His Four Poster Bed (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 2) (18 page)

I awoke with a blanket tucked under my chin. I sat up in a panic the memory of the night rushing over me in a sick wave. Marco. The Explosion. Theo Manhattan. The clock on the wall read 5:00 a.m. I jumped to my feet and almost tripped over Theo’s legs. He’d stretched out on the ground by the door sleeping on a pile of blankets to form a make-shift bed.

I stood perfectly still and willed myself to breathe before sinking back onto the couch shaking.

Marco was dead.

The thought hit me like a punch in the stomach. Grief, cold and aching seeped into my bones. I rocked back and forth slowly in my seat, biting my lip to try and keep the tears at bay.

I heard a muffled ringtone and realized my phone had slipped into the cushions of the couch.

I dug it out and answered, my voice cracking. “Hello . . .”

“You’re alive,” Shea gasped, choking on tears. “Holy crap, you’re alive.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Marco . . .”

“I know what happened,” Shea said. “It’s all over the internet. I’m so sorry Odessa. I thought you were onboard too. When I couldn’t find you.”

I glanced at my call list, I had slept through fifteen missed calls.

“I was supposed to be onboard,” I said, the memory of Marco turning me away still stung. But if Marco had allowed me to go with him, I’d be dead in the waters of Puget Sound too. “There was a change of plans . . . Marco told me not to go with him.”

“Well, thank God,” Shea said. “Where are you now? I’ll come get you. I’ve been calling hospitals, the police, no one has been able to give me anything useful.”

“I’m at an art gallery near the marina. It belongs to Theo Manhattan. He took me in last night.”

That’s when I noticed that Theo had woken. He stood and stretched his hands skyward eyes squinting as he yawned. He gave me a tentative smile.

“Well, I don’t know who he is or why that’s a good idea,” Shea said. “Why didn’t you call me? I’m coming to get you.”

“I can drive you home,” Theo offered, picking up a set of keys. “I need to head downtown anyway.”

“I’ll be home soon. Theo will drive me,” I told Shea.

“Who is this Theo guy? You are probably in shock still. Please let me come get you.”

“It’s okay. Theo is a friend,” I said. I couldn’t explain it but as much as I loved Shea I needed to be with someone who would let me sit in silence. It wasn’t totally logical but in a very short time I felt as though Theo and I had shared more than just an awkward evening of conversation. Shea meant well but she would want to talk and ask questions. There would be so many questions that I could not answer.

“I’m okay Shea,” I said. “Well, I’m not okay, but I’ll be home soon. All right?”

“Okay, text me as soon as you get here.”

I hung up and exhaled as Theo placed a fresh cup of tea on the table beside me.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry for inconveniencing you.” I glanced around the room noticing a framed picture of the woman with the red hair that had been in the condo. “Please tell your girlfriend, I can’t remember her name, I’m so sorry. Tell her that I did not mean to keep you all night. I hope she . . .”

“She won’t be worried,” he interrupted.

“Well, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You won’t. Grace is dead,” Theo said, standing perfectly still. I had a feeling that if he moved he might crack into a million pieces.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. Theo shared my grief and pain because he lived it. “I didn’t know . . .”

“She died last week,” he said, eyes glazed. “A car accident on the Aurora bridge. I was at the wheel.”

I said nothing knowing there were no words for his pain. There were no words for my pain either. We shared this bitter knowledge.

“It happened on a Tuesday evening. I’ve been staying here ever since.” He gestured to the tiny room where we had spent the night.

“You live here,” I said, noticing how he had already folded up his make-shift bed and placed it in a cupboard. There was a cup with a toothbrush on a table near the bath beside a box of unopened crackers.

“I can’t go home,” he said. “It’s our home. I don’t have a home anymore. I’m sorry, you have got a lot on your mind, you don’t need to hear about this now.” He jingled his keys. “Shall we get going.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, grateful to think about someone besides myself for a moment. “Are you allowed to live here?”

“Bloody hell, no,” he said, his accent normally so light and charming had a bitterness to it. “I’ll stay as long as I can. I don’t know what to do exactly.”

“Neither do I,” I said, shrugging as my eyes filled with tears.

“I am sorry for your loss and mine,” Theo said. “I would undo it if I could, take away all of our pain. But I can say that talking to you has made me feel less alone. I am grateful to you for letting me help you.”

“Grateful we are both broken creatures you mean.” I gave a half laugh.

“Life has tried to break us,” he said. “I don’t think you are a broken creature though. Me maybe, but not you. You are strong. I sensed it from the moment I saw you and Marco together. It takes a strong woman to steal the heart of a man like him.”

My heart stung at the mention of Marco’s name. “I don’t feel strong.”

“Well you are,” he said. “And if you will indulge me one more bit of wisdom.”

“Yes?”

“You need to eat,” he said, smiling.

