Beautiful Redemption by Jamie McGuire

  "Hey, beautiful."

  "They won't take your money at the strip club?" I asked.

  He grimaced. "You're in a shitty mood. I know you're not teacher's pet anymore but no need to project your anger."

  I took a drink. "What do you know about being teacher's pet? No one likes you."

  "Ouch," Sawyer said, offended.

  "I'm sorry. That was harsh. But in my defense, you would make at least one friend if you signed your damn papers."

  He blinked. "Wait--what are we talking about?"

  "Your divorce papers."

  "I know, but are you saying we're not friends anymore?"

  "We are not," I said before taking another drink.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake, Liis. You spend one weekend with Maddox, and you're drinking the Kool-Aid." He shook his head and took a swig from the beer bottle Anthony had set down in front of him. "I'm disappointed."

  "Just sign the papers. How hard is that?"

  "Contrary to popular belief, ending a marriage is hard."

  "Really? I thought it would be easier for a cheater."

  "I didn't cheat!"

  I arched an eyebrow.

  "Her"--he gestured to his eyes and head--"thing was driving me nuts. Do you have any idea what it's like to be with someone and not be allowed to have any secrets?"

  "Then, why would you cheat on her? You were basically asking for a divorce, and now, you won't give her one."

  He laughed once, chugged his beer, and then set it on the bar. "Because I thought she'd stay out of my head after that."

  "That," I said, nodding to Anthony when he set down a fresh Manhattan, "makes you sound like an idiot."

  He fingered his bottle. "I was. I was an idiot. But she won't let me fix it."

  I craned my neck at him. "You're still in love with Val?"

  He kept his eyes on his beer. "Who do you think gave her the bunny on her desk for her birthday? Damn sure wasn't Marks."

  "Oh, shit," Anthony said. "I had a bet going with Marks that you were gay."

  "Your gaydar is off," I said.

  One side of Anthony's mouth curved up. "I bet that he was straight."

  Sawyer's nose wrinkled. "Marks thinks I'm gay? What the fuck?"

  I cackled, and just as Anthony leaned over to speak, Thomas sat in the stool next to me.

  "Anthony needs to tell you that I'm here," Thomas said.

  My back stiffened, and my smile faded. "Maddox," I said, greeting him.

  "No shade, Maddox," Anthony said. "I just promised I'd have her back from now on."

  Thomas looked confused.

  "He means, no offense," I said.

  "Oh," Thomas said.

  "The usual?" Anthony asked, seeming annoyed that I'd had to translate.

  "I'll have a Jack and Coke tonight," Thomas said.

  "You got it."

  Sawyer leaned forward. "Bad day, boss?"

  Thomas didn't answer. Instead, he stared at his hands clasped in front of him on the bar.

  Sawyer and I traded glances.

  I continued our conversation, "Does she know?"

  "Of course she knows. She knows everything," Sawyer said with a grimace.

  "It might just be time to move on."

  A couple of young guys pushed through the door. I'd never seen them here before, but they walked with their chests puffed out and their arms swinging. I began to turn around as one of them gave me a once-over.

  "Nice blazer, Yoko," he said.

  Sawyer put his foot on the ground and began to stand, but I touched his arm.

  "Ignore them. The Casbah had a rock concert tonight. They're probably coming from there and looking for a fight. Look at the big one's shirt."

  Sawyer quickly glanced in the pair's direction, pointing out the two-inch long rip around the collar of the man's T-shirt. We ordered another round. Thomas finished his drink, tossed a bill on the bar, and left without a word.

  "That was weird," Sawyer said. "He hasn't been in here in how long?"

  "Over two weeks," Anthony said.

  Sawyer spoke, "And he shows up, has one drink, and leaves."

  "Doesn't he usually only have one drink?" I asked.

  Anthony nodded. "But never when he has that look on his face."

  I turned toward the door, seeing the ripped T-shirt guy and his friend leaving. "That didn't last long."

  "I heard them say they were bored. Apparently, the service was too slow," Anthony said with a wink.

  "You're brilliant," I said with a grin.

