Forever Your Concierge Page 16

  "Where are you going?" I screamed at his retreating form.

  "This Travis is walking away from that Maya. When you find the real you, I'll be here waiting."

  "If you walk away, that's it," I threatened.

  "It's the chance I've got to take. I just don't know what else to do."

  I stood dumbfounded for a moment before stomping to the coat closet. I quickly put my coat on and grabbed the car keys from Travis' coat pocket. On my way to the front door I remembered that I was too drunk to drive.

  What the hell was I going to do now?

  "Excuse me, miss." The quiet voice had me looking up from my phone where I was looking up a number for a cab company.

  "Maria, right?" I asked the girl standing in the doorway.

  "Yes. Would you like a ride?" Even in my intoxicated state, I was embarrassed by the insinuation that she overheard the argument.

  "I would. Thank you."

  It wasn't until we were accelerating quickly down the driveway on the way to the train station that I saw the front door open. I'm not sure who was standing there watching us leave, and I didn't care.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was early afternoon when I stumbled out of bed. There was no sign of Travis, not even a sign that he had even been home the night before. My stomach churned at the prospect of my husband sleeping somewhere else. It only added to the fact that my head pounded and my mouth was dry.

  This had to be my rock bottom. What else could explain the shame and humiliation shrouding me like a black cloud?

  Inside the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth. Rummaging in the medicine cabinet I found a bottle of Tylenol and downed a few pills.

  Bracing my hands on the sink, my head dropped and I took in a shaky breath trying to collect my thoughts. Last night was a doozy. Travis and I have argued before, but we never really fought like that, especially in front of other people. I wasn't sure what to do about it. Hell, I wasn't even sure what to do with me. Looking up into the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I felt like a completely different person to the one I had been just a few short months ago. With smeared makeup, snarled hair and wrinkled clothes, I was a hot mess.

  In the kitchen, I made a pot of coffee and went in search of my purse. I couldn't remember where I had left it the night before. I had started to sober up in the time it took me to get home from Scarsdale, so as soon as I walked through the door, I made haste to my hidden stash of alcohol. I had found that if I concealed the extent of my depression, then Travis wasn't as miserable to be around, which was why the majority of the liquor I consumed was carefully hidden. Deep down I knew it was wrong, but that didn't lessen the compulsion to have the safety net I was beginning to rely on.

  I found my purse in the front closet on the floor with my coat haphazardly thrown over it. At least I was responsible enough to get it in the right place, I thought dryly.

  Digging my phone from the monstrosity of a bag—a necessity when you're a concierge—I was disappointed to see there were no messages from Travis. Not even a text message. My already heavy heart sank even further. I had made a real mess of things.

  Deciding to put my pride aside for the moment, I sent him a text.

  Hi

  It took a few minutes for his response to come through. I sat patiently on the floor waiting—needing a connection with him to alleviate some of my guilt. I was relieved when he finally answered and I latched onto that small bit of contact like it was a lifeline.

  Hi

  Where'd you stay last night?

  Guest room

  You coming home soon? I miss you.

  His reply wasn't immediate, so after several minutes of sitting on the hard floor, I stood and went back into the kitchen to retrieve my coffee. Sitting down in front of the television, I thumbed through the channels until I came upon a reality television show. Figuring the mindless task of watching someone else's life hopefully be worse than mine couldn't hurt, I covered myself in a blanket and relaxed back into the couch.

  Not long into the show, I dozed off. When I woke up, I finally had a text from Travis saying he wouldn't be home until late. My heart lurched with fear that there was no way I could make things right between us. I had royally screwed up when I lost it on Christmas, of all days. Even I knew that. Of course in the light of the day with a sober head, it was easy to admit that. Last night I would have been hard pressed to agree with the statement.

  When the show on television came back from commercial, I focused my attention on the screen rather than wallowing in my own self-pity and regret. Programming had moved on to a different reality show—one about teen moms. Almost immediately I began to feel anxious as I watched their lives. The familiar feelings of envy and resentment reared their ugly head, and I felt myself spiraling into an irrational and bitter headspace. Pressure weighed down on my chest and I couldn't help but become angry with these young girls who had the world in their hands, yet they screwed it up every chance they got. I had never been a covetous person, but the green-eyed monster had taken hold of me and wouldn't let go.

  It wasn't until one of the girls constantly in and out of both jail and rehab announced she was pregnant by a boy she had only just met that I lost hold of my emotions though. Throwing the remote, it smashed into the television and the screen distorted from the impact. Tears streamed down my face and I swiped at them angrily. I was sick of being mad. Sick of feeling sad. Sick of being weak. Sick of everything.

  With a bottle of tequila in hand, I began to drink myself into a stupor, all the while welcoming the darkness that had been threatening to consume me for so long. I welcomed it with open arms and basked in the numbness it provided me.

  * * *

  Travis

  The apartment was dark when I crossed the threshold. I hadn't wanted to go home, for as much as I told myself I did. Home had stopped being a safe and warm place for me sometime in the last few weeks.

  When the clock had finally hit seven, and I was still sitting at my desk not really getting any work done, I knew I needed to man up and face whatever waited for me. These days I never knew what I was going to be walking in on. Would Maya be my loving, chipper wife? Or would she be drunk and nasty?

  At first I thought it was only natural the way she lashed out after the miscarriage. I had done some research and knew what to expect with the change in her hormones and the loss of something so precious. Nothing could have prepared me for the evil, self-destructive monster she became. Most days it was as if I didn't know my wife at all and the harsh realization brought me to my knees.

