Next to You (Life)

Next To You (Life#2)

by Claudia Y. Burgoa

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Copy right ©2014 by Claudia Y. Burgoa

Cover Design by Damonza

Published by:

Literally Alpaca Illustrations, LLC.

Centennial, CO 80111

Dedicated:

To My hubby who is my own personal book club, thank you for listening. And to those, who like Becca suffer[ed] in silence—you’re not alone.

Acknowledgements:

The list of every person that directly or indirectly contributed to this book is long. Thank you to Lily, the first person who read and review Where Life Takes You. Dru from Drue’s Random Chatter, the first blog to post a review of the book. Trying not to forget everyone who has supported me from the first book… Taylor Faulks, Nicole Dunlap, Maria Cox, Robbie Cox, Stephanie Neighbour, Machel Shull, Leisa Greene, Luciana, Roberta Goodman, Irene, Delia Colvin and the amazing group of writers that surrounded me for the past year. I apologize if I miss about a thousand of you, all of you are extraordinaire and I feel blessed to know you.

Thank you to Katie from Innk Reviews, Heather from Not Everybody’s Mama, Alice from All Things In the Cloud Sweet, Andreea Deea, Christina from Love Between The Sheets, , Debbie from Lifeloveandmusic, Elysee Marie from books and iced coffee, Josie, Jacqui, Michelle Abbott, Tabby, Laura from Laura in Bookland, Vanya, Sophie from Review the Book. Giselle from Xpresso Tours who has supported me as an author since the first day I contacted her. If I’m missing some, which I might because I’m a forgetful person, I apologize and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my first book and supporting it. April and Kassandra, the first to readers to reach out to me, it meant a lot.

My beta readers, Gloria Herrera who is the most amazing and patient person in this world; Linda and Danielle who is also an extraordinaire assistant. She’s part human and part superhero. Karen my editor, who fixes all my errors and makes sense of what my brain is trying to transmit—another superhero. Damon, Benjamin and Alisha who as usual produce the most amazing covers and together make my books look amazing.

My friends, Lulu who is always there—Te Adoro Amiga. Lucy, Monse, Moni, Ana, Candace, Anita, Ernesto… My Aunt Claudia, and her friends who adopted me since I was a little girl as their niece. Of course I can’t forget Paulina, who answered all my non-sense questions and keeps being supportive even when she left for that thing called college. My Hubby who deals with my mood swings, Andie my teenager who just smiles and waves while I work; and of course tries to cover for her sister when she can. And Sebastien who patiently waits for me to finish my scenes before taking me away from my computer.

Prologue

“You’re going to
hate me,” I mumbled against his cheek.

“Never, you’re my other half,” He responded. Those words undid me, and made me second guess myself. “I’ll give you all the time you need, Bex. We’ll work it out.” But something told me the story would be different once we talked.

The fear of facing his wrath made me escape without a face to face talk, I took with me the promise that he’d give me time and that he’d never hate me… However the story, well it didn’t work quite as well as I wished.

Chapter 1

T
here are moments
in life that define who you are, who you’ll become or even your future. Mine, I thought, would be the day I wed Rebecca Trent. She changed my life in ways I thought would never be possible. Like trusting someone other than my foster brother—Buddy—or Raj, the guy who helped us find Rich and Ophelia Swanson. Rich is the man who became our role model. His motto: work hard to achieve your goals.

That moment, the one I thought would delineate my future, is scheduled to happen in a few weeks. Unfortunately, raw reality hit me a few seconds ago, and instead of having a wedding, I am dumbfounded by the new development following a series of problems I have faced on a daily basis for the past few months. My future has taken a complete one eighty degree turn and instead of finding my girl waiting for me when I arrive at home, I find a deserted house and a letter on top of her pillow.

Danny:

Here’s the list, you promised.

Love,

Bex

Hi Dan,

You know the stories, all of them. My entire life I relied on someone to care for me. First Grams, then Ian, and I transferred the little cord to you. How it happened is a puzzle, but you took over the job of sheltering Becca. Heck of a job if you ask me. You put me through college, and gave me a wonderful job and your friendship. During the time we spent together, you began to love me.