  "You should talk to Val one more time, Sawyer. Lay it all out on the table. If she doesn't go for it though, you need to move out, and you need to sign those papers. You're not being fair to her."

  "You're right. I hate you, but you're right. And no matter what you say, Lindy, we're still friends."

  "Fine."

  Sawyer and I tabbed out, said good-bye to Anthony, and then walked across the dark room, pushing out the door. The sidewalk was well lit, traffic was normal, but something was off.

  Sawyer touched my arm.

  "You, too?" I asked.

  We carefully approached the corner, and someone groaned.

  Sawyer meant to take a quick peek around, but he stared, and his mouth fell open. "Oh, shit!"

  I followed him and immediately pulled out my cell phone. The two men from the bar were lying in matching puddles of blood.

  "Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?"

  "I have two males, early to mid-twenties, badly beaten on the sidewalk in Midtown. They're both going to need an ambulance on the scene."

  Sawyer checked them both. "This one's unresponsive," he said.

  "They're both breathing. One is unresponsive."

  I gave her the address and then pressed End.

  Sawyer glanced around. A middle-aged couple was walking in the opposite direction on the next block, but other than them and a homeless man digging in the trash on the corner to the north, the block was empty. I saw no one who looked suspicious.

  Sirens echoed in the distance.

  Sawyer shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "I guess they found the fight they were looking for."

  "Maybe it was the people they had a run-in with earlier?"

  Sawyer shrugged. "Not my jurisdiction."

  "Funny."

  A police cruiser arrived within minutes, followed soon after by an ambulance. We told them what we knew, and once we offered them credentials, we were free to leave.

  Sawyer walked me to the lobby and gave me a hug.

  "Sure you don't want me to walk you home?" I asked. "Whoever did that could still be out there."

  Sawyer chuckled. "Shut up, Lindy."

  "Good night. See you tomorrow."

  "Nope. I'll be out."

  "Oh, right. The, uh...the thing," I said. My head was fuzzy. I was glad we'd decided to leave the bar when we did.

  "I'm tailing one of our Vegas sources, Arturo."

  "Benny's guy? Why is he in San Diego?" I asked.

  "Benny sent him to visit his new Eastern family. I'm making sure he stays on the straight and narrow. I don't want the Yakuza guys to scare him into disclosing or alerting them to our interest."

  "Sounds very official."

  "It always is. Night."

  Sawyer pushed out of the lobby doors, and I turned to press the elevator button. It was smudged with fresh blood. I glanced around and then used the inside of my blazer to clean it.

  The doors slid open, the chime pleasant and welcoming, but when I stepped inside, my heart sank. The button for the sixth floor was smeared with blood as well.

  Again, I used my blazer to hide the evidence, and then I waited impatiently for the doors to open. I stomped out and walked straight to Thomas's door, banging on the metal. When he didn't answer, I banged again.

  "Who is it?" Thomas asked from the other side.

  "Liis. Open the fuck up."

  A chain rattled, the bolt lock clicked, and then Thomas opened his door. I pushed through
, shouldering past him, and then twirled around, crossing my arms.

  Thomas had an ice pack on his right hand and a bloody bandage on his left.

  "Christ! What did you do?" I said, reaching for his bandage.

  I carefully peeled it away from his weeping raw knuckles and then looked up at him.

  "The racist bastards insulted you."

  "So, you tried to beat them to death?" I shrieked.

  "No, that came after I heard them casually mention that they hoped your route home included a dark alley."

  I sighed. "C'mon. I'll clean you up."

  "I got it."

  "Wrapping and icing doesn't constitute cleaning. You're going to get an infection in your joints. Does that sound like fun?"

  Thomas frowned.

  "Okay then."

  Thomas and I went into his bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub, holding up both of his hands in loose fists.

  "First-aid kit?"

  He nodded toward the sink. "Underneath."

  I pulled out a clear plastic container, unsnapped it, and opened it wide, poking through the various items. "Peroxide?"

  Thomas recoiled.

  "You can punch two full-grown men until the skin sheds off your knuckles, but you can't handle a few seconds of a fizzy burning sensation?"

  "In the medicine cabinet. The mirror pulls open."

