Finding Home Read online

  He slowly shakes his head.

  “I needed more than that. Had I come back, it would’ve felt good for a moment, and then it would’ve been a hell to go back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you both until I left. Nothing felt the same. Not the school, and not the classmates. And now, I hate London.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with London,” I say, grinning, and brushing his cheek with my fingers. “Is that what this is? You feeling lonely?”

  He shrugs.

  “I don’t know. Maybe...” he murmurs and smiles, trying to lighten up the mood, yet he sounds broken.

  I curl my arm around his neck, give him a hug and pat him on his back.

  “Let’s go to the hotel,” I say, and he pushes off the wall.

  2

  JAGGER, Amsterdam

  “There’s a car here, somewhere,” he says, pulling a key out of his pocket as he looks up the street. “There it is,” he says pointing at a Lamborghini.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve rented this bad boy only for the weekend?”

  “Why the fuck not?” he says, grinning.

  “If this is not showing off, I don’t know what is. Is this to impress that guy, Peter?” I ask, sinking into the seat.

  The doors close with a thick, smooth sound.

  He gives me a side glance and a cheeky smile.

  “Try again.”

  I look at him, incredulous.

  “For me?! Are you fucking crazy?”

  He turns the key in the ignition and rakes his fingers through his hair, a sly grin stretching across his lips.

  “You didn’t need to do this for me. It would’ve been nice of you to pick me up instead of making me chase you in clubs, and then introducing me to your new friend...”

  “Shut up, Jagger! You’re killing me, man,” he says, and we burst into laughter.

  The car pulls away, swiftly zooming down the street, passing a couple of brothels.

  “So what have you been doing for the last two months?” I ask, my head swiveling, my gaze drawn to a group of women.

  “You want to know if I fucked someone?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I murmur, still looking out the window.

  “Would it matter to you?”

  I shift my eyes to him.

  “Would I ask, if it didn’t?”

  “No, I didn’t. I told you already.”

  I glance at him.

  “But you tried...” I say, keeping my eyes on him, trying to decipher his expression.

  “I didn’t try, but people hit on me.”

  I open my mouth, beginning to utter something. His hand shoots in the air, his eyes coming to mine.

  “If you mention him one more time, I’m kicking you out of the car.”

  I squash my smile.

  “What’s his story?” I ask.

  “He’s attracted to me.”

  “What about you? You looked as if you were infatuated with him.”

  “I was not...” he says, smirking.

  “That’s not what I saw in that club. I know you, Braxton.”

  He sways his head side to side.

  “I wasn’t doing anything, really. He likes to flatter the men he is attracted to, but he knows I’m not available, and he most likely figured out you are the reason. Why do you think he checked you out?”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “London. I ran into him at a party, and then we kinda hung out with the same crowd, and we saw each other every time the people we knew gathered together. I never had company, and the women who came my way, never stuck, so eventually he asked me if I was single or not, and I said I’m not. Then, one night he asked me if I like men, and I said I don’t dislike them, so he kinda figured out there’s someone else, possibly a man. That’s why he was so curious about you.”

  “You travel together?”

  “No, we don’t. He came here to meet a client. Someone who’s interested in buying one of the paintings I have for sale. That’s fucking all.”

  “You said people hit on you. Women? Men?”

  “Both,” he says and pulls into the underground parking.

  He brings the car to a stop and turns the engine off. He doesn’t move, and I look at him.

  “I had plenty of opportunities if that’s what you’re asking, and there were times when I was tempted. As much as we thought the three of us were together, in time I understood that we were not. It’s you and Violet, and then it’s me. Even if you travel, and you’re not home, she’s there for you. Waiting for you. I’m nothing but a fucking student who lives in London. I have a bunch of people around me that I loosely call friends. I can’t come home to her. I can’t even claim you anytime I want. You have your life and work. Even if we live on the same fucking continent, we’re barely in the same town at the same time, and it’s not easy to get together.”

  He pauses, and takes a long breath.

  “But even so, every time I had the opportunity to get someone in my bed, I couldn’t do it,” he says and lets out a sad chuckle. “It felt as if I was trying to tarnish everything we had together, our memories, the time we’ve spent together. But holding onto the past, made me miserable, and that’s why I became the way I am right now. That’s what this is,” he says and looks at me, his eyes dull with sadness.

  “Come,” I say, and motion to him to follow me as I climb out of his car.

  JAGGER, Amsterdam

  “I’m sorry I acted like a jerk,” he says, his eyes rooting on his drink.

  He leans back in his armchair, props his ankle on his knee, flexes his arms, and runs his hands through his hair.

  “So why exactly didn’t you pick me up?”

  “I didn’t want to look desperate,” he says, smiling, looking up at me as I walk around his chair.

  I grab my own glass and plop on the couch.

  “It’s fucking me, Braxton. What the hell is wrong it you?”