“Oh my God, you sound like my friend Shea, always going on about nutrition and low blood sugar,” I said, managing a weak smile.

“I’m not going to force eggs and rashers on you.”

“Rashers, really? You English and your bloody breakfasts.”

“I’ll settle for a coffee and a scone,” he said. “I’ll take you home if you agree to eat and see your doctor today. You need to talk to someone about what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I said, feeling like a child. “Maybe you, I could talk to you.”

“Fine then,” Theo said. “Coffee and conversation. Let’s get you home.”

I held a coffee in one hand and scones for two in a tidy white bag. Theo drove me home in his car, a restored red mustang. I sat beside him wondering why I trusted him. I barely knew him but I felt safe beside him. Clutching my latte, I sipped the coffee knowing I needed food and sleep. Sleep I craved mostly for the escape. I longed to pop a pill and close my eyes to the pain of Marco’s death.

“It’s here,” I said, directing Theo to park in front of The Holiday.

“It’s charming,” he said, looking towards the ivy colored brick. The vacancy sign was out again advertising the apartment next door to mine.

“I don’t think I can go home,” I whispered. “Marco and I spent one of our last night’s in my apartment.”

Theo nodded and exhaled. His agreement unspoken I still knew he understood. “Your friend lives here as well?” He asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“How about we go upstairs, get a few of your things and we find her,” his voice was so even so comforting. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

I nodded in agreement and took his arm when he offered it to me. We walked upstairs. I froze when we reached the hallway on the third floor. My tiny studio apartment was at the far end of the hall, it felt miles away. We walked towards it arm in arm. My chest constricted with every step.

When we reached the open door of the vacant, two bedroom apartment next door I panicked and bolted inside.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t go back to my apartment,” I blurted. I dropped my hands to my knees and leaned forward lowering my head. I was afraid I might pass out. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Theo said. “You don’t need to go back if you don’t want to.”

“Promise?” I said, smiling up at me.

“I promise.” Theo looked up and down the empty hallway of the vacant unit. He smiled what looked like a genuine smile. “This is a nice place,” he said, turning to walk down the hall.

“You want to live here?” I asked, my heart pounding as I followed Theo into a large oversized living room with a gorgeous chandelier in the center of the room. The windows were bigger here, the kitchen more spacious and there were two large bedrooms on opposite sides of the room. I was half joking but then suddenly I wasn’t. “Seriously, you should live here, we should I mean.”

Theo looked at me, his brow wrinkling. “I’m not sure I understand you.”

“You have nowhere to live and I can’t go home,” I said, my voice getting more animated with every statement. “Why not? I can’t handle any big changes right now, but I could handle this. I could handle moving here. I need a change but not too much of one.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You barely know me,” he said.

“I need a friend, Theo,” I said, taking both his hands in mind and leading him underneath the sparkling crystal chandelier.

He nodded and looked around the space exhaling. “It seems a bit mad.”

“Of course it’s mad, but we’re both in love with ghosts, where else would you have us go?” I asked, tears filling my eyes.

“If you still feel this way in a week I’ll consider it,” Theo said, grinning. “You shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

“I’m not changing my mind,” I said.

“Right, we’ll see then,” he said, looking around the room. “It is a beautiful space.”

“Thank you,” I said, still holding his hands in mine. There was a moment when I gazed into his pale blue eyes and wondered if we would be more to each other, but I knew from the start that Theo Manhattan and I were friends and not lovers. We were here to help each other heal nothing more.

“Show me the second bedroom then,” Theo said.

One week to the day later, we both moved in.

I got into the habit of working late, very late. Dr. Mike successfully advocated to open our study to more patients. There were countless cases to evaluate and enroll in the new protocol. We continued to succeed. We continued to save lives. When I looked into the eyes of the young patients and saw hope there I felt something close to forgiveness. Marco hadn’t wanted to take me away from the life I loved and maybe he was right. I’d never know, he’d still chosen for me which hurt.

My gut feeling about Theo was right. He was the perfect roommate. We saw each other in the morning and chatted across the kitchen table as we shared our morning coffee, but we rarely saw each other at night. We both spent as much time as possible immersed in our work.

Nights were the most difficult for me. I’d wake in my bed and find myself staring at the ceiling remembering Marco’s touch, the taste of his kiss, the feeling of his muscles under my fingertips. I’d dream about our nights in his four poster bed.

When it was too much I would knock on Theo’s door.

“Rough night?” he’d say, smiling.

“Terrible,” I’d say.

The circles under his eyes told the same story.

And then he’d take my hand and we’d sit side by side on the couch watching an old movie on cable TV. We were friends and helped each other carry our grief.

About a month after the accident, I came home to see a delivery notice tacked to the door of my old apartment. I froze and stared at the pink slip. It flapped against the door as if waving at me.

No one had moved in yet.

The delivery was probably for me.