  "I know. Mine, too," I deadpanned.

  "I tried to walk home without--"

  "Attacking them?"

  "Some people are belligerent, predatory assholes their entire lives until one person comes along and beats the shit out of them. It gives them a new perspective."

  "Is that what you're calling it? You think you did them a favor."

  He frowned. "I did the world a favor."

  I poured the hydrogen peroxide over his injuries, and he sucked air through his teeth as he jerked his hands back.

  I sighed. "I just can't believe you lost your shit like that over a stupid insult and an empty threat."

  Thomas leaned his face toward his shoulder and used it to wipe his cheek, smearing two small specks of blood.

  "You should probably bathe in this," I said, holding up the big brown bottle in my hands.

  "Why?"

  I grabbed tissue from the toilet paper roll and soaked it in the disinfectant. "Because I'm fairly certain that's not your blood."

  Thomas looked up, seeming bored.

  "I'm sorry. Would you like me to leave?" I asked.

  "Actually, I would."

  "No!" I snapped.

  "Oh! That insults you."

  I dabbed at his wounds with a clean cotton ball. "Strangers can't hurt my feelings, Thomas. People I care about can."

  His shoulders sagged. He suddenly looked too tired to argue.

  "What were you doing at Cutter's?" I asked.

  "I'm a regular there."

  I frowned. "You haven't been."

  "I needed a drink."

  "Bad Monday?" I asked, wondering if there was ever a good one.

  He hesitated. "I called Travis on Friday."

  "April Fools' Day?" I asked. Thomas gave me a few seconds. "Oh! His birthday."

  "He hung up on me."

  "Ouch."

  Right when I said the word, Thomas jerked his hand back.

  "Son of a--" He pressed his lips together, the veins in his neck swelling, as he strained.

  "Sorry." I flinched.

  "I miss you," Thomas said quietly. "I'm trying to keep it professional at work, but I can't stop thinking about you."

  "You've been kind of a bear. People are likening it to the days just post-Camille."

  He laughed once without humor. "There's no comparison. This is much, much worse."

  I concentrated on wrapping his wounds. "Let's just be glad that we didn't let this get too far."

  He nodded. "You should definitely be glad. I wasn't that smart."

  I let my hands fall to my lap. "What are you talking about? You told me two weeks ago that you couldn't love me."

  "Liis...do you have feelings for me?"

  "You know I do."

  "Do you love me?"

  I stared into his desperate eyes for a long time. The more seconds that passed, the more hopeless he looked.

  I let out a faltering breath. "I don't want to be in love, Thomas."

  He looked down at the bandages on his hands, already dotted red with his blood. "You didn't answer my question."

  "No."

  "You're lying. How can you have such a strong personality and be so fucking afraid?"

  "So what?" I snapped. "You would be scared, too, if I told you I was still in love with Jackson and you were way, way out of your emotional comfort zone."

  "That's not fair."

  I lifted my chin. "I don't have to be fair to you, Thomas. I just have to be fair to me." I stood and took a step backward toward the door.

  He shook his head and chuckled. "You, Liis Lindy, are most definitely my payback."

  THE STAIRS SEEMED PREFERABLE to taking the elevator one floor down. I trudged down to my floor and passed my door to walk the few steps to the window at the end of the hallway.

  The corner across the street was smeared with blood, but no one seemed to notice. The people who walked by had no idea about the violence that had occurred, not even an hour before, in the space they were passing through.

  A couple stopped just a few feet from the largest stain, arguing. The woman looked both ways and then crossed the street, and I recognized her just before she slipped beneath the awning of our lobby. Marks followed her, and I sighed, knowing they would both be stepping off the elevator minutes later.

  I went to my door and unlocked it, and then I waited in the open doorway. The elevator chimed, and the doors revealed my friend looking angrier than I'd ever seen her.

  She stepped out and then stopped abruptly, elbowing Marks when he ran into her. "Are you leaving?" she asked me.

  "No. Just getting home." I held the door open. "Come in."

  She passed by, and then Marks paused, waiting for my permission. I nodded, and he followed her to the couch.

