Bren is fine. She has to stay a few more days to be properly monitored but she’s fine. She’s perfect.
I toss and turn on the bed. Sleep is far from me. I don’t get it. I have had my bath. I’m in a comfortable bed, I should be able to sleep but El’s scent is everywhere. She has been gone for months. Why is my nose picking up on her smell now? I punch the pillow and throw the covers off me. Joshua gave me seven hours to get some rest. Two of those have been spent trying and failing to sleep. My mind is clustered with dumb thoughts.
Another phone call to the hospital confirms Bren is fine. Joshua is the best person I call. I am tempted to ask Joshua about El but I don’t. He mumbles something about Wyn and I nod, she is in her room.
“Yeah, she’s fine.” I ruffle my hair. “Joshua, I have to go.”
Talking to Joshua increases my guilt. Will our relationship change if he finds out my plans for a divorce? I love my brother, he is a ray of sunshine but it is time to move on from this bondage with El. Shoving my feet into my crocs, I slide the phone into my sweatpants and trudge to Brianna’s room.
The door creaks open, I take one step in and the corners of my lips lift in a small smile. Wyn and Brianna are on the bed. Wyn’s arm is on her sister’s waist. Brianna is awake but she is not moving for fear of waking her sister up. I cross over to sit on the edge of the bed. She smiles up at me and my heart skips.
“Hey.” Her lips stretch in a close-lipped smile. I push one leg to the bed. “Your sister is in the hospital.”
With intense rehabilitation, Brianna has been making great progress. Her muscle strength isn’t the same as a regular person but it is near average. Walking practise with a Rollator begins soon. I have one picked out for her. The four wheeled device will allow her to move on her own. Slowly but surely, she will get there.
I push forward so my weight is supported on my elbows. “Did Wyn tell you?” I ask.
“Yesss,” her word is drawn out. She doesn’t say more.
Speech therapy has been great. But she doesn’t speak much. She barely speaks. I am not sure if it’s her personality or one of the side effects of the coma. I twirl her hair around my finger and flash her a smile. She will grow to be a pretty little thing once she’s fully recovered. We will need to discuss Vincent too.
“Do you know your mother has a brother?” Her eyes follow my movements. I sit up. My head rests on the headboard. The walls are too plain. Too dull. It needs some personal touches. I cross my legs at the ankles, place her hand on my knee. “He wants to meet you, Bri.” I sigh again. “What say you? No or no?”
When I look down, her eyes are closed. I peck both of them and leave the room. I will not be getting any sleep so I might as well return to the hospital. My stomach growls, maybe I need to eat first. Or nap too.
Lydia is in the kitchen when I reach downstairs. She gives me a curt nod. I sit on one of the high stools at the island, she passes me a plate of spaghetti and a glass of water. I need a new caregiver. This arrangement is not working anymore. I need to resume at the office, finalise the sale of the club and pick a launch date for Project El. I should also change the name, she doesn’t deserve it. Project Bri sounds better.
“How’s the girl?” Lydia asks. She sits across from me as I stir my meal on the plate without eating.
I shrug and take a bite. “Fine.”
Streaks of sunlight filter in through the window. I follow the line it creates on the island. We never talk much. Lydia is always here for me but that’s it. She doesn’t ask for much but I make sure she’s well paid.
“Bri needs a new caregiver,” I tell her. I push my plate aside. I am hungry but I have no appetite.
After Mia was fired, we both took over. The holidays and bad weather restricted us to the house but we found a way to make it work. Even if it meant I would spend less time at the office. Brianna comes first.
“You should eat,” Lydia says.
I stare at my palms on the island. “I should.”
But I don’t. I excuse myself and leave for my room.
Minutes later, I am standing in front of my wardrobe with the documents in my hands. El sent them so long ago but I never paid them mind. I had no plans to append my signature on the divorce papers because I was certain the only thing that would do us apart was death.
A weight settles on my shoulders, I release a shaky breath. Death. How fucking wrong I was.
I collapse to the bed, my fingers trace the line requesting for my signature. She was with another man while Bren was drowning. A minute or two longer, Bren would have... My eyes shut, I take a deep breath to pause those thoughts. She is fine now but what happens the next time I let her alone with the girls?
A tear leaks from my closed eyelids. I guess I will never know since she will never have access to them again. Negligence is good ground for divorce. Cheating would have been a better ground but she didn’t do that. I wish she did, it would have made this process fast and easier. Shuffling to the dresser, I take out a ball pen. A thick lump collects in my throat as I click the pointer on the top of the pen.
I stare at the line for a minute or more.
