Page 43 of Remember (Symbols of Love 2)

“And one night after a particularly brutal argument with my mother where she had basically told him she was leaving him; he came into my room. And we had a long talk about life, but mostly about love and relationships. He urged me to never give up on you. He told me what he and my mother had was not love, and that I shouldn’t let their fucked-up situation prevent me from trying to create my own family.

“And then the next morning, after I left for school, he went into his closet and hung himself. He left a note. It said he was worth more to us dead than alive and that the policy would pay for college, give my mother a nice income for the rest of her life and pay off all of our debts.”

It’s only when Milly’s lips touch my cheek I feel the moisture there. I didn’t even realize I had started to cry. I’ve never told anyone the entire story before.

“So, when you called, my mother and I were in a very dark place. I blamed her for his death. I felt that she had driven him to do it. She was angry at me and said I was blaming her when really I should be blaming people like your father. That they wouldn’t be in this position if Enron hadn’t collapsed.”

Milly wraps her arms around me and buries her face into my neck.

“Oh, God, and you were alone. I wasn’t there for you, and you went through this alone. I’m sorry, baby. You lost your dad. You also, essentially, lost your mother. And, on top of this you thought you’d lost me.”

She leans back and kisses me.

“You’re not alone anymore, D. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“I know, baby, and I’m okay. Really. It’s good to get this out.”

I kiss her temple and we sit there holding each other. I feel the energy, the one that has always existed between us flowing. The connection which tied me to this woman from the first time we talked. I know her heart and if I don’t let pride and fear get in the way, I can always see it very clearly. And I know she doesn’t want to go back to the conversation about her father. But we must.

“We need to dig into this thing with your dad a bit more because I have a theory,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence we’ve found ourselves in.

“Of course, you do. Go ahead, tell me,” she says with a bit of her dry humor coloring her voice.

“I don’t think your dad disappearing had anything to do with Enron.” She stiffens.

“What? Then why would he disappear on the day of the collapse. Why did he clean out his 401k right before the stock tanked?”

“He saw it coming. And used it as cover for the real reason he left.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she's thinking.

“His leaving doesn’t make sense and when things don’t make sense it’s usually because there is another explanation. I don’t know what it is yet. But I think we should try to find out.”

“We should?” she asks in a voice as skeptical as I’ve ever heard it.

“Yes, but we have to talk about it more later. I suggest we start with your mom.” My phone alerts me to an incoming text and I stand up, sliding her off my lap, I reach into my pocket and pull it out.

“It’s my driver. He’s outside. I’ve got to get to the airport.” I look back at her, hating that I’m leaving in the middle of this conversation. Hating that I have to leave at all. “I’m sorry to leave you right now, but I’ll call you tonight when I get to my hotel.”

“No, it’s okay. My mom should be back in a couple of hours, and I’ve got a lot to do. I need to call Cristal and let her know I’ll take the job.” She smiles and pecks me on the lips. “And I need to get back to planning your event.”

She gives me a wink as she saunters out of the room and I watch her go and think how sweet that ass is and how I hope this week sails by so I can get back to her.

18

* * *

After I’ve said goodbye to Milly, I hop into the back of my SUV and Greg, without saying anything, points the car in the direction of Regan National Airport.

I’ve just buckled my seat belt when my phone rings. I swear under my breath when I see the caller ID flashing Nicola. I think about sending it to voicemail, but I know she will just call me again and again.

“Yes. What do you need?” I snap. My head starts to hurt right away. Talking to my ex-fiancée is a nuisance, but given she still lives in my apartment, it can’t be avoided.

“I wish you wouldn’t be this way. I don’t know how else to say I’m sorry,” she whines. I can’t believe I used to like the sound of her voice.

“You could have just been honest to begin with, then you could have avoided saying you were sorry,” I clip back. My good mood has completely evaporated. Conversations with Nicola drag me back to a place I don’t ever want to be again.

“Dean, please, I know you’re still angry, but it’s been three months. I won’t do anything like this again. I didn’t think you would even care. You have more money than you know what to do with. Why do you care so much how I spend it?” She continues whining in my ear.

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