There Is No Light in Darkness (6 page)

When the doors open, I bolt through the lobby and out the doors. I’ve never been more thankful to be wearing flats.

I make it to Lewis’s building in record time. I look at my gold watch and see that it’s 11:45. Perfect. I make my way inside the busy lobby where everyone is bustling out of the building, ready for lunch. I skip over to the bathroom on the left side of the lobby and switch my flats for my heels. Once my flats are tucked away in my purse, I eye myself in the mirror. I fix the flyaways in my hair and clean up some smudged eye liner from under my eye before walking out. As I walk toward the elevators, I hear a man to my right shout “Mark” loudly. I turn my head in that direction and catch a blond man looking at me. When our eyes meet, I stumble back a step from the impact.

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, but it’s really only half a second. Mark’s blue eyes are looking at me in wide panic, and I can feel my heart pounding wildly against my chest. He turns around to greet an older man as I feel an unhealthy supply of blood rushing to my head and hear a loud ringing in my ear. I haven’t been able to peel my eyes off of him, so I catch him when he looks back at me. The surprise in his eyes has been replaced by sadness, and for some stupid reason, it tugs at my heart.

I let out a weak breath and wish I wasn’t so stubborn. I wish I could turn back the last twenty minutes, go back to the elevator with Martin, and let him have his stupid conversation with me. I wish I didn’t have this strong urge to uncover my past because with this urge comes devastation and sorrow that I’m not sure I’m strong enough to relive. Even though I have the memories from my nightmares, I’m not sure I want to experience them in the light. They’re more real in the light. I should have kept them buried in the darkness, but it’s too late for that. Mark’s sky-blue eyes bring back a flood of nightmares that I wish were just that.

I catch my breath and quickly step into the waiting elevator. I furiously press down the Close Door button and shift from one foot to the other as I silently pray that Mark is leaving the building. When I step out of the elevator on the twentieth floor, I am greeted by a carbon-copy Barbie named Tanner. I had a slight altercation with her kid sister, Skipper, the last time I was here. I take a deep breath and inform Barbie that I’m here to see Veronica Stein. She plasters her fake smile, showing me her expensive veneers, and asks me to take a seat. I know I should sit, but I feel like a gassed-up bottle of pop that’s just been shaken. Instead, I pace the waiting area while nervously smoothing out my long wavy hair.

“Blake,” Veronica says, smiling when she spots me. “Come to my office, please.”

Veronica is in her late forties and has short brown hair that tucks into her chin. She has skin so fair that it’s almost translucent and sharp brown eyes. She’s always impeccably dressed in what I can only assume are custom-tailored skirt suits.

Once we step into her spacious office, I take a seat in one of the leather chairs across from her desk. Veronica starts to shuffle papers on her desk until she finds a large manila envelope that has my name on it. She puts on her designer reading glasses and unclasps the envelope. She takes out some papers and skims through them with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, happy belated birthday. I have some papers from your aunt’s will that we need to go over. It seems that Shelley wanted to give you half of her things on your eighteenth birthday and the rest on your twenty-fifth. A lot of people are doing that now,” Veronica explains.

I sigh. “Veronica, I don’t mean to be rude, but can we just go over the papers? I just want to get this over with.”

She laughs. “Oh, Blake, I wish you’d come intern for us. You’re my kind of girl.” Her brown eyes search my face before continuing. “Your aunt left you a key to a safety deposit box as well as two more properties. These are plots of land. She also left you more money; I assume to cover the taxes for the land for a while. You just have to sign off on everything, and you can be on your way.”

I’m totally dumbfounded. Shelley and I lived such a frugal life. I would have never known she had so much money.

“Are you okay?” Veronica asks, seeing my blank stare.

“Yes, I just ... I would have never known that Shelley had so much money,” I reply honestly.

“Yeah, well, some people don’t like to flaunt what they have. I personally think if you’ve got it, use it while you’re alive. It’s no good to you once you’re dead—especially if you don’t have kids to hand it down to. Thankfully, your aunt had you to leave it for.”

