Last Kiss (30 page)

He understood, either because he realized it for himself or he really could read me that well. His gaze fell, and he released his grip on me, a silent surrender.

With his guard lowered, I slapped him.

“How was that decision for you?” My hand stung, but I refused to let on. “And how’s this one – I’m going home. To my new apartment. Without you. You do whatever the fuck you want about your uncle. I won’t tell you what to do because I don’t care.”

“If that’s what you need to do, then that’s what you need to do.” It was the coldest he’d ever been with me. “And I’ll take care of Michelis. He’s taken too much away from me, and it’s time for me to stand up and make him pay.”

It was a challenge, a last attempt to get me to tell him not to go, not to start a war, to stay and be safe.

But I was incapable. I was numb. “If that’s what you need to do, then that’s what you need to do.”

He left in a cab. Filip drove me to my new home. Joe had given me keys and a security code, but it was the first time I’d been there. My furniture had been placed in logical locations. The basics had been unpacked for me – my kitchen was organized, my clothes were hanging in my closet, my bed was made. Unopened boxes were stacked up in the living room, the less important items that made up my life. My books. Pictures. The few knickknacks I owned.

I stood at the door and surveyed the apartment, a place with no memories, no emotional attachment. It was as cold as I was, and it was my new home.

So I’d rebuild. Without Reeve. Without Amber.

It’s not the worst thing in the world,
I told myself, in a voice that was completely my own.
You’ve done it before. You can do it again.

It took two days before I could spend any real time out of bed. Three days before I managed to get dressed. On the fourth day, I forced myself to be productive.

I spent the morning on e-mails and reading a new script from my agent that was, for once, not terrible. Then I began working through the boxes. It was early evening, and I’d finished unpacking almost half of them when Joe stopped by.

“I wanted to make sure you were eating,” he said, holding up two boxes of Chinese take-out.

“I’m more interested in that bottle of wine you have tucked under your arm. But, please, come in.” I gestured toward the dining room and headed to the kitchen for a corkscrew, plates, and wineglasses.

“Sorry, I wasn’t really dressed for company,” I said when I returned, referring to my ensemble of yoga pants and a tank top.

“I don’t know, I think you look pretty cute.”

“Oh. Well.” I tucked a hair behind my ear and studied him as he uncorked the bottle of Riesling. His hair had grown out since I’d met him, and he’d grown a goatee. He had almost ten years on me and wore more than a few scars, but, I had to admit, he was very much an attractive man.

An attractive man who wouldn’t be my type even when – or if – I ever decided I was ready to date again.

“Calm down. I wasn’t hitting on you,” he said, handing me a glass. “I’m just saying you look good.”

“Then I’ll say thank you. And you look good, too.”

We ate together, the first meal I’d really tasted in more than a week. When we finished, he helped me clear the table and load the dishwasher.

“What’s up for you next?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

I finished pouring detergent into the machine and pushed Start before turning to answer. “Production for
NextGen
starts up again in August. So there’s that.” I remembered what Reeve had said about how I’d been too scared to make any real change happen in my life. He’d been right, of course, but I was determined to change that. Starting with my career. “I’ve got a contract for the season, but if I could book another job before that, it might give me options so I don’t have to sign the next contract.”

“Good,” Joe said encouragingly. “I’d love to actually
see
you in something.”

“Yeah. So would I.”

I wiped my wet hands on a dish towel then together we walked out to the living room that was a mess from unpacking.

Joe surveyed the scene. “You’re settling in here. I’m surprised.”

“Why? You didn’t think I’d like it here? I think you picked a nice place, actually.” Not that I’d been out of the apartment to explore the neighborhood yet, but from the window it seemed nice.

“I know I picked a nice place,” he said as though his taste would never be in question. “But Reeve asked me what the lease terms were. Wondered how fast you could get out of it if you moved in with him instead. I figured that’s what you’d decided to do.”

“What?” Reeve and I had never once discussed moving in together. “When did he ask that?”

“Last week. He e-mailed me. The same day Amber disappeared, actually.”

I immediately thought about the e-mail Reeve had claimed he’d gotten dressed to send. “Did he message you really early? Like, maybe the middle of the night island time?”

Joe sank onto the arm of my sofa, considering. “Maybe. It was in my in-box when I woke up. I didn’t check when it had been sent and then we got wrapped up in Amber so I didn’t think much about it. Why?”

So, Reeve and I had spent the night together, and after I’d snuck out, he’d had to get up immediately to make arrangements for me to possibly move in with him. It was… sweet, actually. And typical – making serious plans without consulting with me. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to admit to it. In the light of day, he’d probably realized he’d acted impulsively.