But… do you really love me? I ask myself that a hundred times during the day. Here’s my perspective:

Your parents abandoned you, and I believe you closed your heart to everyone. I’m safe. A little dove you found with two broken wings and incapable of flying. One you can possess. Would you love me the same if I could fly, or would you trust me? Or would I have been another nameless body on your bed’s parade? I don’t want you to resent me in the long run. I’ll die if I lose you because I’m such a mess.

I need time. Time to heal those wings and learn to use them.

This isn’t about you, so please don’t believe I abandoned you. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I love you. At this point in life, I’m an empty vessel that can’t belong to anyone, nor can I hold onto anyone. I’m leaving—I’ve left. We need to learn about each other before we can be together.

To do List:

1. 1.
   Don’t look for me, please.
   
2. 2.
   Date, yes date other people and give them the opportunity to know the real you. Chances are, you might meet the love of your life and forget all about me.
   
3. 3.
   Don’t date Trish—she’s not good for you.
   
4. 4.
   Don’t hate me, please.
   
5. 5.
   Even if you’re mad, please email me so I know you’re doing fine.
   
6. 6.
   Don’t date sluts, please.
   

You see, I’m setting you free because I love you. Who knows where life will take you. There’s the sad possibility that when I come back, you’ll be happy with someone else. But I’ll be happy if you are. You deserve better than me; a messed up woman who can’t fend for herself. I need to break out of the codependency and find myself.

Love you forever,

Becca

Sitting next to it is a burgundy velvet box. I don’t need to open it to know what is inside. After all, I gifted it to Becca when I asked her to marry me. My chest tightens and my lungs lose the capability of consuming any air at all. For once, I let that self-control I acquired at a young age crumble and without giving it a thought I throw the crystal tulip she has on her night stand, against the wall. As it makes contact, it shatters into a million pieces just like my heart did while I read her letter, the one where she recounts some part of her sobbing, pathetic life. Using such as an excuse to break up with me and leave.

“What happened?” I turn toward the door where Ty—my best friend—stands as he switches his gaze from me, to the shattered pieces of crystal and finally on the letter I hold. “She had to.”

It’s all he says while I crush the most stupid and ridiculous letter I’ve ever touched in my entire life. We talked thousands of times, rehashed that together we’d get through the mound of shit that she has piled on her plate. Her answer was simple, a letter and the return of the ring I gave her as she promised to be my wife, the mother of my children, my best friend, the one I’d spend the rest of my life with. As I’m standing alone in our sanctuary, I feel as if she has reached for my heart, ripped it out of my chest and stamped on it until it exploded.

“I’m here for you, Dan,” Ty says as I drop the paper ball and open the velvet box that’s burning my hand. Why not take it with her, give me some shitty illusion that we’d get back together someday? “Bex—“

“Get the hell out of my house,” I yell at him, lifting my gaze and wanting to walk where he stands to punch him as hard as I can to see if he can feel some of the pain that’s overtaking my body. “Where the fuck is she?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Ty barely lifts his shoulders. “She’ll let us know when she’s ready, and I think you—“

“Don’t think and don’t tell me what to do, Tyler.” I was there for him when things almost went to the shit house with Ashley. I helped him with her fucked up family and to reciprocate, he tells me that Becca needed to leave me. “Time and again I’ve been there for you, asshole. A job, a company, a friendship and what the fuck have you done for me? Who helped her, who insisted—“

“Everyone, Daniel.” Drew, Raj’s boyfriend appears from wherever the hell he was at. I need to recover the keys to my house; the ones I handed out while Rebecca’s mother stayed across the hall, dying from cancer. As of right now, everyone who professes to be my friend has access to my house without restrictions. Everyone who betrayed me, according to Drew. “I told you several times that she needed help, but you didn’t want to hear it. She took responsibility for herself and now you need to grow up. We all helped her, in one way or another; it was her decision and she needs a loving family to support her. It’s sad that you can’t see it, and that you can’t be there for her. Now grow some balls and take this like a responsible adult.”

Not waiting for me to retort, he walks away.

“I’m here for you, Dan,” Tyler repeats a second, or perhaps a third time since he arrived, then turns around and just like Drew, he leaves me alone.

