Made in America (25 page)

Or Raven’s.

Eloise smooths her already pristine blouse down, and with a huff she spins to leave. As she approaches the door, she turns back one last time, saying, “Pardon my language, Mr. Huffman, but you, sir, are an asshole.”

Rolling my eyes as my sixth assistant in a month makes her exit, I mumble, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

I can’t help it. I know over the last 30 days I’ve become…insufferable, but with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t felt like myself. I haven’t been in control the way I’m used to. It feels like I’m strapped into one of those medieval torture devices being stretched every which way, and at any moment I’m going to come unglued and just burst.

Sighing, I lean back in my chair and turn to overlook the city skyline. It’s only 8:30 in the morning and already this day feels like a wash. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I have no one to blame but myself. When I close my eyes I can still see Raven’s face the instant I told her that Amanda was my wife. She went from having this sorrowful, concerned look in her eyes that was replaced in a fraction of a second with a burning disappointment in me for not telling her the truth.

And then she was running.

I thought about going after her, but really, could I have said anything—anything at all—that would’ve made it okay? Somehow I doubt it.

I count myself lucky just to have received that text from her saying she needed time. At least that gives me something to hold on to. That maybe eventually she’ll want to speak to me again, and I can tell her how truly sorry I am.

“You really fucked up this time, didn’t you, Grant?” I ask myself aloud.

“Yes, you did.”

My heart skips a beat as I jump up from the seat, turning in violent fashion to the point where I nearly trip over my own feet. That’s what running on an hour and a half sleep gets me.

“Raven!” I blink, worried I might be hallucinating from too many nights tossing and turning, but no, she’s here, and she looks fucking gorgeous.

“Hey,” she says shyly, dipping her chin toward her chest.

We stare at one another for a long, long time. It feels incredible to be looking into her eyes again. The way she looks at me—even when she’s unsure of our future—captivates my soul, and no matter what happens next, I feel luckier for having her in my life.

She starts to fidget. Picking at her nails in that way she does when she’s nervous. I rake my eyes down her body and notice the tick. Slowly moving forward, I’m relieved when she doesn’t back away, but the closer I get, the more anxious she seems. I can’t blame her.

“Grant, I really don’t know what to say here,” she confesses.

“Don’t say anything.”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. Her body stiffens at the gesture of affection, but I need to feel her warmth. I need to breathe in her shampoo, her perfume, her breath. I need her like a plant needs oxygen to survive. Closing my eyes, I take in all of Raven’s scents, feeling new life seeping into every pore, and soon she relaxes into me, bringing her arms up to caress my back.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell her.

She tightens her grasp, and for a moment I think we’re going to be okay. That some how—some way—we’re going to get through this, but when I hear her sob, my heart drops into my stomach. I pull away, but she refuses to look at me. Her chin stays pointed toward the ground, so I delicately lift it with my finger only to see her beautiful eyes framed red with tears that break free and spill down her soft cheeks.

“Raven, I—”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she says, a hint of an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips.

It’s then I clue in. They’re not tears of sadness, they’re tears of relief. I know, because I feel it, too. I’m relieved she’s here, relieved she’s willing to talk, and I’m relieved because as much as I messed things up, she’s willing to give me another chance.

At least, I hope she is.

“Are you busy?” she whispers, her mouth just inches from mine.

I’d love nothing more than to kiss her, but I’m terrified of overstepping any boundaries she may have placed between us.

“Not anymore,” I answer.

“Good.”

Her fingers curl into mine causing electricity to shoot up my arm. I missed her before, but the feel of her skin against mine reminds me of just how much I’ve missed
all
of her. Wetting my lips, I clear my throat before it threatens to seize up on me.

Raven notices, but doesn’t say anything. Still, there’s a gleam in her eyes that’s warm, and not at all what I expected.

She leads me out of the office toward the elevators.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to breakfast,” she says. “And you’re going to tell me everything.”

