“No,” I’d corrected him, “It’s delicious.”
He’d dodged and weaved my attempts to airplane feed him a bite and instead made himself a plate of “normal” French toast, which consisted of plain butter and syrup. So boring.
We ate in enjoyable silence and got ready side by side. I listened to him hum top forty songs off-key in the shower.
When it had been time to go, he’d given me a kiss and said he would be here when I got home.
“But you have to work,” I’d argued.
“I’ll work from home until you get back.”
I knew he probably hadn’t worked a single productive minute since I’d left for the hospital, which was why I felt incredibly guilty as I went in the opposite direction, toward the coast, rather than taking the freeway home.
The traffic congestion lessened and the houses grew larger as I drove closer to the cliffs. Each street I passed reminded me of the life I’d once had. The little organic market where I’d had once picked up a particular kind of juice every week…just because August loved it. The smell of the salty air reminded me of long walks on the beach when life had been simple and sweet—before everything had come crashing down.
I pulled up the driveway and parked. Hidden in the very back of my glove compartment, in a tiny manila envelope, there was a single key—one I’d hidden years ago when I’d walked away from this place and my life with August. It had been my responsibility to take care of our home, to nurture it and keep it flourishing in his absence.
Two months after he went into a coma, I handed everything over to his attorney with directions on maintenance and financial care, and walked away.
And yet, here I was. Again.
I should have tossed the stupid key over a cliff years ago.
Standing in front of the house, I felt small and insignificant before its high walls and grand exterior. The first day he’d brought me here, I had been blindfolded. There had been a giant red bow wrapped around the front, just like in a movie. At that moment, I’d been so sure he was my happy Hollywood ending.
* * *
“Are you serious?” I squealed as the blindfold fell to the ground and I got my first glimpse of the colossal house standing before me.
“Very,” he answered with a devilish grin.
“We can’t afford this, August. It’s too much! Shit,” I swore, “I don’t think Oprah could afford this.”
His arms wrapped around my waist and up I went, spinning in circles, laughing as he captured my lips with his own.
“We can afford anything we want now,” he whispered. “I promised I’d always take care of you—give you everything you desired.”
“All I ever wanted was you,” I answered softly.
A cocky grin tugged at the corner of his lip. “Now you have both.”
* * *
Slowly, I walked up the flowered pathway, grateful for the landscaping service that kept up the vast outdoor maintenance required of the property. It meant I never had to feel guilty that this magnificent house had fallen into disrepair because of me. Because of us.
It still looked as beautiful as the day I first saw it. The sprawling driveway gave way to a beautiful garden and entryway. The color of the flowers had changed since I’d last been here, but it all still felt the same. At first glance, you’d never know no one had lived in it for years. Yet as I grew closer and peered in the windows, I could see the white sheets scattered throughout the first floor, covering and protecting the expensive furniture we’d spent months picking out. The house resembled the Spanish architectural style California was known for, with rounded windows and doors that reminded me of field trips to old missions along the El Camino Real, and an ornate red-tiled roof that gave it character and charm. The multi-million dollar view of the Pacific didn’t hurt either. That view was what made this area of the city so sought after. The waves crashed below as the sun set over the crystal blue water. Each and every day. It had been a life most people only dreamed of living, and one I’d run away from long ago.
My hand shook as I held the key up to the lock in the large wooden door, and as its first tooth locked into place, I stopped and took a hesitant step back. The key fell from my fingers, clattering onto the stoop, and I fled, my heart pounding in spades. Quickly unlatching the gate to the backyard, I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and my cheeks reddened from the gusts of wind rushing over the jagged cliffs. The house faded into the background as I stood there and let the roar of the ocean drown out my thoughts and memories, pushing back the sobs that were threatening to force their way out.
I would not cry over this man.