Page 84 of The Witness

It wasn’t the right time to do or say this. But fuck it, we’d make it work.

“I love you,” I shouted at him, my hands planted on my hips, my chin jutted out. Something almost like rage coursed through my veins.

He froze, his phone in one hand, his finger poised to tap the screen. Probably calling 9-1-1. He blinked at me, waiting for me to say more.

The words flowed like water gushing from a burst pipe.

“I know this is the wrong time to,” I waved my hands wildly, looking for the right words, “declare my feelings. But after seeing that, I had to tell you. I want you. I want us. I would give anything for another day with Hailey, another day loving her. Why should I waste days of loving you because I fear what I’m feeling?”

I exhaled. The rage that had fueled my outburst transmuted into pure bliss. Not telling him I loved him had been denying what was happening between us. I should have told him days ago. When he had been shirtless bartending at my mom’s, or at the beach on Christmas, or any of the last few nights when we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“You are right. Time won’t change us. I love you.” He shoved his phone away and took me back into his arms.

“I could have lost you,” I whispered as I collapsed into the embrace.

It was the most amazing of his amazing hugs to date.

“Siren, you’re stuck with me now.”

I buried my face in his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. I squeezed him tight to enjoy one more moment of calm before the ramifications of what had happened tonight set in. I wasn’t worried about telling Michael I loved him. It was the dead man ten feet away that had me concerned.

We broke apart slowly. My eyes fluttered open and unfortunately, the first thing I saw was the trickle of bloodoozing toward the storm drain. I longed to step back into his arms and hide from real life for a few more minutes.

He already had his phone out.

“Nine-one-one?” I asked.

“Yeah, then Smith. He’ll want to run interference.”

“What can I do?” I sounded exhausted.

“Come here.” He pulled me to his side, one arm around me. “Stay at my side. That is more than enough for now.”

I was close enough to hear the emergency dispatcher ask him the nature of his emergency.

As he gave her the Clif’s Notes version of the situation, I focused on him—the unimportant details. The sheen of sweat on his forehead, his white knuckles clutching the phone. The tight, stiff way he held his shoulders.

He was scared.

He hung up with 9-1-1 and called Smith.

“I killed Coyote.” Michael didn’t even say hello or preface the information with any details.

“About time. Was it justifiable homicide?” Smith, assumedly asleep at 4am, hadn’t missed a beat. He’d instantly gone on defense for one of his people. I knew with the same certainty that the sun rose in the east he would keep Michael out of jail and make all this disappear.

I’d never been so grateful for the ex-spy. Not even when he gave me my life back.

“Yes, he had a gun. I had a fucking fruit knife. I already called the cops.” He squeezed my shoulder, and I leaned even closer to him.

Epilogue

Sabrina

“Thank you all for coming tonight.” I looked around Viande’s dining room and smoothed the flyaway strands of my auburn bob. Every table was full. The faces that looked back at me were familiar or famous. All of them were clapping for me. Okay, not just me; it took a team to get to opening night.

“I will not talk long. You are here to eat, not to listen to me. But there are people I must thank for making tonight possible. First and foremost, my late daughter.” I paused and waved a hand in front of my face to ward off tears. “She would have been eighteen this year. Old enough to vote. Old enough to pay taxes and start college. But life didn’t work out like that for her. I miss her every day. She encouraged me to do this and not halfway do it. Likefull-on, throw-caution-to-the-wind commit to my goal. She was right, there is no halfway when you’re an entrepreneur.”

I picked up a glass of champagne and lifted it up. My eyes followed my glass, looking up but not seeing the freshly painted ceiling or decorative beams. Instead I saw the smile on my daughter's face. “Hailey, we did it.”

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