. Resting my head on my hands, I sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that easy, Leslie.”

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you have to try.” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “You have to try for Lyra because history has repeated itself. A little girl lost her mother too young. Don’t let her lose her dad, too.”

T
wo weeks after her death
.

I sat out on the deck one late Saturday afternoon, my eyes slowly closing as sleep began to seep in. I had showered more frequently the week’s prior, but I had yet to leave the house. I walked around aimlessly most nights as sleep never came, but I was afraid to sleep, petrified of the nightmares that haunted my soul. I would drift off to sleep and they would invade my mind. They were always the same. Emilia’s last breath leaving her body. No matter how loud I screamed or how hard I tried to stop it, she would always die in my arms. I had lived through that once. I couldn’t relive it again in my dreams.

Jennifer was still working with us. Mostly Lyra. She stated that the insomnia was a normal process in the grieving stages. I didn’t care what stage I was going through. I didn’t care if I ever slept again. I didn’t care about anything. It was a sad reality but it was true. I was numb.

Most days I would stay out on the deck and catch a late afternoon nap while Lyra did homework with Leslie and my mother. I would stare out into the ocean, like Emilia had done so many times, and try to forget about life. I preferred being outside. I was beginning to hate this house but I couldn’t move out. I didn’t want to uproot Lyra from her home, and the house smelled like Emilia.

I loved that smell.

I missed burying my head in the nook of her neck and inhaling her scent.

My eyes were beginning to close when Lyra jumped between my legs. “Daddy.” She giggled. “Look what I did at school today.” She held up the construction paper. “It’s a list of all the books I want to read this summer.”

Fuck! Summer vacation was coming.

I didn’t know what switched inside of me, but I grabbed Lyra under her arms and placed her on the ground in front of me. “Seriously, Lyra, I was trying to take a nap. I’ll look at your school stuff later.” Lyra’s eyes filled with tears and she ran back inside.

My heart ached.

I sat back on the couch regretting what I had just done. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve an absentee father. I was supposed to be her protector.

My hands ran through my hair, and I tugged on the ends. I couldn’t believe that I had done that to her. Grunting, I looked up into the sky. “Can you hear me?” I asked the clear blue sky. I wanted to believe that Emilia was watching me; that somehow she could see me down here suffering, not knowing what to do. “Tell me what to do. Give me some kind of hope because, honestly, I'm lost here. I have no clue how to go on without you.”

I bowed my head and let the numbness due to the pain take over my body. Lying on the couch I closed my eyes. Sleep never came as I waited for Emilia to respond.

O
ne month later
.

Pointless Statement has canceled their tour due to a personal family matter. They apologize for the inconvenience and would appreciate privacy during this time
.

Music died for me the day she took her last breath. I didn’t know if I would ever sing again. It was unfair to the guys, but the music was gone. There was no reason to make it anymore.

I couldn't listen to the radio because it reminded me of her. Instead, I would sit in our music room, the one that Emilia insisted we build. She had transformed our sunroom; my old vinyl records along with some of her fathers were hung on the wall. She had the contractor install sound proof walls and doors so you could blast the music without interrupting anyone else. A Music Hall turntable sat along the wall and a massive suede couch sat across from it. The records were aligned in alphabetical order in custom–made record cases Emilia had ordered. Before she passed away, she would sit in there for hours and listen to an entire album before moving on to the next. That’s the thing with records; they were meant to be heard in their entirety. Her eyes would be closed, a large grin on her face as the music played. She looked so peaceful.

I would sit there after she died and stare at the wall, never having the courage to hit the play button. I didn’t want to know the last song she had listened too.

It’s funny how things work.

Emilia knew me better than I knew myself. She wouldn’t let me walk away. She found a way, even after she was gone, to remind me why I loved music so much.

One night as I sat in my room. Like most days I would sit in there until the sun came up. Sleeping through the night was impossible. That night though, I caught a glimpse of my guitar. It had been sitting in the corner for months. I remembered when I placed it there. I’d come home from the studio and found Emilia throwing up in the bathroom. I remembered that day like it was yesterday, her heaving and coughing had me rushing to her side. I dropped my case to the ground and ran to her. Her little body was hunched over the toilet as she gasped for air, the IP chemo making her violently sick.

That was the last day
I’d
touched my guitar.

It hadn’t moved since.

As I stared at it now, a memory flashed in my head. It was a memory from when Emilia and I first started dating. One little memory that caused so much pain. 

I
walked
into my bedroom and was greeted by the sight of her sitting on my bed, my oversized T–shirt draped over her body. Her hair was damp from her shower, and wild curls spiraled down her chest. My guitar sat between her legs, her hand gripping the neck and the other strumming the cords. She looked so hot in my clothes while holding my guitar.

