Page 73 of Hell of a Mess
When Mal was satisfied we were coming, he stepped backinside.
Luther leaned down close to my ear. “You were never a burden, and my absence wasn’t because you were in my guest bedroom,” he said in a gruff whisper.
Then he straightened and followed me into the dining room.
After countless nights of sleeping on a concrete floor, cold and in the dark, missing my mother, I’d grown numb—or it had become my reality. What I was accustomed to and expected.
Then the day came that my father needed me to be Dalia. Make appearances at galas, business dinners, and other events. He hadn’t moved me back to the bedroom I’d had when my mother was alive though. I was placed in the bedroom that had been created out of a walk-in closet for Dalia’s nurse. She and I shared the small space. He’d had a twin mattress moved in there, but not a frame. Two twins wouldn’t have left room for anyone to walk. Every morning, I had to fold up my bedding and stand the mattress on its side and lean it against the wall.
Sorrow had faded for me somewhere along the way. I would always miss my mother, but I had come to accept my lot in life. I woke up daily and went through the motions. After Ms. Lune’s second stroke, she lost her speech ability and some of her mobility as well and was no longer able to remain in her position. Alpheus had decided that I’d be Dalia’s daily caretaker unless I was needed to perform as Dalia at some event for him. The less people who knew the truth about Dalia, the better for him.
Tonight, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Luther in my head, the heaviness on my chest reminded me that I could still feel sorrow and loss. I could miss someone so desperately that it ached all over. Watching Lutherleave tonight had been physically painful. All during dinner, he’d sat beside me, kept me in the conversation, smiled at me, and praised me when I ate something.
But with his absence came the darkness.
A glow lit up my room, and I glanced around, confused as to where it was coming from. Then the vibrating sound against the nightstand drew my attention, and I saw my cell phone, which I never used, was the one causing both the light and the noise. It had been left there, plugged into the charger since I’d arrived here. Sitting up in bed, I reached for it, thinking perhaps it was Mal telling me good night or checking on me. However, the sight of Luther’s name on the screen sent off a burst of joy through me.
I unlocked my phone, almost frantic to see his words. Anything to connect me to him.
Luther: You awake?
Me: Yes.
I sent my response, then gripped the phone so tightly that it was as if I was afraid it was going to disappear and take this away from me.
Luther: Bad dreams?
Balancing the phone on my cast, I typed out my response.
Me: Not yet.
I hated closing my eyes, for fear they would come. Luther was right. I did have dark circles under my eyes.
Luther: If you were here, I’d make sure they stayed away, although my willpower was never something to brag about before, and the little I managed with you is slipping.
I reread that several times. What did he mean by it?
Me: I wish I were there.
Might as well stick with honesty.
Luther: You sure about that?
More than he could ever know.
Me: Yes. I’ve wished I were there since I left.
I bit down on my bottom lip before hitting Send. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
Luther’s text didn’t light up the screen next; his call did.
My heart jumped up into my throat as I hit Answer, then placed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I said, hearing the uncertainty in my voice.
Had he meant to call me? I hoped it wasn’t an accident.
“That’s better,” he replied. The deep timbre in his voice gaveme goose bumps, and I smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt. “I hate texting shit. Much rather hear your voice.”