When I rolled out of bed this morning the last place I expected to find myself was in a Burger King, eating a ham, egg, and cheese on a croissant while sitting across from Raven. She’s got a stack of pancakes in front of her that—dare I say—actually look tasty. I don’t know if that’s the lack of sleep talking, or my unwavering hunger since I haven’t eaten anything more than a few pineapples in the last couple of days. Now that she’s back, though, so is my appetite.

In any case, I reach across the table and fork a piece into my mouth.

“Hey, you’ve got your own,” she scowls.

“What? This is all your fault. First the Big Mac, now these. I’m becoming addicted.”

“Robble robble,” she teases.

“C’mon, even I know that’s McDonald’s. Get your artery-clogging fast food joints straight, Miss Young.”

Our banter, and laughter, comes easy. It’s like slipping on a comfortable pair of pajamas after wearing a suit and tie all day. Trust me, I know.

But underneath it, we both know why we’re here, sitting in a back booth while people mill about, ordering food and snatching empty seats. We’re here because of me—because of what I didn’t do when I first met Raven.

Tell her the truth.

That conversation looms on the horizon, coming ever closer as I scarf down my food and watch Raven eat hers. I did miss this. Being with her. Watching her. They say you never really know what you have until it’s gone, but in Raven’s case I knew what I had all along, and I’ve been lost without it.

Crumpling up the wrapper for her hash browns, she chucks everything on our tray and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers together. Her gaze is telling, and as I take the last bite of my croissant, it’s not hard to guess what she’s waiting for.

Taking a long, slow breath, I lean forward, mimicking her posture; only because it’s the closest I can get to her without anyone within earshot hearing our conversation.

“I told you about my grandfather, about how when he passed he left me some money. That wasn’t a lie. He did leave me money, a lot of it. Much to my father’s chagrin. He thought for sure that when Papa died, he’d get the inheritance he always thought he deserved, but my father…he was never careful with money, that’s why mother left him, and my grandfather saw that. That’s why he left me everything, and afterward, my father kicked me out. He was hurt, he was jealous, and I was the only person he could take all that anger out on.

“I was eighteen at the time, and Amanda and I…we were so in love. We got married, and I used some of that money to get us our own place so we could start fresh, leaving the bulk of it untouched until I could figure something out. I thought maybe I’d buy a restaurant, who knows, right? Young and dumb.

“But then the accident happened, and it all fell apart. Amanda was in a coma, so I started paying for her hospital stay with some of the money my grandfather gave me, and I took a chance with the rest. I invested it, not knowing if I’d lose it all. Not knowing if Amanda would ever wake up. I mean, of course I hoped she did. I hoped every single day, and every single day for a year I sat by her side, doing nothing but holding her hand and talking to her, while all that money I invested started growing, and growing, and growing, until there was so much of it I didn’t know what to do with it all.

“That’s when I took another risk and started my own investment firm. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. I think it was something I’d been planning for a long time, but never really realized it. I’d sit by Amanda’s bed, reading business books, watching seminars on my laptop. I soaked up all that information like a sponge, learning everything I could about money and stocks and how to make it grow. I had nothing but time, and after a year I had to accept some hard truths.

“The doctors and nurses all told me she wasn’t going to wake up. They said they’d never seen someone that deep before. Amanda’s brain was still functioning, but…well, it doesn’t really matter because that’s all I heard. I thought that if her brain was still working, then there was a chance she could defy the odds and one day come out of her coma, but I couldn’t wait any longer for one day to come while sitting idle.

“I left her, Raven. I left my wife—left everything she was—because I didn’t know what else to do. I still went to visit her, but those daily visits turned into weekly, and then bi-weekly, and then they stretched further and further apart. Not because I didn’t care, God knows I did, but because I thought that if I stayed busy, she’d wake up. I had this watched pot never boils mentality, and so while I worked myself into exhaustion day in and day out to get my company off the ground, she was still there, in the back of my mind, but the truth is I knew in my heart she was gone, and I didn’t know what to do with that. It hurt so fucking much. She was everything to me, Raven. She was my first love, my first kiss—everything. We were inseparable, we drove each other crazy, and we loved hard. I looked for ways to fill that void, you know? Women, parties, work…nothing could replace her, but I kept trying.