In some other universe, maybe there was another Emily Wayborn née Barnes who got to be delighted about a man who’d do that. A man who loved her so much he couldn’t even wait until the sun came up before looking into ways they could be together more permanently.

My chest pinched at the thought, and I had to take a seat in my armchair before answering. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I guess. We’re not together anymore.”

Joe cocked his head, not surprised, but curious. “You still feel he might have had something to do with Amber?”

No, I didn’t. Even knowing about the e-mail to Joe didn’t make me believe Reeve had done something to her.

But there were a hundred reasons not to dwell on it too much. “I think there’re too many questions that will never be answered. And other than that, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.” He squinted, as if trying to decide to say more on the subject. “For what it’s worth, I should mention that I’ve done my own investigating, and I’ve been in contact with Sallis’s team, and no matter how I look at it, I just can’t figure out how Vilanakis would have managed to get into that compound. Every one of the staff checks out clean. The flight itineraries and hotel records off the island show no one suspicious at first glance. I can keep digging if you want, but I don’t know how deep I’m going to have to get before I get anywhere.”

“Well, that just points more to Reeve, doesn’t it?”
All
the evidence seemed to point to Reeve. Which was exactly my reason for not wanting to think about it.

Joe shrugged. “I guess. But there’s something that still doesn’t add up, and, if I am to continue investigating, he’s not where my focus would be.”

“Where would it be instead?” I asked, actually interested in the answer.

“Not sure yet. I guess I’d start looking harder at Amber, figure out who she had relationships with and see if I could make a link that way. Dig deeper into the things that don’t make sense. Like, for example, did you know she got that tattoo on her own?”

“What do you mean?”

“In my investigating, I found the place she had it done. The owner of the tattoo shop said Amber came in with a picture of the V and paid for it herself. She was alone. He also said that was the only tattoo like that he’d ever done. And when I showed him pics of Vilanakis, he claimed he’d never seen him.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I’d have to dig deeper to know that.” He frowned. “It’s just odd. Why would she get a tattoo that stands for something so specific and terrible? Did she have feelings for Vilanakis? Did she get it to impress him? Was it just another way to piss Reeve off?”

There was something about it that definitely didn’t make sense, and with all the questions, it was tempting to want to continue the investigation.

But just like Reeve had suggested, more proof wouldn’t change how I felt in my heart. “You don’t need to dig anymore. I’m ready to be done with all of that.”

“I think that’s probably smart.”

We grew silent, and I wondered how long it would hurt like this to talk about Reeve. Would I ever actually be able
to be done with all of that?
Be done with
him
?

The question was exhausting. “Anyway,” I said, dismissing the subject of my ex. “You came here for more than just to feed me. What’s up?”

Joe scratched at the back of his neck. “Very perceptive. If this acting gig doesn’t pan out for you, you should consider joining my team.”

“Your team,”
I chuckled. “You’re a solo kind of a guy and you know it.”

“Maybe that could change,” he said with a wink. “But yes. I’m glad you’ve decided to end the investigation, because I came to say that I’m leaving town for a while. I wanted to make sure I gave you a proper good-bye before I did.”

I gave him a knowing smile. “You’re going after Vilanakis, aren’t you?”

“I’d rather not say anything more.”

“That’s not at all obvious,” I teased, then paused, debating whether I should say more.

I decided I owed Joe everything I knew, even if it some of it hurt to talk about. “You should probably know that Reeve is planning to go after him as well. I don’t have any details, but it was his intention when we last spoke.”

“Damn,” he said, stunned. “That’s not going to start a war or anything, is it?”

“Not my circus anymore.” But my stomach churned, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just my dinner digesting.

“Well, even if Reeve manages to take care of Vilanakis without getting himself killed, it won’t free any of the women he’s helped enslave.”

“So they’ll need to be rescued,” I said definitively, ignoring that he’d just put a label to the cause of my stomach pain. “Like Maya.”

“I think so. Yeah.” His brows furrowed and he stared at his hands, growing somber. “Though it seems I’m not always good at recognizing which women need to be rescued from the ones who don’t.”

He peered up at me, his expression asking. And I realized it was an apology of sorts, for once thinking that Reeve had been a danger to me. For warning me away when I’d been dead set on pursuing Reeve’s company.

So I hadn’t needed rescuing. But maybe if I’d listened to him, it could have prevented the awful heartache I was feeling now.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think you’re better than you realize.”