This is it. But why does it hurt? My brain wants something different from my heart. It takes a few trials for my hand to function, I flash myself an encouraging smile in the mirror. If you love someone, you will let them go. I guess it is time. It is time to let El go. I put my signature and set the pen on the dresser.
My red-rimmed eyes meet my reflection in the mirror. It hurts too goddamn much. My heart is hurting. I didn’t think it would hurt but I have held on too long. T will always be in her life. The twins already adore him. I lied when I said I would learn to tolerate him if she gave us a second chance. I cannot. I will not.
I fold the papers and tuck them in my pocket. I will have to visit the family lawyer to know what to do next. If she’s cooperative, the divorce won’t be messy. I have the upper hand. It would be hard for her to win.
Car keys in hand, I shrug on my jacket. It will be harder to convince the girls but they will come around. They love the freedom I allow them. I am not as stern as El. They will appreciate my decision in due time.
I inform Lydia before leaving the house. I make sure not to call Joshua so he doesn’t have a chance to snitch to El. My eyes seek the black car as soon as I drive into the hospital. It is still there. My lips twitch. I picture the girls smiling but the image doesn’t calm me. My car slows down beside hers, I roll down my window.
Her car is empty. I punch the steering and it triggers a horn. Deep breaths, I need to take deep breaths. She has no right to be here. I don’t want her here. After claiming a free spot in the parking lot, I bang my forehead against the steering wheel until my head hurts. The pain is a welcome distraction so I continue.
A knock on my window causes me to raise my head. Vincent motions for me to roll down the window of the passenger side. I do him a bigger favour and unlock the doors. He slides in and removes his gloves.
“Are you following me?”
Vincent wastes no time to answer. “Yes.”
At least the fucker is honest but I refuse to acknowledge him. He shivers. I chuckle and swipe my hand on my knee. Joshua hasn’t called me so I assume Bren hasn’t woken up yet. Another yawn escapes me. He drops something on the console. My eyes flicker to his face and back to the diary. I didn’t ask for it.
“One visit,” he says. His hands are clenched on his laps. His shoulders are drooped like he is as tired as I am of this whole thing. He cuts me off before I get a word out. “Think about it before you say no. Please.”
“Already did. The answer is no.” His head jerks in my direction. “I can get you arrested for following me.”
He shrugs. “Maybe but I have a feeling you won’t.”
A ghost of a smile flits to his lips as he rests his head on the window. He’s too smug and I’m too chill about his sudden appearance. A figure in a grey coat struts out of the hospital, I straighten up as she nears the black car. I hit the horn twice and El jumps. Her eyes dart to my car, I don’t know if she sees me but her hand shakes as she pries the door open and drives out of the compound.
My legs vibrate with anger. I need to hit something.
A ringtone snaps me out of my haze. My head rounds to Vincent’s face. “What are you still doing here?”
His eyes lingers on my clenched fists, he clears his throat. “Public property, I am allowed to be here.” My fist connects with the console and the diary clatters to the floor. He picks it up and raises his hands in surrender. But I don’t give a fuck. This battle is over. “Look, Brandon. I’m not asking for too much.”
“You are asking for a lot!” My chest falls. I let out a soft breath. I still have so much to say to him. I won’t give him a chance with her. He was going to go after everything I had and now he wants us to act cool. “No, you don’t get to see her. You don’t get to be in her life after making mine miserable for years.”
Vincent’s lips press into a line. He nods once, he nods twice and that defeated look takes over his face. A thick veil of awkwardness hovers over us, he sighs heavily. “What would you have done if it were you?”
“Counted my losses and moved on,” I answer with a half-shrug. All lies. But he doesn’t have to know. My arms tighten around the steering, my breath comes in slow, ragged puffs. “It’s over, Vincent. Go home.”
The door opens. A cold gust of air rushes in but it doesn’t bother any of us. Vincent puts one foot out and spares me another glance. “You should at least have her diary.” He places it on the console, too close to my reach. Motherfucker. As much as I want to, I don’t touch it. “I think she might have wanted you to have it.”
“Doesn’t matter what she thinks now, does it?”
A sad smile curves his lips, his head bows in defeat. “I guess not.”
We sit in silence until Vincent decides he has had enough of my presence. He steps out but doesn’t close the door. I drum my fingers on the steering and his head pokes in. “What happens if Sofie asks about me?”
This man thinks too highly of himself. “You don’t exist to her,” I say. Another lie. His brows furrow. “And her name is Brianna.”
Vincent shuts the door but doesn’t move an inch. Guilt pricks me the longer he stands there. I will want a chance with my nieces and nephews if I find out I have one. My finger hovers above the buttons on the control, I hit one of them and the windows roll down. Vincent doesn’t spare me a glance. I pick up the diary and flip through the pages without reading.
“Is Brendan the father?”