“Hi.” She’s wearing a lopsided grin, her hair is pulled to the top of her head in a topknot and she’s dressed in an oversized white sweater and black leggings. Instantly the panic that was climbing up my body starts to recede. I think back to the day when we first talked about Caylen in that little hotel room. It seems like so much time has passed since then, how much closer I’ve gotten to her, how I fell in love with a woman I already loved at first sight. But who is she seeing? Who does she think I am? I try to wrestle those thoughts from my mind.
Does it matter?
It’s always mattered.
“Hey,” my own voice is unsteady, but it’s not cold and rigid as I expected it to be. She approaches me carefully only stopping when we’re a few inches apart. She looks up at me, her lopsided grin now a warm smile as she touches my cheek.
“You cut your hair,” she lightly runs her finger across it. I swallow hard. Does she know it’s me?
“Lauren who…” I begin to ask, and her smile softens.
“Chris, I know.” Her slender arms wrap around my waist, and she rests her head on my chest. I can’t help but feel the elation course through me. She knows it’s me, and she’s glad I’m back. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.
“I missed you,” her voice is quiet, but she squeezes me tighter as she says this. I loosen my grip and lean back to see her face.
“How long have I been gone?”
She swallows hard and lets out a small breath. “Let’s sit down okay.”
I take in a huge breath and follow her as we sit down at the table I don’t recall being there before, but maybe I just never noticed it. I haven’t been here a lot to know it like the back of my hand. My heart rate picks up. I sit down, and my eyes follow her as she heads into the kitchen and pulls out a water bottle and a sandwich out of the microwave. She sits it in front of me, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until she did.
“It hasn’t been years, has it?” I laugh, hoping my question comes off as a joke, but it feels as if I haven’t eaten in a millennium. I fight the urge to shove it down my throat, but I lose out as I take a huge bite. It’s roast beef and turkey with honey mustard—my favorite. I watch her as she watches me, her head resting in the palm of her hand. When I push the sandwich away, it’s halfway gone. She’s been quiet while waiting for me to finish. I scratch the back of my head, tension starting to climb.
“How long has it been? I can handle it.”
She folds her hands in front of her. “Almost two months.”
I nod, okay two months. I feel my fists involuntarily clench. Two months, I’ve been out of it. I think back to our last conversation, that day she told me that I had been gone a month…. so in total I’ve lost about three months of time. I grip the table and let out a long frustrated breath, then remind myself to get it together.
Three months, but the last time after everything that happened why did I leave? Cal was the one who should have left after trying to kill someone and finding out he was wrong. Why did I have to be gone so long? None of this makes sense. She’s watching me, waiting for me to respond, and she’s squeezing her wrist, a telltale sign when she’s nervous. Before I lost time I felt like I was on an emotional seesaw. Everything I felt was more heightened—anger, despair, annoyance—and I flipped between them so rapidly. I don’t feel like that today, but I still feel on edge, irritable and I have to get a grip.
At this particular moment it doesn’t exactly matter why I was gone, but that I’m back.
Right.
“So Cal’s been here this whole time?” I let out a frustrated breath and fold my hands trying to remain calm. Her eyes dart from mine to her own hands. She shifts in her chair.
“Not exactly,” she says nervously. My eyes narrow in on her.
“What do you mean?”
“Cal hasn’t been here at all actually because Collin took over.” Her face is blank, but she seems to be hiding another expression… is it worry, is it fear…?
It’s nothing. You have to remember you aren’t the only one dealing with a less than ideal situation.
“Wait a minute, Collin?” I am surprised and laugh. I almost forgot the guy’s name. She nods slightly. I throw my head back and laugh again, but I can’t help feeling slightly satisfied that it wasn’t Cal. I sort of know how he operates at least, but this Collin I don’t know anything about. The satisfaction I felt starts to sink as I realize he could be worse… or better. I steady myself for more answers.
“So, what’s his deal?” I try to keep my voice calm. “He wants to take over my life too? Does he want to kill anyone?” I ask her jokingly, but my tone is serious.
She shifts in her seat again. She’s quiet a moment, contemplative as if trying to choose her words and that’s something I really haven’t seen her do before. Lauren usually says what’s on her mind.
“Collin’s different from both you and Cal.” Her eyes are still glued to her hands, and it takes a few moments before they reach mine again. I asked her this question before, but back then she said she didn’t really know him. Almost two months gives her plenty of time, and I feel my heart flinch in my chest.
I wonder if she slept with this guy and if she likes him more than Cal and me.
That’s not important right now, Christopher.
Christopher. I don’t call myself Christopher. I try to calm my thoughts, drown them out… is this guy talking to me?
“Chris, are you okay?” Lauren looks extremely concerned.
I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah I’m okay.” I try to wipe the frown from my face. I’m okay, just maybe hearing someone else’s voice in my head! She looks at me skeptically, and I smile weakly at her.
“I’m fine, go ahead. Tell me more.” I plead with her. “How…is he different from me?” I ask again because Lauren’s opinion of this guy means a lot to me. She actually gets to know all of us firsthand. I only get to hear things secondhand, or with Cal I see some of what happened with him, when he feels like sharing I guess.
“He’s smart,” she starts quietly. Her eyes widen. “Not that you and Cal aren’t.”
I bite the inside of my jaw, trying to remain unbiased. “Go ahead, no disclaimers needed.” She looks at me trying to see if I’m telling the truth. “Seriously, talk to me like I’m not me… or them… like I’m Hillary or actually Angela.” She grins, but I can tell she feels a little more comfortable and less hesitant to talk.
“He’s very refined. You could probably see that if you checked out his closet.” She chuckles lightly. I force a smile.
“He’s very into the work he does at Crestfield Corp. He likes to read, he’s not as unpredictable as Cal is but… I never really know what he wants…”
“What do you mean?” I lean forward. She gives me a half-shrug, then sits up straighter in her chair.
“With you and Cal… I know that you both are against… integrating. I know if you could choose, ideally it would be just you.” I can’t disagree with her on that. If there was a magic potion or pill, I’d take it in a second to get rid of them and whoever else wants to be in control of my life.