I smile weakly and start signing the deed to the land. She hands me the safety deposit key in an envelope, and I thank her as I leave. As I wait for the elevator, I open the envelope in my hands. There’s a letter from Aunt Shelley along with a key.

Blake,

This is going to be a lot to take in, so you may want to sit down to read this.

When the elevators open, I snap the letter shut and look up. My heart drops when I find the sky-blue eyes that terrorize my nights watching me intently. I take a moment to assess his face again, slowly this time. He looks about forty years old, give or take. His blond hair is slicked back; he has light blond hair that sprinkles his jaw. His nose is long and straight and his eyes—those sky-blue eyes... I’ve dreamed of finding him and asking him questions for so long, but now that I have him in front of me, I don’t think I can bear to know the answers.

“Mr. Lewis,” I say as I extend a shaky hand to greet him. “I’m Blake Brennan. I’m a friend of Aimee’s.”

I watch as his eyes widen before he finally sticks his hand in mine. I feel as if he’s reaching into my heart and turning the knife that’s been there for the past twenty-one years.

“It’s about time we formally meet, Blake,” he replies as he examines every inch of my face. “Would you like to step into my office? I have a couple of minutes to kill.”

My eyes widen at his choice of words, but I nod in agreement.

I pull out my phone as we reach his office door and send Cole a text message that says I’m thinking about him. If I die, I want him to know that. I wish I could have sent him one that said I love you, but I’m not that positive that I’m going to die.

Mark’s office is massive. He has a huge cherry wood desk in the middle of the room, a bookshelf to the left, a bar to the right with barstools, and an amazing view of the river and city behind him. The decor screams grandeur.

“Have a seat, Blake,” he says as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on a barstool. He misses it by a long shot, so it lands on the floor. I suppress the urge to pick it up and place it on a seat in front of his desk. He goes over to the bar and asks me if I want a drink. I shake my head no and watch as he pours himself some single malt scotch. Maybe I should have said yes.

“How are you?” he asks, searching my face.

I’m not sure my vocal cords will cooperate and reply.

I open my mouth a couple of times and finally clear my throat. “I’m ... fine. How are you?” I ask in a confused tone.

“Good. How’s law school?” he asks, watching me intently.

This would be a good time to use my poker face. I take a deep breath and pray that I have a poker face to play with.

“How’d you know I was in law school?” I ask evenly.

“You said you’re a friend of Aimee’s. I assume you know her from school. That girl doesn’t have a social life outside of school. I’m assuming you have some questions for me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I take a deep breath as he takes a sip of his drink and can no longer wait to ask him the one question that’s been tormenting me for the past thirteen years. “Did you kill my father?” I ask quietly.

He chokes on his drink and coughs a couple of times. “Wha ... What? I meant questions about your estates. What are you talking about?” he sputters.

“Sorry,” I say as my phone starts ringing. I look down and see Cole’s name on my screen before I send it to voicemail. “That was an awkward thing to ask, but I know who you are.”

He clears his throat. “No, Blake. You don’t know who I am. If you did, you would not ask me a question like that. My job is to put criminals behind bars. Why would I kill someone?”

I feel the walls of my throat starting to close in, and I urge any stupid tears to stay away. “Can you tell me what happened to him?” I whisper brokenly.

The question makes his face crumble. He recovers his composure quickly, and I know that if I wasn’t looking for a thousand truths in his eyes, I would have missed it.

“I don’t know what you mean, Blake. Who is your father?” he asked, surely in the voice he uses on his clients.

“Mr. Lewis, I know you’re the man that took me from my house when I was little. I don’t know why you did it, but I’m sick of not knowing who I am. Did you kill him or not?” I ask boldly.

“I already told you that I don’t kill people,” he spits angrily before getting up to pace his office. “I don’t have any information for you, Blake. I suggest you save your energy and stop poking your nose around in places. You may find something that you don’t like. Trust me, I learned the hard way.”

I tilt my head to scrutinize him. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the best attorneys in Chicago.”

“Yes, I am. That doesn’t mean I’m not paying for my past. Please—just let it go. You’ve done well for yourself.”

