Then Comes Marriage (10 page)

I close my eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been single.”
 

“It has.”
 

“I don’t know how to start dating again. The online thing didn’t work out for you, did it?”

She chuckles. “Not at all. Neither did being set up on blind dates by friends. Don’t even think about it right now though.”
 

I swallow back a sob. “I know. I just want to envision myself happy, and I can’t do that without thinking about being in another relationship. That’s screwed up, isn’t it? That I can’t be happy with just me?”

“Just you is a really awesome person. Maybe you should take some time to get to know her.”
 

“She’s weird.”
 

“Weird is cool.” Lauren doesn’t miss a beat.
 

I push my hair out of my face. It’s long and overdue for a cut. Travis loved my long hair. He’d pull it or run his fingers through it during sex.
 

I want to chop it all off. Tomorrow, when I go shopping, I’m stopping by my old salon.

“You have to go to class tomorrow, don’t you?” I ask.
 

“I do. I’d rather stay home though. Do you want to come over later? I’ll be home around seven.”
 

“That’s okay. I know you’re busy. Actually, I don’t know how you do it all.”
 

“I’m not as put together as you think,” she tells me with a smile. “I don’t really sleep anymore. You are more than welcome to come over.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll stay home and watch TV. I’ve been binging
American Horror Story
and need to finish season three.”

“Okay. What about this weekend? I actually have to go shopping and was hoping my fashionista friend may help me out.”
 

“I can help you, but I’m not really a fashionista anymore.”
 

“Rachel,” Lauren starts. “You are not allowed to give up. You’re upset right now, but don’t you dare stop blogging. You love it, and you have lots of people who look to you for inspiration, and I’m not talking about just clothing.”

“I have no boyfriend to take pictures of me anymore,” I mumble, a little ashamed. “It’s not going to be easy posting outfits of the day when no one is around to take a daily Insty picture for me.”

“You’ve said before that you hate how fashion bloggers get a bad rep of being brainless blondes posing for their boyfriends.”

“Yeah, I know.”
 

“This is your chance to prove that’s not true. You don’t need a man to be able to blog.”

“But I kinda do.”
 

“Rach,” she says. “No you don’t. Your phone has a timer, and —oh! Noah has like a million cameras he doesn’t use. Okay, not a million, but like five. I’m sure he can give you one. You can put it on a stand and use a remote. Problem solved. You can do this on your own, I promise. And you know I’ll help whenever I can.”
 

My phone rings. I take my hand from Lauren’s and grab it. A phone number with an area code I don’t recognize lights up the screen. I don’t answer calls from unknown numbers.
 

“I think that’s the resort,” Lauren says, looking at my phone. “That’s a Hawaii area code.”
 

Oh, great. I get to tell strangers that the honeymoon suite I booked is no longer needed. I inhale. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Rachel Brown?” a woman on the other line asks.
 

“It is.”
 

“Hi Rachel, this is Kelsey from the Lalani Resort. You had left a message about canceling your stay?”

“I did.” My heart hammers, nervous just from talking to a stranger on the phone.

“I’m sorry, but your room is non-refundable.”
 

So many things go through my head.
Are you fucking serious
is the main one. There’s over a month left, they can surely fill the room in that time. “There’s nothing you can do?” I ask.
 

“I can downgrade your room and put the difference on the card we have on file,” Kelsey says. “But I cannot issue a refund. You agreed with the terms of sale when you booked.”
 

I sigh, feeling like crying all over again. There goes several thousand dollars…and a hit on my bucket list that I won’t be checking off. There were so many things I was looking forward to in Hawaii, and thanks to my asshole ex-fiancé, I won’t get to experience them. It’s not fair he ruined this for me, and that he’s taking it away. I wanted to go to Hawaii badly. Hell, I still want to go.

I shake my head, looking at Lauren. Her words echo in my head.
This is your chance to prove that’s not true.
She’s right. I don’t need a man in order to be a kick-ass blogger.
 

