It’s drizzling when we pull into the parking lot. She opens the door and gets out without a backward glance. I watch her walk toward her car, her shoulders not quite as stiff as they usually are. I suddenly throw my door open and run around the car, jogging to catch up to her. I grab her arm as she reaches for the door and fling her around until she’s facing me. Then I press her against the side of her car with my body. She is momentarily stunned, her hands pushing up against my chest, like she’s not sure what I’m doing. I put my hand on the back of her head and pulling her toward me, I kiss her. I kiss her deep, the way I would kiss her if we were having sex. Our breathing sounds louder than the traffic behind us, louder than the thunder overhead.

When I pull away from her mouth, she’s panting. My hands are planted on either side of her head. I speak softly, looking at her mouth as I do. ”Do you remember the orange grove, Olivia?”

She nods, slowly. Her eyes are wide.

“Good,” I say, running a thumb along her bottom lip. “Good. I do too. Sometimes I get so numb, I have to remember that so I can feel again.”

I back away from her and get in my car. As I pull away, I look in my rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of her. She is still standing where I left her, one hand pressed against her chest.

My competition is good. Undoubtedly he’s never lied to her, broken her heart or married another woman to spite her. But she’s mine, and I’m not giving her up without a fight this time.

I wait a few days and then I text her while I’m at work.

What did he want?

I close the door to my office, loosen the top button of my dress shirt and sling my legs up on my desk.

O: He wants to work things out

I knew it was coming, but I still get a pain in my chest. Fuck that.

What did you tell him?

O: That I need time to think. Same thing I’m telling you.

No

O: No?

No

I rub a hand over my face, and then type:

You’ve had ten years to think.

O: It’s not that easy. He’s my husband.

He filed for divorce! He doesn’t want to have children with you.

O: He said he’d be willing to adopt.

I pinch the skin at the bridge of my nose and grind my teeth together.

What I was doing was wrong. I should let them be together — fix things, but I can’t.

O: Please, Caleb, give me time. I’m not the person you used to know. I need to do the right thing.

Then stay with him. That’s the right thing to do. But, I am the right thing for you.

She doesn’t respond after that.

I sit at my desk for a long time, thinking. I am unable to do any work. When my stepfather walks in an hour later, he raises his eyebrows.

“There are only two things that can put that expression on your face.” He takes a seat opposite me and folds his hands in his lap.

“And what’s that?” I love my stepfather. He’s the most perceptive man I know.

“Leah … and Olivia.”

I grimace at the first name, frown at the second.

“Ah,” he says, smiling. “I see the little raven-haired vixen is back?”

I run my thumbnail across my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth.

“You know, Caleb … I am very aware of what your mother thinks about her. But, I couldn’t disagree with her more.”

I look up at him, surprise evident on my face. He very rarely disagrees with my mother, but when he does, it’s usually because he’s right. He also never shares his personal thoughts unless asked. The fact that he’s doing it now makes me sit up straighter in my chair.

“I knew she had you the first time you brought her over. I’ve had a love like that.”

My eyes dart to his face. He never talks about his life before my mother. They’ve been married for fifteen years. He’d been married once before, but-

“Your mother,” he says, grinning. “She’s terrible — truly. I’ve never seen someone as ruthless. But, she’s good too. The two sides balance each other out. I think the first time she met Olivia, she recognized a like soul and wanted to protect you.”

My mind flashed to that first dinner. I’d brought Olivia home to meet them, and my mother had, of course, made her as uncomfortable as possible. I landed up dragging Olivia out in the middle of dinner; so angry with my mother I never wanted to speak to her again.

“Most men like danger. There is nothing sweeter than a dangerous woman,” he says. “Makes us feel a little manlier to be able to call them ours.”

He’s right … possibly. I lost interest in healthy women shortly after meeting Olivia. It’s a curse. After tasting her, I’ve rarely found a woman who I actually think is interesting. I like her darkness, her ever present sarcasm, the way she makes me work for every smile — every kiss. I like how strong she is, how hard she fights for things. I love how weak I make her. I might be her only weakness. I earned that spot and I very much want to keep it. Olivia is the type of woman that men write songs about. There are about fifty of them on my iPod that make me think of her.

“Is she available?”

I sigh and rub my forehead. “She’s separated. But he showed up again a few days ago.”

“Ah.” He strokes his beard, his eyes smiling at me.

He’s the only one in my family who knows what I did. I went on a drunken binge after Olivia left and landed up punching a cop outside of a bar. I called him to come bail me out. He didn’t tell my mother, even when I confessed everything to him about the amnesia. He never once judged me. Only affirmed that people did crazy things when it came to love.

“What do I do, Steve?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, son. She brings out the worst in you and the best in you.”

It’s true and it’s hard to hear.

“Did you tell her how you feel?”

I nod.

“Then all you can do is wait.”

“What if she doesn’t choose me?”

He grins and leans forward in his seat. “Well, there’s always Leah…”

My laugh starts in my chest and works its way out.

“Worst joke ever, Steve … worst joke ever.”

Just like that, as soon as it began again, she’s back together with Noah. I know because she doesn’t call me. She doesn’t text. She moves on with her life and leaves me in the balance.

Chapter Seventeen

My anger burned. I wanted to kill him, slowly, with my hands.

