Page 57 of Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You
Shae’s thumb strokes Nick’s fingers as they walk with Max to the front desk. A nauseating mix of bleach and orange scented air freshener turns his stomach. The lavish flower arrangements and expensive furniture unable to camouflage the gloominess radiating through the hallways.
A teenage girl with a blonde ponytail and hot pink braces steps out of one of the rooms, pushing a white cart piled with books and magazines. Her eyes widen after her double take at Shae. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you. I’m your biggest fan. I swear to God I cried the first time I heard ‘Letting Him Go.’ See, look!” She holds out her arm. “I actually have goose bumps.”
Shae smiles and winks at him, a hint of sparkle remains in her eyes after their love making earlier. “Thank you. That’s one of my favorite songs too.”
“Can I have your autograph? Will you sign my hand? No, my stomach!” The girl lifts the hem of her lime green tee. “Here—”
“Sarah!”
They turn to the voice at the end of the hall. A light-haired woman in a tight, black suit strides toward them, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry for her unprofessional behavior. We encourage youth volunteers, but… Anyway, I’m Marilyn Chastain, the chief administrator here. How may I help you?”
“I’m Nick DeMarco. This is my wife, Shae.”
Her face takes on a sympathetic frown as she nods, probably honed from years of experience. “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. DeMarco. Please come this way to my office.”
They follow her down a short, beige corridor lined with a white handrail. She motions for them to take the seats in front of her massive desk, glancing at Max standing in the doorway before turning back to Nick. “I have the papers in order, marked with the places requiring your signature. But, before that, do you have any questions?”
He reaches for the pen and signs the first line before she finishes speaking. Nothing to ask when all he needs to know is that the bastard’s dead. Shae’s caress on his thigh is the only thing he thinks about.
“Once the procedure is complete, we’ll file all of the proper paperwork and documentation. His body will be transported to the coroner’s office for an autopsy—standard procedure in this type of situation—then he’ll be moved to the funeral home of your choice.”
He nods and slides the forms back to her.
“Thank you. Now, I’m sure you would like to spend some time with your father before we proceed. I’m happy to escort you to his room.”
Nope. They’re finished here. He takes Shae’s hand and stands up. “Thank you, Mrs. Chastain. That’s not necessary.”
Her eyes widen as she strokes the over-sized button at the throat of her white blouse, a nervous habit she probably doesn’t even realize she has. “Well, I…”
“Nick?” Shae’s soft voice is full of goodness he doesn’t feel.
“How about I give you two a moment?” The administrator glances between them before smiling at Max and closing the door behind her.
Shae strokes his fingers as they face each other, frown lines wrinkling her forehead. He drops his eyes, hiding from the questions in hers. This is the real him. Not the good man she thinks he is, but the bastard who doesn’t want to make nice or make up. He just wants to get the fuck out of here. Go home and hold his wife. Make her face light up with the humongous smile he likes to believe is meant only for him. Feel her sweet head against his chest in the fading sunlight.
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Okay.” No hint of disappointment or chastising in her voice.
He meets her gaze again. “You’re not going to try and talk me into it?”
“No, I just wanted you to think about it before dismissing the idea completely. I didn’t want you to regret it later.”
Without nagging or guilt, she reminds him of the kindness in her heart, the gentleness guiding her conscience. No other woman could be this amazing. He cups her face and kisses her softly before leading her out of the office.
With Max guarding Shae in the hallway, Nick pushes open the windowed door. His father lays motionless, tubes snaking to his nose and mouth. Thick blankets cover his withered body, only a trace of his old self still recognizable. Unlike the other patient rooms they passed, no photographs or personal nick knacks decorate his room, the space empty like his soul. Just like he deserves.
“My sweet wife probably thinks I’ll come in here and find some way to forgive you. Or get closure, whatever the fuck that means. But you need to know that’s never going to happen. I hate you. I’m glad you’re dead. My only regret is that I wasn’t the one to do it to you.”
Salvador remains still, the whoosh of the ventilator muffling the piped-in music coming through the speakers in the ceiling. No longer a threat. No longer the shadow darkening his happiness.
“I’ve married the most incredible woman and having a child of my own. All the things I never thought I could have because of you. Because I was so fucking scared I would be a monster like you. But now I know better. When I saw her lying on the floor and thought she was…”
He can’t finish. The words are too unbearable to say out loud. Too agonizing to think about. He glances backward, finding her through the window, assuring himself she’s safe.
“My fucking world almost ended. I would lose my fucking mind without her, and I knew I could never hurt her. I knew I could never be you.”
He steps closer. The fury in his chest crawls up his throat, trying to strangle his words. But there’s one last thing this motherfucker needs to hear.