“You say that as if it’s easy,” I mutter under my breath before I realize what he just told me. “How do you know what kind of life I’ve lived? Have you been watching me?” I ask horrified.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, yes,” he sighs. “It’s for your own good. Can I trust you to keep this to yourself, Blake? I have a meeting in five minutes and one hell of a week in front of me. I can’t have this weighing on my mind right now.”

I laugh sarcastically. “I would hate to be a burden on your conscience, Mark. Your secret is safe with me. I still have questions, though.”

“Blake, do you know the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat?’” he asks and waits for me to nod. “In this case, curiosity kills everybody except the cat. Trust me, it hurts more that way. For the sake of the people you love, let it go.”

“Well, Mark, lucky for me, I don’t love anybody,” I huff.

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Sure about that, Blake?”

His response makes my breath falter. I do love somebody, I love five somebodies, and I’m scared as hell to lose them. I turn and open the door to let myself out. I have to get out of here before I choke this man. He freaking knows what happened, and he thinks it’s a joke. I feel tears of anger pooling my eyes, but I won’t let him see them. I close the door quietly behind me, and I don’t stop walking until I’m back in the parking garage of my building. I turn on my car, and as I pull out of the parking garage to go home, Coldplay’s “Fix You” comes on the radio.

When you lose something you can’t replace.

When you love someone, but it goes to waste.

Could it be worse?

Cue the goddamn tears. Damn Chris Martin and his ability to make me cry every time he opens his damn mouth.

When I get to my apartment, I call out for Aubry, but he’s not home. I go straight to my room and take out my cell phone. Ten missed calls. Three from Russell, five from Cole, one from Becky, and one from Aubry. I sort through my text messages and see one from Aimee and one from Cole. Aimee’s is to ask me how it went with Mark. I reply quickly saying it went well. Cole’s message simply says:
I’m always thinking about you.
I get butterflies and smile at my screen before calling Russell.

“Hey, babe,” he says with his sexy accent.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call back earlier.”

“No, that’s fine. How did your meeting go?”

“It went well. I think I’m coming down with something, though. I don’t feel well at all,” I groan.

“Oh? Do you want me to come over and bring you some soup?” he asks concerned.

“No, thank you. I think I’m just going to sleep it off. I’ll call you in the morning.”

I text message Aubry and Becky. I let Aubry know I’m home and going to take a nap. I tell Becky I’ll call her back tomorrow because I’m not feeling well. This should buy me enough time to read the letter from Shelley. I call Cole back because he won’t accept a simple text message, and I really need to hear his voice right now.

“Hello?” he answers on the second ring. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Hey, were you working out?” I ask.

“Uh ... no, what’s up?” he replies clearing his throat. I hear a woman say something to him in the background that I can’t make out. “Hold on a sec,” he says to me and puts the phone down. I hear his muffled voice, talking to who I assume must be Erin. He sounds like he’s trying to calm her down. Then I hear her scream, “You picked up the phone in the middle of fucking me! Who the fuck are you talking to?” That’s when I hang up and run to the bathroom to throw up my breakfast, since that’s all I’ve eaten all day. I was already feeling a little queasy from the mixture of not eating, Shelley’s letter, and my encounter with Mark, but Cole answering the phone in the middle of ... Oh my god, I feel sick again. I sit on the cold tile next to the toilet, clutching my stomach for a few minutes.

I try to reason that he wasn’t thinking when he answered the phone. It’s normal for us to drop everything and tend to one another. He didn’t mean to let me know what he was doing. I’m thinking all of this, but none of it makes me feel any better about the situation. The visual is already there, silently plaguing me. Now all I can think about is his hands holding her face as he kisses her softly. His lips on her skin. His body rocking against hers as he whispers how beautiful she is. I shut my eyes tightly and cover my ears with my hands. I can’t deal with the thought. I can’t. I can’t think about him with somebody else anymore. I know I have no right to feel this way, but I can’t help it. The thought of him with another woman has been bothering the hell out of me lately.