We said our good-byes after that, making promises to stay in touch that I was pretty certain neither of us would keep.

Then I poured a second glass of wine and settled down on the floor to tackle more boxes. The very next one I opened caused my heart to skip a beat. It contained items from my mother’s house, one of several that didn’t go with her to her new facility. On the top of the pile was her old answering machine, the one that had Amber’s message from last summer on it.

If it was still saved there…

I’d listen to it. It would tear me apart, but I would listen because I missed her voice and her presence. Mostly I just missed knowing she was somewhere in the world, and maybe hearing her again, even just that small clip, would bring her back long enough to fill the hole she’d left in me.

Picking the machine up cautiously, as if it were delicate and might break if I mishandled it, I got to my feet and began searching for a place to plug it in. The outlets in the living room were all in use or behind furniture, so I took it into the dining room, plugged it in, and set it on the table.

The display lit up showing zero new messages. I held my breath as I flipped through the menu to the saved items. Then, when the automated voice said,
“You have two saved messages,”
I pushed the button to play them all and held my breath again, hoping one of them was her.

The automated voice announced the first message’s time stamp, and I sighed with relief and melancholy when I realized it was hers.

“Emily.”
Tears slipped down my face. I couldn’t believe it had only been a week since I’d last heard her say my name.
“It’s been ages, I know. But I’ve been thinking about you. God, I’m not even sure if this is still your number. Anyway, I wanted to ask
–
do you still have that blue raincoat? Miss you. Bye.”

I sank down into a chair as my crying strengthened. It was such a little thing, listening to a silly ten-second voice mail message, but it was a gut punch. Knowing I wouldn’t ever again, hearing her say blue raincoat (our safe word), realizing it couldn’t keep her safe – it brought on an onslaught of emotion that had needed to be released. I pushed Play again, put my face in my hands, and sobbed.

I was too absorbed in my blubbering to stop the message when it finished the second time. The automated voice moved onto the next saved recording, and I was semi-aware of another time and date being announced. But then it started playing, and my breath caught.

It was her voice again. Amber’s. A second message.

I restarted the message, and my heart started to pound when I realized it had been left on the night I’d last seen her. The night she’d died.

“Hi.”
There was a beat.
“Hi,”
she said again and every part of my body tensed.
“I’m in my room on Oinopa. I left you about half an hour ago, I think? Maybe longer. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I changed my mind. I don’t want you to leave the island tomorrow. I was wrong to ask you to go. I was selfish. I’m selfish a lot. I know.”

Sinking. I felt like I was sinking, sinking, sinking.

“I went to tell you that. Went to tell you to stay. Went to your room.”
If I’d thought her first revelation had been overwhelming, this was earth-shattering. Heartbreaking. She’d gone to my room, and of course, I hadn’t been there.

“Surprise! Your room was empty.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I was worried. Or maybe curious. So I went to Reeve to see if he knew where you were, and when I got to his room, right before I knocked
…
well, except for the master bedroom, the walls here are thin.”

“Oh, no,” I gasped out loud. “No, no, no.”

But yes. That’s exactly what had happened – she’d heard Reeve and me together. Heard us making love.

“I was upset. And I went back to my room to think about it and I got more upset.”
The items on the floor by her vanity. She’d thrown them there.
“Lucky thing I snagged those pills. I saw them in your suitcase when I was helping you pack. And right now I’m just super grateful you hadn’t dumped them down the toilet.”

Fuck. The pills.

I’d forgotten all about them. The ones I’d taken from her the day we arrived. I’d hidden them in my suitcase, and, now that I thought about it, they hadn’t been there when I unpacked. Why the hell hadn’t I thrown them out?

“I’ve had a few of them now. Maybe more than a few. I’m going to have a few more in a bit. Or a lot more. Whatever. Just, first
…
”
 

She let out a long labored breath, and I closed my eyes, wanting to block out her voice, wanting to avoid the ending where this conversation inevitably led, but not able to cover my ears or shut off the machine. I
had
to keep listening, as horrible as it was to hear. I had to know all of it.

“This isn’t a blue raincoat call.”
How ironic was it that the safe word she’d made for me had only ever been used by her?
“You’ll get this when it’s too late to do anything to help me. Honestly, it was probably too late for you to help me when we met. But maybe that’s why I loved you so much
–
because you didn’t try. You didn’t try to fix me or take me back home or tell me that my life was on a downward spin. You only wanted to make me happy. I think you’re the only person who ever really did. I’m sorry it was such an impossible task.