I had gone to the kitchen to grab a drink and when I returned she had a mischievous look on her face. Her lips were puckered and her eyebrows were high on her head.

“Do you play?” I walked towards her.

“I never really wanted to learn. My father started to teach me, but when everything happened with my mom, we pushed it aside.” She bit her lower lip in the most seductive way, her tongue sliding across her upper lip.

Crawling onto the bed, I knelt behind her. My hand brushed away her long red hair, exposing her neck. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as my lips met her shoulder, her neck, and the tip of her ear. “Do you want me to show you?”

Emilia gasped for air. “Not really,” she murmured.

“How about we play a game?” I kissed her neck and ran my nose along her skin smelling her tantalizing scent. “For every cord you get right, I'll give you a kiss.” I paused and gently bit her neck. “Anywhere you want.” 

Emilia moaned and pushed her back to my chest. “Okay.”

My hand held her fingers. Pressing gently on the strings, I used her right hand to strum the guitar. I showed her each cord twice before I began to question her. 

"A major,” I asked. Emilia pressed her three fingers to the string.

"That's one kiss.” She giggled. 

"B major?" 

Emilia laid her index finger over the guitar, and the remaining three fingers pressed on the strings. "That's two kisses." 

"C major." Emilia giggled and pressed her fingers along the first three frets.

Shit. "I think I'm getting played."

Emilia looked back at me. A sly smile appeared on her face. "That's three, Mr. Carter, and if I remember correctly, it's anywhere I want.” 

"E minor."

Emilia’s body shook with laughter and I knew she had tricked me. My hand gripped the side of her ribs and pressed my fingers to her skin. She squealed and threw her head back.

"I lied!" She continued to laugh. "I know all the cords, I’ve just never played a song." She placed the guitar on the floor and lay back on the bed. I shook my head, not believing how much I loved this girl. 

"It's time to pay up." She held her hand up. "You owe me four kisses."

I moved between her legs. "Tell me where." 

Emilia bit her lower lip. "This is going to be fun." 

Shaking the memory from my head, I walked over to the guitar. I thought about tossing it over the balcony, but it was my grandfather’s guitar. My hand slid across the case before I opened it. My 1949 Gibson looked up at me. Pulling it out of the case for the first time in months, I heard something move inside the body. I shook it slightly and noticed something was sliding along the wood. I flipped the guitar, and a USB fell to the ground.

It was like the many USB’s Emilia had around the house. She had filled most of them with photos and copies of her infinite playlist. She had some that were videos she recorded of Lyra playing. But this one had my name written on it with a black sharpie.

Intrigued, I walked out of the bedroom and straight to the living room. The house was dark. Everyone had been asleep for hours. I turned on the TV and plugged in the USB. I expected pictures of us through the years. Maybe a list of songs she had dedicated to me. To my surprise, Emilia’s face appeared on the screen. I gasped, staring at her beautiful smile. She still had her hair when she recorded this. She still had color under her skin. She looked like my beautiful Emilia. My yellow gel.

Tears made my vision blurry, but I hit the play button on the remote.

Emilia inhaled and smiled. “Weston, my dear sweet loving Weston.” She closed her eyes and shook her head before looking back into the camera. “I can't even properly form the words to describe how much I love you.” Her hand balled in a fist over her chest. “If you're watching this video, I know that I'm no longer there with you, and I'm sorry.” She paused, her eyes filled with tears.

“I hope you found it in your guitar case. I wanted to leave this for you in there as a reminder to never stop playing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How long has it been since you’ve played music, West? You said I was your muse, but please don't let the fact that I’m no longer with you be the reason you give up on music. You have a gift and the world deserves to hear it.” Emilia paused and gave me a sideways grin.

It was the type of grin she did to mask the tears that were going to follow. “You always wrote me invisible love letters, so I wanted to leave something with you. I wanted to leave a part of me for you to have when things got hard. This video is my endless love letter to you because, as long as you need me, I will always be here on this screen letting you know how lucky I was to have met you. When the days are dark, and sleep doesn’t come, I’ll be right here to tell you that it’s okay to be sad but don’t let the sadness take away the light that lives inside of you. I’ll be right here when you want to talk about a song or work or Lyra.” She stopped talking and looked away from the screen.

“I promised myself I wasn't going to cry. That was a lie. You know what the first lie I ever said about you was? That I wouldn’t love you. I swore that I would never fall in love with you but even when I take my last breath I know that will be the biggest lie I have ever told. It was impossible not to be consumed in your love.” Emilia sat back on the chair for a second. Her gaze locked with the camera, and I felt like she was right here with me. One side of her mouth grew into a grin, and she looked up so the tears wouldn’t drip from her eyes.