Gorgeous Misery (Creeping Beautiful)

“Yeah, whatever.” Then her smile drops. “Oh, shit. Cameras?”

I shrug. “Meh. I would love to see Merc’s face if he’s recording this. Let him try to figure us out, Wendy. He’ll never understand us.”

“No one understands us.”

“Just us,” I say.

She nods and snuggles up against me. Then she sighs. “I really am OK.”

I sigh too. Because I’m trying not to think about Merc’s fucked-up trip into her mind and this reassurance is a signal that while she isn’t OK yet, she will be. So I redirect her thoughts back to our crazy, impromptu, desperate clinging-to-each-other-before-we-had-to-separate wedding.

“Wendy Gale, you’re not the kind of girl you marry. You’re not even the kind of girl you date. You’re not a friend with benefits, you’re not a one-night-stand, and regardless of what you think, you have never been a rebound. You are the kind of girl I want to kidnap. You are the kind of girl I want to lock in a basement so you can’t ever escape. You’re the kind of girl I want to tie up. I want to put a collar on you. A leash. Handcuffs. I want to gag your mouth. A blindfold isn’t a bad idea either. Because Wendy Gale, you are the kind of girl I grab on to—any way I can—and I never let go. You are that special to me.”

Her eyes search mine for a moment. I love those speckles. She knows this little speech by heart. I’ve been saying this to her for years now, long before we ended up standing in front of an altar in Missouri. She knows what comes next. She is as sure of it now as I was back then.

“Wendy, you only need to know one thing about me, babe. Just one. No matter what happens, I will never let go.”

And I won’t.

Last Christmas was a tipping point for us. We had been playing the old how-do-we-move-on-after-that-shit-happened game for almost seven years. And you know what they say about the definition of insanity. You can’t do the same thing over and over again and expect different results.

So why were we still playing the insanity game?

It was time to end it.

And by end it I mean begin it.

It was time for drastic measures.

It was time I gave her that perfect present.

It was time I told her about the cure.

I don’t care what happens next.

We’re seeing this through to the end.

PART THREE - THE WISE

“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”

? Aristotle

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - MERC

“OK,” Harrison says once we’re outside. “What are we doing?”

“You’re going back to Fort Collins.”

“Why?”

“Pick up Sasha. Bring her here.”

Harrison stops walking. “Are you sure that’s the right move? I mean… it’s been nearly ten years, Merc. She doesn’t need this.”

I agree with him. Up to a point. And I know Sasha doesn’t want this, but something is happening here and Nick is at the center of it. “Doesn’t she?” I ask Harrison. “It’s one thing to pretend we don’t know the truth, it’s quite another to turn a blind eye.”

“You think she knows Nick is alive?”

“She knows. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she knows. It’s better to get it over with. Confront it. Because I need her help here.”

“For what?”

“Keep walking,” I say, looking over my shoulder. “I don’t want to talk too close to the house.”

We go up the driveway and stop in front of the jet. “OK,” Harrison says. “Now explain. What’s really going on here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“You think Nick is up to something?”

“I know he is. Everything about this is off.”

Harrison shrugs with his hands. “Off how?”

“I’m not sure. But it’s all connected. Wendy, Adam, Nick, Donovan or Carter or whoever the fuck that guy is. They’re up to something.”

“You’re worried about your girls?”

“Well. A little,” I admit. “It’s disturbing. But I don’t think they’ve got a trigger. Nick said that Indie girl went off script all the time.”

“Well, from what I understand, she was living with the puppetmaster. So…”

“Yeah, I get it. He had lots of opportunities. But Nick made it sound like this was just her natural personality. My girls aren’t like that, Harrison. You know they’re not. They’re like Sasha. Good kids who just know too much.”

Harrison nods. “OK. I agree with you. So maybe we just go home and forget about all of it?”

“We can’t.”

Harrison makes a face at me. It is a look that says, Bullshit. “No. We absolutely can. You just don’t want to. After ten years of fatherhood and domestic problems you’ve finally found yourself in the middle of something big and bad. You’re the one who can’t walk away, Merc. Because if it were up to me, I’d get in my plane, go home, and never think about these fucking people again. I sure as hell would not go back to Fort Collins and rip Sasha’s life apart by bringing her in on it.”