“But as one year turned to two, and three, and then four, she became just another bill to pay at the beginning of every month, and that hurt. It hurt to think of her like that. This woman, who I’d cherished since the beginning of time, was just a piece of paper to me now. I lost all hope that she’d ever wake up, and with the absence of hope came the absence of everything that once made me who I was, or so it felt. I felt like I couldn’t love anyone anymore. I felt like a shell of my former self, so that’s what I became. Just this empty, emotionless shell who wouldn’t let himself get close to anyone. Not because I didn’t care, but because I was afraid. I was so fucking scared, Raven, and I think a part of me still is.”

I reach out and take her hands in mine, searching her face for understanding. She sucks in a sharp breath of air when our skin meets, and I feel her trembling ever so slightly, like a leaf during a gentle breeze. I didn’t expect to be able to get through all of that without shedding any tears, and I wonder how that looks to Raven, but after all these years it’s become easier to accept the way things are, and the way they can never be again.

Not with Amanda.

“But when I’m with you I’m not afraid anymore, Raven,” I continue. “You’ve taken what I thought was a dried up mess of a heart and jolted it to life. You make me feel things I never thought I’d ever be able to feel again, and after all this time, it feels good.
You
feel good. And if I could go back and do everything all over again, believe me—I would. I would tell you everything from the moment we started getting serious. You have no idea how this last month has been without you. I’ve regretted not saying something sooner. Raven, I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry for not being the person you thought I was, but he’s in here somewhere, and I’m hoping you can see that. I’m sorry, Raven.”

She blinks, and the tears that were so prevalent back in my office return, drifting slowly down her cheeks. Sniffling, she reaches for some napkins to dab at her moist skin.

“Raven, I—”

“Thank you,” she interrupts. “Thank you for telling me all that.”

There’s a tone of finality to her voice that sends a shiver up and down my spine. It stiffens, and I can only watch as she rises from her seat and stands over me. Her fingers brush tenderly down my ear and across my cheek. I cherish her touch, leaning into it and grasping her hand for comfort.

“Please don’t,” I say, looking up at her. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to,” she mouths, whispering it so quietly the words are barely audible, but I can read them on her lips.

Lips that I have to kiss, even if it’s for the last time.

Standing, I take her face in my hands and lean in, pressing against her. As we meet, our bodies shudder, relishing in the taste of one another that I know she’s missed just as much as I have. Licking delicately at her lips, her tongue, her teeth—I commit the kiss to memory, breathing in her air for dear life, hoping it will be enough to sustain me when she’s gone.

With the sound of our mouths separating, she looks deep into my eyes. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, Grant, but you did, and that’s something that’s going to take me a while to work through. I understand why you did it, why you didn’t tell me, but it still hurts that you didn’t think you could trust me enough to let me into your heart.”

“I—”

“And you still have some things of your own to work through,” she adds.

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “I know.”

“I just needed to see you for a while, to gauge how I felt.”

“And how do you feel?”

With her arms dangling loosely on my shoulders, Raven tilts her head to the side, her mouth forming a steady, serious line before she says, “I feel…hopeful.”

That’s enough for me to crack a smile. A genuine, meaningful smile, because if nothing else, at least there’s hope.

“Me too,” I whisper.

I stare into the abyss that is her face. I’ve memorized every contour, every line, every expression, and still it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I’ll see you, Mr. Huffman.”

She pulls away, her hands dragging down my chest before she gives me one more hopeful smile. Then she turns, and without looking back, Raven walks out of my life for the time being, leaving me to say goodbye to the woman I thought would be my forever.