Paper Dolls (20 page)

I ignored Clay, clenching my jaw together so I wouldn’t be tempted to yell back, and kept walking. I got to the cab and reached out for the door handle.

Clay slammed his body against the door so I couldn’t open it. “Aria, wait.”

“Leave me alone, Clay. I’m going home.”

“I can take you home.”

“I’m not getting in a car with you.”

“I didn’t have a single drink.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Is this guy bothering you, ma’am?” The cabbie had gotten out of the car, a gruff-looking man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper stubble.

“He’s fine. He’s just my boyfriend.” I glared at Clay. “Maybe.”

Clay’s face visibly paled. “Aria−”

“The point is,” I cut him off, “I’m so mad at you I think I might say something I regret. I don’t want to be around you right now. I’m catching a cab home. End of story.”

His lips tightened to a pinch. I thought that he might try to argue with me again. But he didn’t. He turned and strode down the street and disappeared.

He just left. This realisation hit me in the base of my stomach. I had wanted him to leave me alone and now that he had, I realised that’s not what I really wanted. How ridiculous was that?

I slipped into the cab and mumbled my address to the driver. I still couldn’t believe that Clay had just…left. No goodbyes…

As we pulled away from the curb a familiar red Mustang pulled up behind us with a growl. Clay hadn’t left. He had just gone to get his car. He was following me home.

He followed the cab all the way to my apartment and pulled up behind us at the curb. The driver glanced in the rear-view mirror, his thick grey eyebrows pressed down together.

“It’s okay,” I said to him as I paid him. “He won’t hurt me. He probably just wants to continue arguing.”

I got out of the cab and slammed the door, glaring at Clay’s figure through the front windscreen as if daring him to get out. But he didn’t. He just sat in the car, watching me from the shadows. As I walked up my driveway my anger began to flake off my body.

In my apartment, I locked the door behind me. Leaving the lights off, I walked over to the living room curtains and peered out. His car was still there and I could feel his eyes on the window. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I felt him watching. He remained there for another few minutes before the car started and he slowly pulled away.

He just wanted to make sure I got home safely.

My stomach panged. I had secretly hoped that he would follow me, knock on my door and we could just forget about this argument and his secrets. And mine.

I shook my head. I couldn’t move forward without knowing what he was hiding when it was clearly affecting us. When it had clearly wedged a wall between us, preventing us from getting any closer.

What if Clay wouldn’t tell me? What if he refused or continued to put me off? I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t keep living around secrets like they were things to be tripped over. It would drive us apart. Look at what was happening between Salem and me.

I had to prepare myself that I might have to walk away from him. My heart cracked at the thought. Would I be strong enough? I had to be. I had to be strong like Salem, to walk away from someone she loved if it was for the best.

What if he told you? Then you’d have to tell him your secrets…

My blood drained. Could he still love me if he knew what I’d done? If he knew…what I let happen?

10

Can we talk?

I stared at Clay’s text on my phone, sent the morning after the club incident.

Now it was two days since then and I had been moping around in my apartment alone. I hadn’t seen Salem since she last ran out. I alternated between worrying about her whereabouts and worrying over what would happen between Clay and me. Damn them both for tearing me apart.

I stared at the text again. I was going to have to deal with Clay eventually. I couldn’t take this not knowing anymore.

I wrote back and hit send.
You have five minutes.

A knock came on my door. Finally Salem was back. Thank God. She had left her house keys behind again. I found them on her bedside table.

I padded from my bedroom and through the silent living room and opened my front door. But it wasn’t Salem on my threshold.

It was Clay.

And damn him if he didn’t look good wearing stonewashed denim jeans and a light black t-shirt that fit snuggly around his chest and biceps.

“Hi,” he said. His gravelly voice immediately brought prickles to the back of my jaw. I would miss his voice so much if I never saw him again after this. His eyes were shadowed and his hair was a mess. At least he hadn’t slept well either.

“I thought you were going to call.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d drop by instead. Talk to you face to face. I missed looking at you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re going to have to start telling the
truth
if you want me to listen to anything more that you have to say.”

“Okay, okay. I’ve been sitting in my car down the road since I sent my text.”

I blinked at him. “You’ve been sitting in your car for almost two days?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Something like that.”

The air whooshed out of my lungs. That explained why he hadn’t been sleeping well. Had he eaten? Where had he gone to the bathroom? All things that weren’t important right now.

Clay’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he peered past me into the living room. “Are you…alone?”

“Salem’s not here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He face softened with relief. “Can I come in?”

I held open the door and he stepped inside.

I closed the front door behind me and leaned against it. He looked so damn good standing there, his wide back to me, filling up my apartment with his strong presence.

Clay Jagger was here. With me. In my apartment. Alone.

I could feel my resolve wavering, my body clamouring to run over to him and wrap my arms around him and find his stomach under his shirt. Maybe I should have insisted that we go for a walk?

“Nice place,” he said as he stood in the middle of my living room, looking around.

“I didn’t think you were here to talk about my apartment.”

“I’m not.” He spun and gazed at me, his eyes roaming over me. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Clay−”

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

Maybe he was ready to talk? “Why did you get so mad when you thought I was Salem? Start there.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “I thought maybe she had come there to…gloat. To tell me that she’d won.”

“Won what?”

“She’s trying to take you away from me. She promised me she wouldn’t stop until I was out of the picture. You tell me whether you think that’s reason enough to…be wary of her.”

I inhaled sharply. “She wouldn’t.” Salem said those things to him? I couldn’t really believe that. Right?

Unfortunately I could. That sounded just like Salem.

Clay winced. “I didn’t want to say anything to you before. It felt petty to tell on her. Like I was trying to make you pick sides. I’m not trying to do that,” he added quickly.