  “You have your own life, now,” he says, and glances at me.

  I take a swig, and set my glass on the table, then stretch my arms on top of the sofa. His gaze floats over my shirtless body.

  He picks up his glass and tilts it back, his face flushed as the alcohol coats his mouth.

  “Do you still write?” I ask.

  He smiles.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Same kind of stuff?”

  His grin broadens.

  “Uh-huh. It’s the only way to keep me sane,” he says, serious, and tension sets in my chest.

  “Am I ever gonna read it?”

  He leans forward, and places the glass on the table, his lips curving into a slow smile.

  “Perhaps. One day, maybe... What about you? I’ve read the headlines,” he says and locks my eyes.

  “It’s good. I can’t complain. The only problem is, I’m barely home.”

  “How’s Violet?”

  “She’s working on her business. Right now, she’s in New York, spending Thanksgiving with her family.”

  “How are things with her folks?”

  I shrug.

  “They’re good. I think. Probably because they have no idea what’s going on.”

  “And things with you and her?”

  “Good.” I glance at him, and he moves his gaze away from me. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “No reason.”

  “She misses you as well.”

  He chuckles softly.

  “She’s never told me that.”

  “She does,” I say, smiling.

  He glances at me, incredulous.

  “I mean it, man.”

  He stays quiet.

  “You know... One of the reasons I didn’t want to go to school was because it always felt like some sort of entrapment to me. There’s nothing wrong with the concept, and it can be great if you meet the right kind of people or even fall in love with someone, but to me, it was always this thing that would mess with my life, a derailment of sorts. People split paths when they go to college. Th
ey move on, grow apart, and often times never get back to who they were. It’s natural in a way, but once they’re out there, they run with a different crowd. Different than the people that they used to know. Things that mattered once, like real friendship, no longer hold value. That’s how many of them get miserable. When my mom used to nag me to go to college, I always had this unexplained fear that if I went I’d morph into one of those unhappy people who used to come to her parties,” I say with a lighter voice, trying to make it sound like a joke. “And now you are one of those people,” I add, serious, after a small pause.

  A few moments of silence slip by.

  “I don’t know what else to do. I like War Studies.”

  I grin.

  “I’ve never doubted it. Why don’t you switch to an online program?”

  His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me.

  “I could,” he says quietly. “And live where?”

  “You can come back home.”

  His expression changes, a ray of hope shining through his eyes, quickly shot down by the sadness.

  “I can’t live with you. And Violet has to be on board... It could mess things up.”

  “The way it looks right now, it’s too late to worry about that.”

  He charms me with a smile.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I chuckle and briefly look down before I pick up my glass and empty it in one big gulp.

  I toss it back on the table.

  “The reality is, I couldn’t wait to see you. I never thought so much time would pass by without seeing each other because of the schedule conflicts and what not. And then tonight, I couldn’t wait for my gig to come to an end, and I can’t even tell you how disappointed I was when I finally got there, and I realized how fucked up you are.”

  He laughs softly.

  “Thanks, man. You make me feel all warm inside.”

  “It’s the fucking truth.”

  “It’s not something I had planned.”

  “I know that, but you could’ve talked to me. All that time we spent on the phone, not once did you tell me how bad you felt.”

  He leans forward, props his elbows on his knees, and sets his eyes on the table, his glass dangling from his hand.

  “Remember when I told you I’d walk away if you asked me to or if she did, and then I said I couldn’t do it?”

  I nod.

  “That was the truth. I fought tooth and nail to stay, be part of your life and hers, but once I pulled away, I realized it was not my call. I fooled myself thinking it was in my power, but real life is different than how I imagined it. At that time, I didn’t have enough perspective and I couldn’t see things for what they were, and once I did, I tried to do the right thing...”

  “Stop saying that, Brax. I don’t need you to do what you think is the right thing. I need the fucking truth.”

  “Well, the truth is... Everything felt right and made sense as long as the three of us were in the same place at the same time, but the moment I hit the real world, it felt like a fucking dream. And then the desperation set in. I tried to calibrate my emotions, keep them under control, and the more I did it, the worse it felt. I don’t know if everything we’ve talked about had a real chance of actually happening in reality. And I’m not talking about other people interfering. We’re past that, but we’ve never taken into consideration that our own lives might get in the way. We all pursue something, and sometimes three people don’t need to go to college to split ways. Although I did. Distance is a fucking killer, and you know what the weirdest thing was? It was easier for me last year when the only thing I had was my hope that one day I’d get close to you, but it was so much harder this time around, having all those memories. They filled me to the brim and gave me so much pleasure and then they made me feel like shit because I craved that life, every minute of every fucking day until at one point it crossed my mind that hooking up with someone else would be a wise thing to do. Let things set their course for you and Violet. It turned out what I’d fought so hard was unavoidable in the end. Words are words. Real life is a different story.”

  I watch him in silence.