  I shut the door and turned, crossing my arms. "I am not in the mood to Dr. Phil you two. I can't figure out my own shit." I raked my hair away from my face, and then I walked over to the chair, scooping up the folded throw and holding it in my lap as I sat down.

  "You agree with me, don't you, Liis?" Marks asked. "She needs to kick him out."

  "He won't leave," Val said, exasperated.

  "Then, I'll make him leave," Marks growled.

  I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, Marks. You know the law. He is her husband. If the cops came, you would be the one asked to leave."

  Marks's jaw worked beneath the skin, and then he looked beyond my kitchen. "You have a second bedroom. You've invited her."

  "She doesn't want to lose her condo," I said.

  Val's eyes widened. "That's what I've told him."

  "I don't want you living with him! It's fucking weird!" Marks said.

  "Joel, I'm handling this," Val said. "If you don't want to stick around, I understand."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you two here?"

  Marks sighed. "I came to pick her up for dinner. He made a big deal. Usually, I wait for her outside, but I thought I'd be a fucking gentleman for once. He made a scene. Who's she pissed at? Me."

  "Why do we do this to ourselves?" I asked, mostly to myself. "We're grown adults. Love makes us so stupid."

  "He doesn't love me," Val said.

  "Yes, I do," Marks said, looking at her.

  She slowly turned to him. "You do?"

  "I chased you for months, and I'm still chasing you. You think this is a casual fling for me? I love you."

  Val's face fell, and her lip jutted out. "I love you, too."

  They hugged each other and then began to kiss.

  I looked up at the ceiling, contemplating a tantrum.

  "Sorry," Val said, fixing her lipstick.

  "It's
fine," I deadpanned.

  "We should probably get going," Marks said. "We barely got a reservation. I don't want to have to drive around looking for a decent meal at nine thirty at night."

  I forced a smile and then walked to the door, opening it wide.

  "Sorry," Val whispered as she passed.

  I shook my head. "It's fine."

  I shut the door, walked straight back to my bedroom, and fell face-first onto my bed.

  Val and Marks had made finding a solution look so easy, figuring it out even though Val had been sharing a condo with Sawyer for over a year. I was miserable living an entire floor below Thomas. But our problems seemed more complicated than living with an ex. I loved a man who I couldn't love, who loved someone else but loved me more.

  Love could kiss my ass.

  The next morning, I was relieved not to see Thomas in the elevator.

  As the weeks passed, it became less of a worry and more of a memory.

  Thomas would make sure to arrive at work before me and to stay far later. The meetings were short and tense, and if we were given an assignment, Val, Sawyer, and I hated to come back to Constance empty-handed.

  The rest of Squad Five kept their heads down, scowling at me when they thought I wouldn't notice. The days were long. Just being in the squad room was stressful, and I had quickly become everyone's least favorite supervisor in the building.

  Eight straight days went by without any run-ins with Thomas at Cutter's, and then another week passed.

  Anthony had given me the number of a friend who knew someone who shipped vehicles, and once I'd called and mentioned Anthony's name, the price dropped in half.

  By May, my Camry had been delivered, and I was able to explore more of San Diego. Val and I went to the zoo, and I began systematically visiting all the beaches, always alone. It became sort of a thing.

  It didn't take me long to fall in love with the city, and I wondered if falling quick was going to start being a thing with me, too. That was squashed after several outings with Val as I began to understand that every interaction with a man just reminded me of how much I missed Thomas.

  One hot, sticky Saturday night, I pulled into the Kansas City Barbeque parking lot and shoved my keys into my purse. Even in a sundress, I could feel the sweat dripping from under my breasts and down to my stomach. It was a heat only the ocean or a pool could alleviate.

  My skin was slick, and my hair was pulled into a loose knot at the top of my head. The humidity reminded me of the island, and I needed to distract myself.

  I pushed the door open and froze. The first thing in my line of sight was Thomas standing in front of the dartboard with a blonde, holding her in one arm as he tried to help her aim a dart with the other.

  The moment we made eye contact, I turned on my heels and walked quickly to my car. Running was not conducive in wedges. Before I could even clear the front patio, someone rounded the corner, and I plowed into him, getting knocked off my footing.