And I don’t need a husband to enjoy my honeymoon.

Chapter Ten

Derek

About two months later…

“What the hell were you thinking, going in without backup?” Andy drills me, shaking his head. I’m sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping from my right bicep.

Alcohol burns the wound, but I don’t flinch. The pain feels good.
 

“I was following a lead that I couldn’t let go,” I answer. “And you should be thanking me.” I flick my gaze to the young EMT who is attending to the bullet wound on my arm. I was grazed, and will probably require a stitch or two. But it was more than worth it. “We’ll talk at the station,” I say. Andy nods, and then steps away to investigate the body.
 

I followed a trail that could lead this case to Daniel Trenton, one of the biggest dealers in the Dallas area. Tying the murders to him is huge. Trenton is an all-around bad guy. Along with selling drugs, he’s killed innocent people, a few of them officers of the law. He’s been infuriatingly out of reach for years, and I’ve heard a few feds have delayed their retirement so they can keep running after the fucker.
 

I heard the gunshot from the alleyway behind this old warehouse. By the time I got here, there was already a body on the ground, surrounded by enough fresh blood to let me know immediately he was dead. Two men were getting into a black SUV, and a few bullets were exchanged. One got me, but two got the driver. His accomplice got away, dammit.

The EMT wraps my arm and tells me I should really go in for stitches. I tell her I will and don’t mean it at all, then get up, put my torn and bloody jacket back on and join Andy. He’s kneeling down by the victim, squinting in the dark.
 

“Does he have any ID?” the medical examiner asks.
 

“None on him,” I say. “But his name is Matt.”
 

“You know him?”

“Not personally. We questioned him a few days ago at the wellness clinic at Good Faith.” My gut twists when I think about Rachel the nurse. I don’t know the extent of their bond, but I do know she will notice and wonder why he hasn’t shown up. She’s not his family. I don’t have to go tell her. Yet I want to. Break it to her easy, because she might find out sooner than later and it won’t be pretty.
 

Poor guy. How the hell did he get mixed up in this?
 

“There’s a bag over here,” Andy says and I go over, finding a backpack next to a dumpster. I put on gloves and carefully open the bag. It’s full of food and a key card to a hotel down the street.
 

“Son of a bitch,” I spit and put the bag down. “If the homeless are being used as runners, then he’s bribing them with food and shelter to transport drugs.”
 

Andy lets out a long sigh. “This case is bigger than we though.”
 

“Hell yeah it is. If we—”

“No,” Andy interrupts, eyes going to the wound on my arm. “You need to go get stitched up. You’re not bleeding in my car. I just had it detailed.”
 

I look down and see the bandage is soaked with blood. Dammit. I don’t have time for this.
 

“Go get stitches,” he says firmly. “Then we’ll talk at the station. We can’t just run in guns blazing on this, and you know it.”
 

Fuck, I do. Sometimes I hate the law. Trenton and all who work for him are bad. Obviously bad. Yet we have to follow a system in order to get them—and keep them.
 

~*~

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” the Captain says, walking around his desk. After getting stitches, and going home for a quick shower and clothing change since mine were bloody, I went back to work, ready to bust some asses and catch more bad guys. It’s seven in the morning, and Police Captain Henderson has already held a press conference on the shootings and possible involvement with drug cartels. The only problem is the people who need to see it, who are desperate for a place to stay and food to eat, the people who need to be warned, won’t be.
 

They don’t have a TV. They don’t have radios or phones or any of the shit that keeps us all connected. We’re going to have to hit the streets and hope word of mouth is enough to save some lives until we get these losers off the streets.
 

“You need to take a vacation.”
 

I raise an eyebrow and look at the Captain. “You’re joking, right?”

Looking at his face, I know he’s not. “I’m not joking. Listen, Turner. You’re a good detective. You opened this case up to what could be one of the biggest and most influential arrests this year. But you have to step back for your own sanity.”

