He held me hostage, and it didn’t matter that his body was pressed to mine in the bathroom of a sushi restaurant because his hold on me reached everywhere, inches or miles. It was invisible and it felt inescapable.
“But the day will come, my sweet Evelyn,” he whispered while dragging his lips from my cheek to my ear, “that I will expect something in return.”
“W-what?” The stuttered word squeaked past the tiny airway in my throat.
Graham kissed my earlobe. “You.”
I blinked a new round of tears as Graham pushed off the counter and sauntered to the door. Before he opened it, he paused, keeping his back to me. “Let’s all do dinner soon. And Evelyn? I agree … we don’t need to discuss this again. Not with each other, not with anyone else. For everyone’s safety, this needs to stay between us.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ronin
The good news?
After a trip to visit my doctor, he agreed I was suffering from depression. Validation soothed my need to feel sane.
The bad news?
Antidepressants didn’t work because I wasn’t actually depressed. The chemical imbalance wasn’t actually mine. I was feeling Lila’s depression. Lila’s leukemia. Lila’s aches and pains. Lila’s nonexistent libido. Lila’s everything.
Opioids worked. They took away all the pain. But I knew I could have the opioids or I could have Evelyn and the kids, but I couldn’t have both. I chose my family.
However, I started to wonder if my depression (Lila’s depression) was contagious. Evelyn stopped pressuring me to tell her what was wrong with me. She stopped snuggling into my back at night, which had been a painful reminder that I’d become a terrible husband who had no desire to have sex. She even stopped stealing my job of singing in the shower, yet another painful reminder that our life revolved around work and the kids.
Nobody sang in the shower.
Nobody made love in our bed.
Nobody sent me flirty pictures during the day with a blowing-kiss emoji and a “Can’t wait to see you!”
I missed feeling good. I missed getting a hard-on just thinking about Evelyn. I missed busting my ass to get the kids in bed so I could have their mom all to myself. The list of things I missed became too long to remember. That was the worst part—I started to forget what it felt like to have a life with my own feelings, a sense of control over myself.
“Hey.” Lila answered her door, greeting me with a sad smile.
My desperation led me to her. When I called to see if she could see me, Lila agreed without question.
“Hey.” I looked around as I stepped into the foyer.
“It’s just us.” She shot me a reassuring smile. “I gave the staff the day off, and Graham is out of town.”
“Your face.” I grimaced.
She ghosted her fingertips along her jaw, along the yellowed brown bruise marks that were still visible.
“I’m taking a martial arts class. It was Graham’s idea. He said I can never be too safe. And we both agreed exercise is good. Unfortunately, I bruise easily. But so far, I’ve been able to cover it up with makeup when I’m in the public eye.”
“Swimming. Walking. Pilates. Yoga … not any sort of contact sport. What were you thinking? What was Graham thinking?” I pressed my finger under her chin to tip her head up a little more to see the extent of the bruising, but it was nearly gone.
What hadn’t disappeared, not even a little, was the instant physical transformation I felt the instant I touched her.
No more pain.
No more ringing in my ears.
No more depression.
I didn’t know what she felt when I touched her. It didn’t make sense for Lila to feel anything at all from me. But that didn’t stop her from leaning into my touch.
Dropping my hand from her chin, I waited for her to look up at me.
“You’re miserable,” she whispered.
It wasn’t my intention to make Lila feel guilty for anything. She didn’t make a deal with God … or whatever greater force cursed my life so many years earlier. The leukemia wasn’t her fault. Nothing was her fault.
“Are you?” I asked instead of admitting or denying my own misery.
“Yes.”
“Are you getting treatment?”
She nodded slowly.
“Chemo? Radiation?”
Tears filled her eyes as she relinquished another single nod. “I started last week.” She pivoted, wiping her eyes while heading up the stairs. “I want to show you something.”
Lila had lost weight. Her tailored light gray pants hung loosely on her, so did her white long-sleeved blouse that would’ve usually flowed perfectly over her curves. That day it looked two sizes too big, hiding all the parts of her that Evie used to envy—her breasts, the perfect curve of her hips, and the lines of her backside.
“How will you explain this to Evie?” I asked, following her down the long hallway. “The weight loss? The hair loss if you have it? Nausea? Lethargy? You won’t be able to hide from Evie. Or the public. You’re in front of cameras all the time.”