  His voice is heavy with emotion. His eyes flash sadness. Maybe he’s right. It is different for him. I’d feel the same way if I were him. I’d feel adrift.

  “When do you go back?” I ask.

  “When you’re done here.”

  “What about Thanksgiving?”

  He shrugs.

  “I don’t know. Diana flies back home. My mom insists that I should go too, but that’s the last thing I want to do right now.”

  “What about you come with me to Rome next week. It’s my last gig before Thanksgiving, and then we can head to Ibiza and spend some time together.”

  His eyes light up.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, man... I’m damn sure.”

  I pull out of the couch, and he straightens as I walk by him. My hand goes in his hair.

  “Come on... Let’s take a shower and get some sleep.”

  3

  VIOLET, New York

  “Miss Brown.”

  I give the hostess a short nod before she leads me to the reserved table next to the window.

  “Would you like to order?” she asks politely.

  “I’m waiting for someone else.”

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “A Martini Rosso, please.”

  Smiling, she pulls away.

  I set my phone on the table and glance outside.

  The harsh November wind sweeps the sidewalks, twirling clouds of brittle leaves. Cabs and limousines zoom down the street. The streetlights just come on.

  People greet each other at the entrance before they enter the hotel. Some walk into the restaurant, others heading to the event rooms.

  “Violet?!”

  I flick my eyes up.

  “Liv?!”

  I push up to my feet and give her a brief embrace, flooded by surprise.

  “Oh my God! You look so different. What happened to you?” I ask, stretching a full mouth grin.

  A well-tailored cranberry dress sets off her lean silhouette, making the new color of her tresses pop out. She’s dyed her hair a few shades lighter, and now she’s almost blonde like me. Her ringlets are gone. Expertly applied makeup brings out her soft blue eyes and small pout.

  “What happened to the flower power girl? She got on your nerves or something?” I ask jokingly.

  A grin lights up her face, yet she stays quiet. My fingers slide over hers.

  “You’re in love...” I murmur, and my gaze drops as my fingers brush the smooth edge of a diamond ring.

  My mouth falls open, and her smile stretches across her lips.

  “Engaged?!” I say, clamping my hand over my mouth.

  She nods softly, and I lean toward her and hug her.

  “Congratulations! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “He, um... He proposed recently,” she says, finally finding her voice.

  “Hence the makeover,” I say, flicking my finger up and down.

  “I wanted to change something in my appearance,” she says quietly.

  “Change something? You’ve changed everything.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I love it. You don’t look like the girl I used to know, but it suits you.”

  The waitress stops by our table and takes the food order.

  I steal a glance at Liv as she speaks with the woman. It’s not only her clothing. She behaves differently too. Her gestures come off more polished, and her words roll out soft-spoken. All in all, a more mature woman sits across from me.

  “Are you staying in this hotel?” she asks, not in a hurry to dish on her engagement and the new man.

  “Yes.”

  “You could’ve stayed at my place.”

  “No, no... I get a lot of grief for staying here. Can you imagine telling my parents I’d rather stay at your place than their hom
e?”

  “So, how are things with you?” she asks.

  “Good.”

  She takes in my champagne-colored dress and ruby encrusted earrings.

  “Spain’s sun has fallen in love with you,” she says, gently running her fingers over my tanned skin.

  “Yeah... You could say that.”

  “How’s Jagger?”

  “He’s good. Working. He’s making money and doing what he loves. It’s not bad at all,” I say, nervousness spilling in my voice.

  She registers the inflection in my tone, and her smile withers away.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted for him?”

  “Yes. No, no... It’s good. I’m happy for him,” I say.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m good as well. I focus on my business. The website is new, but the feedback I’ve gotten so far is encouraging,” I say, and turn, quiet, my gaze swinging to the window.

  A few cars pull in front of the hotel, men and women gathering in front of the entrance. They smile and exchange cheerful greetings, their laughter filling the air.

  The women wear heels, evening gowns peeking from beneath their coats. Hard to believe only a couple of days ago I was sunbathing in Ibiza, and I was happy and content, and now for some reason, I feel strange.

  Gently, I rub my temple, trying to push the thought away.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  I bring my eyes back to Liv and smile.

  “Yes. Everything is fine.”

  A crew of servers sets the food on the table, and we start to eat, for a few good moments shifting our focus to our plates.

  “So, how is he?” she asks.

  I raise my eyes, a questioning look sliding on my face.

  “Jagger.”

  “He’s great... The only problem is he travels a lot.”

  “You could travel with him.”

  “Yes, I could, but it wouldn’t make much sense. He makes two or three trips a week, works in the evenings and then crashes in the hotel room at night. He’s surrounded by all those people. I wouldn’t enjoy following him around. Besides, I have my own stuff to work on, and I like where I live. The temperature is mild. The sea is nearby. I’m not crazy about flying up north where it’s cold and windy, especially this time of year.”