“Not to worry. Varo’s not Nina’s type. I suspect, if those muscles aren’t all from nature, he’s not her friend’s type either,” he said with a chuckle.
“What?” I asked, feeling the smallest relief from his words.
“Nothing. We have more important things to do than gossip about lovesick girls like hens. It’s time you returned to the land of the living. Get your stuff, but don’t bother shaving.” He looked me up and down and added, “You look like you’ve been sleeping with your head in manure. That’s good, though. The longer hair works for what we need.”
I hadn’t touched a razor to my face more than three times in the past months, even after I’d decided to quit losing myself in coke and alcohol. After the initial itchiness, I’d gotten used to the beard and seen it as yet another thing I didn’t have to bother with every day. Not that I had a lot to deal with other than cultivating my self-loathing and missing Nina.
The hair, on the other hand, drove me crazy. I’d kept my hair short since I became CEO of Stone Worldwide, and having it hang in my eyes was a pain in the ass.
“I look almost as bad as you,” I joked as I began to gather my things into a duffel bag.
“You wish you looked that good in a beard. You kids today don’t appreciate the fine art of the beard,” he said proudly as he continued to stroke the shaggy hair around his chin.
“Are you planning to tell me where we’re going or do I just get to be in the dark about my immediate future?”
“Sure. We’ll be flying coach back to the States so you get to experience the pain and suffering I’ve had to endure all these times back and forth to visit you here and from there we’ll be getting you settled into your new place where you’ll have to stay for a while. I’ve made sure it’s close enough for you to keep an eye on the house but far enough away to make sure you’re not seen.”
I stopped stuffing clothes into the bag and turned to face him standing next to me. “So I get to spy on my own house and Nina is what you’re saying.”
“Spy is such an ugly word in this case. I just think it would help to have another pair of eyes watching when we can. I don’t plan to live out in the middle of nowhere, no offense, so you can.”
I thought about all the time I’d spent out at the country house and smiled at Daryl’s description of it. After all this time away, it was the only place in the world I thought of as home. Far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the house was where Nina and I had fallen in love. How many hours had we spent just lying in each other’s arms at that house, every second of our time together the most wonderful moments of my life? There was nowhere else I wanted to be, but if all I could have was somewhere close to Nina, then I’d take it and do whatever I had to in order to get back to my life with her.
“Ready to get your life back?”
“I am, and Karl better hope to God he doesn’t get in my way. I have too much to fight for to let him get what he wants.”
I took one last look around the rooms where I’d spent months hiding out from the rest of the world. I’d lost part of myself in this place, the one part that I couldn’t live without. Even though Nina had never given up on me all the while I’d been here, I’d given up. Now it was time to take the chance again to have the life I knew I wanted more than anything else.
Chapter Six
Nina
Jordan’s leaving sent me into an emotional tailspin, and for days I didn’t get out of bed. Nothing made me feel better, even texting Tristan. How could it? I felt like I was constantly sending out messages in bottles and although I knew he received them, since he never answered it was a one-sided conversation, at best. As the days dragged by, my unhappiness morphed into anger at everything and everyone.
I wanted answers. I wanted Tristan to finally send a message back, even if it just said that he received my texts. I wanted him to hear what my words were saying and come back, even if it wasn’t safe for him or me. I didn’t care for excuses. I wanted him back.
Our bed became the only place I wanted to be because it reminded me of him. No matter how many times the sheets had been washed, they still held his scent. Not of his cologne but him. Closing my eyes, I imagined him next to me, silent as a statue as I chattered on about something. Like he always did, he smiled when I looked up to see if he was paying attention, muttering, “I’m listening” when I gave him that questioning look because he’d said nothing for so long.
God, I missed him.
My phone still held months of messages to him, so I spent my time scrolling through them reading my feelings for him as the time passed. Some were sad, while others made me smile. Each one marked a moment in time without him.