Jim … he had almost — I didn’t want to think about what he’d almost done. And what if I hadn’t been around? Who would she have called? Three years she’d lived without me, I had to remind myself. Three years of drying her own tears and staving off assholes with her spiked words. She hadn’t fallen apart without me. She’d grown tougher. I don’t know if I felt relieved or sore about it. I’d had too much pride to admit my fault in our demise. By not saying more, by not fighting harder for her, I’d allowed her to believe it was her fault. And it wasn’t. Her only fault had been her brokenness. Not knowing how to express what she was feeling. Olivia was her own worst enemy. She decided something about herself and then she sabotaged her own happiness with it. She needed the type of love that stayed no matter what. She needed to see that nothing could devalue her in my eyes. Fuck, I hated myself. But, I’d been a child. I’d been given something valuable and I hadn’t known how to take care of it. I still wasn’t sure I knew how. But, one thing was certain — if anyone touched her, I’d kill them. I was going to kill him. Make up for lost time when I hadn’t been there to protect her.

I walked calmly to my car because she was watching. As soon as I pulled out of her development, I gunned it. She’d slept against my chest, clinging to me like a child. I’d stayed awake the whole night, torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to beat the shit out of him. I carried her to her bed, just as the sun was coming up, and went back to the living room to call some hotels. When she woke up, I told her that he’d checked out the night before and left town. But, that wasn’t the case. The drunken as**ole had gone back to his hotel room and was probably sleeping off his hangover.

I found him at the Motel 6. He was still driving the same 1967 Mustang that he had in college. I remembered him from back then. Skinny kid. One of those emotionally androgynous men who wore skinny jeans and eyeliner and liked to talk about their favorite bands. I never understood what Olivia saw in him. She could have had anyone. His Mustang was parked directly outside room 78. I could see my reflection in it as I passed by. I pounded on the door. It only hit me later that it might not have been his room. I heard a muffled voice and the sounds of something being knocked over. Jim swung open the door, looking enraged. He reeked of alcohol. I could smell it from two feet away. When he saw my face, his expression transitioned from surprise to curiosity … then landed soundly on fear.

“What the-”

I shoved him inside and kicked the door closed. The room smelled.

Slipping my watch from my wrist, I tossed it on the bed. Then I hit him.

He fell back, crashing into the dresser and knocking over a lamp. I was on him before he could stand up. I yanked him to his feet by his shirt, his legs flailing beneath him trying to find ground.

I set him on his feet, and then I hit him again.

“Caleb,” he said. He held one hand over his nose, which was bleeding through his fingers, and the other he extended toward me, palm outstretched. “I was drunk, man — I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I don’t give a f**k if you’re sorry.”

He shook his head.

“Shit,” he said. “Shit.” He bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and started laughing.

I ground my teeth together until I was sure they’d turn to dust.

“You lied to her about the amnesia.” He was laughing so hard he could barely speak. I shoved him.

He staggered back, but he was still laughing. “You’re just as bad as me, man. The two of you pretending not to know each other, it’s like a f**king-”

I grabbed the front of his shirt and flung him sideways. He landed on the bed; laughing so hard he was holding his stomach. Infuriated, I went after him again.

Before he could say anything else, I pulled him up and held him against the wall.

“You don’t know anything about us.”

“Don’t I?” he hissed. “Who do you think was there for her after you cheated on her and left?”

“I didn’t,” I said through my teeth, and then I clenched my jaw. I didn’t need to explain anything to this little shit.

“You speak to her again, I kill you. You look at her again, I kill you. You breathe in her direction-”

“You kill me,” he finished.

He shoved me, but the guy was like one fifty soaking wet. I didn’t move.

“You’ve been killing her since the day you met her,” he spat at me. That hit me hard. I thought about the day I saw her in the record store and how there seemed to be no light left in her eyes. “Why’d you come back? You should have left her alone.”

Blood was smeared across his face and his greasy hair was sticking up. I looked down at him impassively. “You think you could have had her if I hadn’t?”

My words hit him somewhere deep. His eyes rolled to the side and his nostrils flared. So, he was in love with her too? I laughed, which sent him into a rage. He struggled against my hold, his face clammy and red.

“She’s mine,” I said into his face.

“Fuck you,” he said.

I hit him again.

Chapter Eighteen

I don’t hear anything from her. How much time goes by? Everything feels so much longer when you’re hurting. I am so consumed by thoughts of her, that when a few people from work invite me to go out for drinks, I agree just for the distraction. Among the group is a girl who works in the accounting department and flirts with me relentlessly. Steve raises his eyebrows when he sees me leaving with them.

“A word of advice,” he says, as I stop in his office to say goodbye. “When you’re in love with a woman, you shouldn’t get involved with other women.”

“Noted,” I say. “Though, I would like to offer that she is probably sleeping with another man as we speak.”

“You still think she’s coming back to you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she always does.”

He nods as if that settles things.

We land up at an upscale martini bar in Fort Lauderdale. I leave my suit jacket in the car and loosen a few buttons on my shirt. One of the girls smiles at me as we walk toward the bar. I think her name is Asia spelled Aja.

“Your ass looks great in pinstripes,” she says. My buddy, Ryan claps me on the back. I’ve known him since college. Steve gave him a job when we graduated as a favor to me. Turns out he’s pretty good at what he does. Ryan looks at Aja with mock sympathy.

“This guy,” he smirks, “is not going to sleep with you.”

Aja grins. “That would be a new experience for me.”

I laugh and really look at her for the first time. She reminds me of Cammie.

“Broken heart?” she asks, ignoring Ryan who is trying to insert himself between us.

“Something like that.”

“I specialize in those.” She winks at me, and now she reminds me of Leah. I shiver involuntarily. I don’t want to be reminded of Leah.

“I’ve grown attached to my broken heart. I think I’ll keep it.” I hold the door open for the girls, who file in one by one. Aja waits for me on the other side of the door, and I inwardly groan. I’d rather not spend the night fighting off advances from a woman I’m not interested in. On the other hand, she’d be no work at all. I don’t like that. Women hold all the power. They should use it like a whip, not offer it up like a sacrifice.