“I can’t step back now. Not when we’re this close!”
 

Captain Haynes is distinguished, with gray hairs peppered throughout black locks. He served in the Army before serving the city of Dallas, and has been Captain for the last few years. He’s known for being a hard-ass, but he’s not a bad guy if you don’t piss him off. And what pisses him off is crappy police work. He and Andy started as traffic cops together, years back, and they have a bit of a complicated relationship in that Henderson’s wife doesn’t like Andy’s current wife since she had been good friends with the previous wife. And now Mrs. Haynes doesn’t want anything to do with the new Mrs. Andy Henderson and give the Captain hell for grabbing after-work beers with his long time buddy.
   

Like I said. Complicated.
 

“Derek,” he says, and I know shit’s getting serious when he uses my first name. We’re all on a last name basis here at the station. “You spend more time here than you do at home. I appreciate your dedication, but I’ve seen too many good cops get jaded by not taking a break. I know…I know what happened.”
 

I look away, heart skipping a beat. “That has nothing to do with this.”
 

“Sure,” he says, not convinced. A few seconds pass. “Take care of yourself and take your vacation. It doesn’t have to be immediate, but get something planned. Get out of here, go somewhere tropical, and relax on the beach. Payroll is due for an audit next month and unused vacation days don’t look good.”

I go back to my desk feeling more anxious than I did running after a dealer with no backup. Relaxing leads to thinking, and thinking brings on thoughts. Thoughts I don’t want to have, because those thoughts turn into feelings.
 

I don’t want to feel lonely.
 

I don’t want to miss being a father.
 

I don’t want to admit that I want to find love again and have a family.
 

With a sigh, I dig my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and open the ongoing group text message between my mother, sister, and I. They text back and forth in it all the time, usually about pointless stuff. I read—okay glance at—all the messages in case it’s something important but rarely respond. They have been blowing up my phone for the last month and a half after I suggested Mom go to Hawaii.
 

Because she is going. So is my sister, my aunt and my cousins. They have everything booked and planned out. All I have to do is get a plane ticket and say the word.

I feel like I’m swallowing my pride, yet there’s a part of me that knows this is necessary. Ever since Deirdre told me the baby isn’t mine, I’ve been nonstop with anything to drown out the pain. I never dealt with it. Never sat down and let myself hurt, let myself acknowledge how fucked up and wrong everything was.
 

Instead, I ignored the wound and let it fester. Infection set in and spread, poisoning not just my body but my heart as well. I’m too far gone, and only a miracle can nurse my broken soul back to health and make me capable of loving someone ever again.
 

I stare down at the screen of my phone, let out a breath and type:
I need flight info. I’ll book my ticket now.

Chapter Eleven

Rachel

Breakups aren’t like they are in the movies. You don’t eat a gallon of ice cream, have a good cry, then bounce back ready to take on the world. Breakups are hard. Consuming. The dark and depression within takes over, and no matter who you’ve surrounded yourself with, all you can think about is how you are alone.
 

It’s not that I want to get back together with Travis, because I don’t. I want to be happy again, and though it rages the feminist in me, I want to be with someone again.
 

Someday.
 

I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the last few weeks, reflecting on why I feel that I want someone to love in order to be happy. I don’t
need
someone. I’m able to get by without a love in my life, I know. But life is about more than getting by, isn’t it? That’s why we do half the shit we do, after all.
 

We buy things, frivolous things. Decorate our houses. Do our hair. Put on makeup. Workout. Dress up. None of that matters. None of that is the key to survival. Yet we do it, and work damn hard to make sure we can do those things all in the name of happiness.
 

Yet I’m still wondering if it’s wrong to have this longing in my heart. If I should ignore it and just get on with life, forsaking my happiness so I can better the lives of others. Lauren, my parents, brother, and even my bratty younger sister told me I deserve to be happy. I don’t disagree, but the others deserve it more.