Page 69 of Fun and Games
The hurt in Mason's shocked silence was nearly audible.
"Please," I said, my voice thin and thready. I still hadn't turned to look at him. "Just go."
"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll go."
Mason's halting footsteps headed to the front hallway, then the door creaked open and closed, and he was gone.
I crushed the paper in my clenched fist and collapsed to my knees, no longer able to suppress the wracking sobs from escaping my throat and leaving my howling lips.
Twenty-Seven
A bird chirped.A car honked. The wind whistled through the trees, audible through an open window.
I sat on the sofa, staring at the wall. It was a bland, off-white beige.
A series of water droplets fell from the kitchen faucet into the sink. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I hugged a throw pillow to my chest.
A door slammed from across the hall, one of the neighbors returning home.
Without consciously thinking about it, my gaze slowly drifted over to the coffee table, falling on two rings and a crumpled piece of paper.
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I buried my face in the pillow, the fabric still damp from my previous bouts of crying.
I should have put them away. I should have put them back in the box and shoved the whole package into the back of my closet, where it couldn't hurt me. Where it couldn't haunt me.
But I didn't.
I left the rings — my and David's wedding rings — sitting out on the coffee table, right in the middle of the apartment, where I was forced to look at them.
Was I a masochist? Did I enjoy the pain tearing its way through my chest? Did I welcome the pit of despair that yawned open in my stomach?
Maybe.
Maybe I was. Maybe I did.
Maybe this was my punishment.
I lifted my head from the pillow to stare at the piece of paper. Even though it was crinkled, I could still make out David's handwriting.
I'd memorized the words he'd written down. They'd been burned into my brain, like a cattle brand seared into flesh.
The last thing he'd ever wanted to do… His very last wish…
Vowing to love, honor and cherish me until his last breath.
A heaving sob threatened to make its way out of my throat.
I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed it down.
My stomach rumbled.
How long had it been since I'd last eaten? If I couldn't remember, it had probably been too long.
I forced myself to look away from the coffee table and rubbed at my wet cheeks with the backs of my hands. I took my first stumbling movement off the sofa, nearly tripping over my own numb and tingling feet.
I shuffled my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I looked inside it. I stared into it. I stared.