“Fuck you, Tyler,” I shout after him. “Fuck you and everyone that thinks they know what’s best for Rebecca or me.”

I am what’s best for Becca. Well, not anymore. I tried, from day one to be there for her, to make things easier for her to… I have nothing more to say. As I scan my room; her presence overwhelms me. The frames with pictures of us, the aroma of her flowery scent, the pink details she added to my navy blue room. She meshed herself in my house… my house. I can’t breathe in the same space we used to occupy—sleep and make love—my vision is blurring and before I do something I regret; I grab my phone, wallet and keys from my own night stand and head out.

“Sir,” Betsy answers the phone immediately.

“Call my hotel, the one down the street from the office.” I shut the door of my house and instead of heading to the elevator, I take the stairs. “I need the Presidential suite ready in five. Tell them to stock several bottles of Don Julio Real and the same amount of Jack Daniels. Cancel all my appointments for tomorrow.”

“Anything else, Sir?”

“Do you know where Rebecca is?”

“No, Sir,” she answers. “Do you want me to call the Foundation and tell her to meet you—“

“No.” And it hits me, do I give a fuck about where she went? What she’s doing? Why should I give a fuck about her, when she decided to leave me behind? “Never mind, she left. As in she’s no longer part of the company or my life.”

Of all the people I’ve known in my life, I never thought she’d be the one who one day would up and leave. Anyone else, even Buddy, but not her. I fixed everything for her. I tried to make sure nothing touched her and no one caused her pain. Not after the shitty childhood she had. In exchange she gave me the middle finger and eloped by herself. No wedding, no dog, no children, no happily ever after. Damn, I sound like a chick after a fucking break up. One of those spinsters that couldn’t keep their man happy and was booted because she was annoying, clingy or whatever other flaw their man couldn’t get past.

The elevator pings, as I reach the garage level. Nate, my personal bodyguard steps outside of it.

“Which car would—“

“I’m taking the bike,” I cut him off. “Could you please have Mary pack me a bag, I’m leaving for a few days.” I hate to give details about my whereabouts, but as my head of security, he needs to know where I’m heading; not why. “Deliver it when it’s ready to Moore Hotel; the Presidential suite.”

I sigh, it has been a long, stressful and overwhelming period. Everything I did for us, for her didn’t matter. I wonder if I should’ve let her go after high school. Maybe Rebecca Trent will recover, maybe she will move on with her life; but from this moment forward, I swear not to give a shit about her, or her future. Fool me once, it’s on her. I won’t let her fool me twice, I won’t let anyone step on my heart ever again.

*

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask Raj, as he enters the room. Then I point at the man who let him inside my suite. “You’re fired, and I’ll make sure—“

“Thank you,” Raj cuts me off. “You can go back to work.”

“Don’t undermine my authority—“

“That’s a neat pile of bottles.” He points at the empty amber and green bottles I piled earlier. “You need to shower, stop drinking and go to work—take responsibility of your life.”

Am I supposed to know what the hell he is talking about? Just yesterday, he went to my office and kicked me out of said office, saying that I should’ve never been there in my state—drunk. He told me to fix my priorities and then go back to work. I haven’t fixed those priorities, I don’t even give a damn about that shit. Yet he’s here telling me to be responsible. Now with that last word, responsible, a question surges inside my mind.

“Did you help her Raj?” He doesn’t answer my question. “Get the hell out of here, I’m not ready to let the haze go, if numb hurts like a mother fucker; I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel when I stop drinking.”

He leaves, without any of his foolish uplifting words. I’m proud of him, he learned fast that his poorly delivered speeches about life going on don’t help. I’m not willing to understand whatever fucked up thing he wants me to get through my thick skull. That’s how he called it. The sharp, tearing pain inside my heart repeats every minute, second or so, as I recall the moments I spent with her. When I close my eyes, her big brown eyes meet mine, her scent creeps inside my nose, the stench of alcohol doesn’t erase what’s engraved inside my head.

I take several gulps of whatever liquor is inside the open bottle I hold. Raj should take my advice, this is the cure for everything, at least to forget that one is ill with some unknown ache that won’t go away.