What Lies Beneath

Spying an empty park bench, Will flopped down and decided to give his aching feet a break from their punishment. The shoes he wore to work weren’t exactly designed for long strolls through the city. Hell, he was still wearing his suit minus the jacket he’d tossed aside. He’d accosted Cynthia the minute he walked in the door and then walked out without a second thought to how cold it was tonight. He hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t even checked his phone as it chimed and rang with repeated requests to contact him.

That plane crash was supposed to be their second chance. Her lover and all their other relationship baggage were supposed to be in the past. Just when he’d finally decided to take this chance seriously, she’d ruined it.

The blinking neon lights of the bar across the street from where he’d stopped beckoned Will to come in. He considered going inside and taking the edge off with some expensive whisky, but he knew drinking wouldn’t help the situation. He was never one to just sit back and drown his sorrows. He always took action. And that was what he needed to do now.

Walking around Manhattan in the middle of the night wasn’t going to fix anything. It helped him clear his head, kept him from doing something rash, but the only thing that could help him deal with this situation was probably asleep in their apartment.

Leaping back up after only a few moments rest, Will took the most direct route back to the apartment building. Cynthia had left on the entryway light, but the rest of the apartment was dark. He flipped on the living room lamp, illuminating the carnage that had once been their telephone. Based on the divot in the sheetrock, she’d slammed it against the wall.

Stepping around the plastic and metal bits, he continued down the hallway to their bedroom. He hadn’t set foot into this space since the night she came home from the hospital. His clothes were in the closet of the guest room where he’d been sleeping, so there wasn’t much point. He’d gathered his toiletries that night and had stayed out of her personal space while she adjusted.

Not tonight. Turning the doorknob, the light from the hall cast a beam across the king-size bed. He could barely make out the small bundle beneath the blankets. Will flipped on the lamp on his bed stand.

Cynthia was curled up tightly in the fetal position. She had tissue clutched in her hand and used tissues strewn over her nightstand. He could make out the dried tracks of tears across her cheeks. She’d taken it harder than he anticipated. She was so emotional lately.

“Cynthia,” he said, shaking her arm softly so as to not startle her.

She muttered and shifted around, straightening out of her tight ball before her eyes fluttered open and her gaze fixed on him. They widened in an instant, and she shot up in bed even though he wasn’t entirely certain she was fully awake. Her expression was panicked and confused, but as the fog of sleep faded away, her gaze hardened, protectively. She drew her legs up to her chest and scooted back against the headboard.

Will felt like a Goliath hovering over David, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and opted to face the wall so she wouldn’t squirm under his gaze. “Why is Nigel calling again?” His voice was flat, unemotional. He didn’t want her to shut down, and if he started yelling, she might.

“I don’t know. He called the house the night I came home from the hospital while you were getting dinner. He kept talking to me like I knew who he was, but I didn’t. It didn’t take me long to figure it out, though.” She shook her head and looked down at the tissue she was tearing to shreds in her hands. “He kept pushing to see me.”

She looked back up at him, glassy tears sparkling in her green eyes. Seeing her cry was like an iron fist straight to his stomach. He wanted to reach out and soothe her, but he didn’t react. For all he knew, this was a new tactic for manipulating him. He couldn’t let her see that she was getting to him.

“Then I remembered what you said about choosing who I would be now. I couldn’t do anything about what I’d already done, but I could put an end to it. So I told him I wouldn’t see him and to stop calling.”

Will’s fists were curled tightly in his lap. He wanted to believe her, but a part of him had heard too many lies. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were starting over, being honest with each other?”

“I didn’t want to drag it all back up. And he’d stopped calling at first. Then the calls started again. But I don’t answer.”

“I just don’t know that I can trust you, Cynthia. I want to, but this doesn’t help.”

She flung back the covers and slid to the edge of the bed to sit beside him. She was wearing navy satin pajama pants with a matching tank top that left little to the imagination. The warmth of her hovered near, but not quite touching. His whole body hummed with the awareness of her, the scent of her skin making his brain lose focus. Will hated that even in this moment when he should despise her the most, he still wanted her. But he didn’t pull away.