I nodded. I believed him. “And why…” my throat suddenly felt very thick, “why won’t you sleep with me?”

For a long while he just stared at me, his dark eyes mournful, hesitant. What was he so scared of? “You know my mother is…sick.”

I nodded.

“Do you know what the chance is of a child developing schizophrenia if they have a parent who suffers from it?”

The blood drained from my face. “No.”

“Ten percent chance. Only ten percent, so you’d have to be really unlucky… In men, the symptoms begin to develop in their teens or twenties. When I was eighteen, the same year as my mother was diagnosed, I started…seeing things. Faces. People who weren’t really there. It wasn’t long before I was diagnosed too.”

Oh my God. The memory of his mother’s behaviour flashed before my eyes. Would this be what Clay turned into? Would he one day stop recognising me? Accuse me of being someone else? I swallowed hard.

His face twisted in pain. He seemed to know what I was thinking. He lifted his palms as if to placate me. “I’m not dangerous, I swear. Please don’t make me leave before I explain everything to you.”

I don’t know how I managed to speak, but I did. “Okay.”

“Most sufferers can actually lead normal lives on the right medication and therapy. I’m one of the lucky ones who can still function relatively normally. That’s why I don’t drink, I keep a strict diet and I work out every day, it helps keep me…okay.”

“That’s why you’re seeing a therapist,” I blurted out.

“You know I’m in therapy?”

“Salem…” I trailed off.

A darkness came over his face. “Salem told you. Of course. I’ve caught her following me before.”

Jesus. Salem had been stalking him?

Of course. How else had she found out about the therapist? And Tenielle? Did you really believe that she had just been driving past Clay both times out of sheer coincidence?

And Clay had caught her. He’d probably known all this time that she’d been following him. What must he think? I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. She’s just trying to protect me. I know that’s no excuse but…”

“I know.” He didn’t sound angry. “Sometimes I think maybe you do need protecting from me.”

Suddenly I wasn’t sure whether I should be here with Clay Jagger in my apartment alone. “Do you…do you get violent?”

“Most schizophrenics aren’t violent or aggressive, in fact we’re more likely to be the victims of violence.” He licked his lips. “I’m not going to lie. It’s possible that we can get aggressive if we’re not taking meds and are stuck in a bad delusion. Stress can cause us to relapse, too. When I get stressed, there’s a greater chance for me to relapse. Right now, I’m so terrified of losing you that everything is becoming overwhelming again. I’m getting confused. Sometimes I start mistaking people for someone they’re not. Sometimes I get paranoid that…people are trying to harm me or the people I love.”

Which was why he kept thinking that Salem was trying to take me away from him.

But she is. Deep down, you know she is.

“It’s why I’ve wanted to keep things slow between us,” he said. “It’s why I’ve prevented taking things to the next level, not because I don’t want to. God knows how much I want to. I just needed you to know what you’re in for if you stay with me before we…”

That explained why he was always the one to pull away.

I’m an idiot. I thought he was worried that I was a virgin or it was something petty about how I looked or acted or what I wore.

“I think I’ve been putting off telling you because there’s always a chance that you can’t live with this…with me.” He inhaled deeply and let it out audibly. “I just hope that you can.”

I felt him studying me, trying to garner a reaction. Truth was, I wasn’t sure what to think yet. I was still trying to let it sink in.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I clung to the door behind me to keep myself steady.

“Aria?”

“I need a minute.”

Schizophrenia. He had schizophrenia. There was no cure. He would have to live with it forever. But could I?

Or had he changed to me forever?

I forced my eyes open and looked over at him. He was just as beautiful as I’ve thought him to be. No, he was more beautiful because I knew how strong he was to stand and fight this disease every day.

I knew right then that I loved him anyway. We would find a way to live with this, together.

I realised then what it meant to truly love. Unconditionally.

This was what Salem was talking about. This was what she and I had. She still loved me, despite all the ways I’d failed her. I loved her, despite what she was doing. A part of me filled with a hope. Perhaps Clay could love me despite everything too?

I walked up to him, stopping only when we were toe to toe. I brushed strands of his hair from his forehead and he turned his face so he could muzzle my palm. He breathed my name against my skin, his voice raw and desperate.

I turned his face so he was looking at me. “It doesn’t matter to me if you have an illness. I love you. I’m so happy that you had the courage to tell me. That you trusted me enough to tell me.”

He inhaled sharply and pulled me into him, his mouth consuming mine. This kiss was everything: thank you, I missed you, dear God, I love you all in one. It would have brought me to my knees if he wasn’t holding me up.

When he pulled away we were both shaking, my chest filled with so much emotion that I could barely breathe around my swollen heart. He leaned his forehead down on mine. “You are incredible, Aria. Most women would have run away screaming.”

I grinned. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

He smiled. Then his face became serious. “This is something I will have to live with every day for the rest of my life, Aria. I’m…broken.”

So am I.
“The cracks are how the light inside of you shines out.”

He smiled. “My angel said something like that to me. That day that I told you I had gone to the bridge. I went there just after my diagnosis. I thought it was only a matter of time before I became…”

“Before you became your mother,” I realised.

He nodded. “I couldn’t stand the thought of going crazy. I saw what the disease did to her. It ate her from the inside until she wasn’t my mother anymore, she was just a wild, pained animal wearing her skin and smelling like she used to smell. I went to Mirage Gorge to…to end it.”

Thank God for this hallucination, this angel, otherwise he wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be standing in his arms. I could see even now the affection that shone from his face as he spoke about her.

“This angel you saw… Do you still see her?” Silly girl, jealous of a hallucination.

“No. She’s gone.” His faced clouded with something. “But it’s okay that she’s gone. She led me to you. You’re my angel now. My real life angel.” His nose traced my cheekbone.

“That’s the real reason you call me angel, isn’t it?”