Promise Me Always – Chapter 1
The knock at the door startled Bree enough to make her stop crying for a moment.
That was good, she thought, because not much did. It seemed once she started she couldn’t turn it off. Her doctor had even given her a Valium prescription to help. It didn’t.
Now, she stilled, tense as she waited for the sound to come again. Did she want someone to be at her door? She couldn’t decide. It was certainly easier to be alone.
Heading to the front door to check the peephole, she told herself it was probably Zoe or Jessica coming to check on her, not more bad news. But it was late at night, the time when bad things came to the door. That last knock had nearly killed her. So, illogical or not, the sound made her heart thump and her pulse race. She would not survive another hit.
The soft jingle of a key stopped her even as she was forcing herself to reach for the knob. Even though the sound identified the bearer of the keys as someone other than Kevin, a smile formed on her lips.
But who? Jessica or Cara would have knocked. They still would have barged in to be sure that she hadn’t OD’d on the valium. She’d managed to stay off it until last night when sleep had been too hard to come by.
“I’m fine.” She called out and swung the door open to the surprise of the tall man. He stood in the glow of the porch light, his brown hair just long enough to be shaggy, his soft brown eyes travel weary. He dwarfed the suitcase that sat beside him. His broad shoulders looked stable and his smile transferred some energy into her soul again.
Bree reached out to him, lacing her arms into his open trench coat and hugged him tightly. She sighed out his name. “Marco.”
“This was the worst trip ever.” He hugged her back then stooped to pick up the bag and move it the three feet from outside to inside. “I’m sorry I’m so late. Would you believe they ran the luggage cart into the fuselage of the plane? We had to sit there for two hours while they decided what to do.” His ire was apparent even through the Italian accent, but he breathed deep and relaxed. “Do you have any soda?”
Nodding, she plodded into the kitchen. A brief panic clenched her as she surveyed her clothing. She had already forgotten that she had showered yesterday and changed into pants and a top, complete with a bra at Cara’s urging.
Marco’s return from North Carolina had completely slipped her mind. He always stayed with them at least a few days before hitting the road again. Then again, everything had slipped her mind. She was planning her husband’s funeral for God’s sakes, but … somehow she’d forgotten to tell Marco.
Her heart clenched, a feeling that was all too familiar these days. Shame flooded her. She should have at least been alert enough to call Marco and let him know. But how would she have uttered the words to tell him that her husband—his best friend—was gone?
She was about to find out.
She returned to the living room with a glass of soda fizzing in her outstretched hand. Perching on the sofa next to him, she saw he was scrutinizing her with an odd look on his face. “Where’s Kevin? Still at work?”
She shook her head, no longer able to avoid reality. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. The chill that had left briefly settled back into her soul.
“Where is he?”
It was barely a whisper. “Dead.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“MVA—car accident.” Her voice seemed to work, though she hated the words.
“What?”
“On the way to work. A week ago.” She fought for control over the tears, and barely held her edge.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Taking a slow deep breath, she steadied herself and began with the facts. She could do this. “He left Friday morning. A semi jackknifed. He hit that, then someone hit him.” Marco turned a paler shade with each word, but Bree pushed through. She told herself she could finally say the words. “The car that hit him exploded, and he died.” Her EMT training took over. It was just another car accident. Kevin was dead long before anyone could have helped.
Marco sat stock still, one jeans clad leg crossed on the other. The soda dangled from his fingertips as if it might fall at any moment. The slight motion of the buttons on his shirt was the only sign of life behind his glazed stare. Bree waited, understanding.
Finally, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Bree shrugged. “Me either.”
How had she forgotten to tell Marco? Then again, she’d barely been able to speak. Even going over to Jessica’s had mostly involved putting on a brave front and pretending she was okay.
She wasn’t.
Gingerly, Marco set down the glass as though it might explode on contact. Then, turning, he enveloped her in a great hug as his voice cracked. “Bree, what are we going to do?”
She shook her head from side to side against the fabric of his shirt, but no words came.
“You could have called me.” The stress in him was evident by the strength of his accent.
“I couldn’t call anyone.”
“Have you been here this whole time by yourself?” He leaned back into the folds of the couch, Bree nestling in the crook of his arm.
She shook her head. “A friend of mine was here up until yesterday. I made her leave. She took care of everything. Called all the parents.”
“But not me.” She felt the blame of that. Marco and Kevin had practically been brothers.
“Marco.” It was hard to stifle the shrug that arose. Here, her husband had died suddenly and she was the one soothing hurt feelings. Cara had handled all the calls, going through Bree’s phone and asking if she should notify each person. Mom and Dad had made sense for her to call. Probably the name in the phone that just said Marco didn’t seem as important as it was. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“I’m sorry.” He hugged her close again. “I don’t know how you’re still in one piece.”
“I don’t know any other options.” But Marco was closer to the truth than Bree was willing to admit. The shell she inhabited didn’t have a beating heart. Nothing was right about her. Nothing except the fact that Marco was here.