  If only she would open up to me, I knew I could make it better. We needed to lean on each other right now, not tear each other down. I had promised her I'd love her and stand by her side in good and in bad. I didn't know the bad would come this quickly or be this brutal.

  I loved my wife more than I've ever loved anything. She was everything to me. Watching her fade into a shell of her former self was breaking my heart. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her tears away and make everything better. Something deep inside me yearned to fix her. I just didn't know how.

  Each day that passed, the loneliness grew. It was to the point that I missed her so badly I ached inside. Her smile, her laughter, her sweet caresses that drove me to distraction. The way she tightened around me as I moved inside her. The sound of my name spilling effortlessly from her mouth when I gave her the ultimate pleasure.

  Adjusting the now semi-erect dick in my pants and shaking my head at my wayward thoughts, I headed towards the bedrooms to see where my wife was. My initial assumption had been that I would find her passed out in the bed, so I was slightly surprised when a faint light spilled into the hallway from behind our bedroom door.

  At the sound of the door opening, Maya slowly turned from her perch at the end of the bed and looked at me with her face devoid of emotion. Looking in her eyes was like looking into a black space of nothingness.

  "What the fuck?" I whispered in disbelief. I
had never seen her this bad. It was creepy as fuck.

  "Maya?" I approached her slowly like you would a spooked animal. It didn't matter though because she paid me no mind—looking right through me as if I wasn't even there.

  "What's going on, sweetheart?"

  Instead of answering, she turned away and brought a glass of tequila to her lips, taking a large gulp of the liquid.

  "I wish you would talk to me," I pleaded with her. Her despondency was alarming. It was so much worse than hearing her slur her words as she drank herself into a stupor. Worse than listening to her cry herself to sleep night after night. Worse than lying next to her and feeling so far away, letting my own tears wet my face as she softly wept.

  We sat next to each other in silence as I tried to figure out what to say to make it better. I had no clue what would bring her out of her head and get her to talk to me.

  "Please, sweetheart," I went on begging. The helplessness inside was tearing at me. What kind of man was I that I couldn't help my wife? I should be able to take her pain away. Instead, I was sitting by watching her slip away, consumed by her despair.

  "I'm falling apart," she eventually whispered so faintly I almost didn't hear her.

  An overwhelming feeling of relief washed over me when she spoke. Needing to touch her, I squeezed her hand that lay in between us on the bed. Relief was quickly replaced with hurt when she pulled away from me.

  "It hurts so much. I feel like such a failure." Her voice remained soft and small as she spoke.

  I was afraid to say anything for fear that it would stop her from confessing what was in her soul. I didn't want her to keep running away. If we were going to move on from this, I needed her to face this head on.

  "Becoming a mother is the most natural thing for a woman. When you fail at something so basic, it's a travesty. It rips your soul in two and leaves you struggling to survive. You see women that are pregnant or women with kids and you feel hollow inside. This elusive, unobtainable dream is constantly shoved in your face making you feel less than a whole person. Less than a real woman." Her voice was low and tormented as she spoke and a pang in my chest reverberated with the depth of her sorrow.

  My helplessness grew while listening to her, knowing there was no way I could possibly make this better for her. Only time would truly heal her, and I wanted to scream and curse for having my hands tied.

  "It's humiliating, Travis." She began to sob. The now empty glass of booze fell to the floor with a thud. Her hands covered her face, and I wasted no time pulling her into my arms and rocking her as she cried. I didn't know what else I was supposed to do, so I sat there and cried too.

  I whispered soothing words to her as she released all the emotions she had bottled up inside. I wanted her to know that no matter what, I loved her and would be there for her. I wanted her to know I would always be there to wipe her tears when they fell and hold her up when she was too weak to stand herself.

  Eventually her cries quieted into hiccups. When her body went slack and her breathing evened out, I looked down and placed a soft kiss on her sleeping face.

  When the doorbell rang, I carefully extracted myself from her and went to answer the door. Looking through the peephole, I was surprised to see Elizabeth standing there.

  "Hey," I said as she walked past me into the foyer.

  "Hey. Sorry it's so late, but I couldn't let another day go by without talking to Maya. She didn't answer any of my calls earlier." She had a determined look on her face as she went to walk towards the living room in search of Maya, but I stopped her with my hand on her arm.

  "She's sleeping."

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrow and looked at her watch. "Okay, I know it's late, but it isn't that late."

  All I could do was look back at her without giving an explanation. I wasn't sure what I should say. She latched onto that like a dog with a bone. "What's going on with her, Trav? I saw her drinking like a fish last night and heard some of what she said—it was kind of hard not to when you were screaming at each other."

  I sighed, knowing it wouldn't do any good to keep Lizzie in the dark. Maya needed all the reinforcements she could get in order to move past everything that had happened. "How about a cup of tea and I'll explain everything?"

  A half hour later, Elizabeth sat across from me silently crying. As she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, I began to wonder if telling her was wrong. Maya might not be too happy with my decision, especially since she didn't have a hand in making it. Every decision I made these days seemed to be made with fear of what her reaction would or wouldn't be.

  "And how are you holding up through all this?" She asked and I blinked at her, unsure how to answer that. No one had asked me how I felt up until this point, and I was okay with that. Maya was the important one in this equation, and I didn't mind putting all the focus onto her and her needs. I had to admit though that it felt good to have someone take my feelings into consideration.

  "It sucks." I took in a deep breath. "It's unfair and I'd give anything to have had it not happen, both for me and for her. The hardest part, I think, is not knowing what will help Maya. Every day I watch her sink further and further into depression and I'm terrified." My throat began to burn with unshed tears, and my voice cracked at my admission.

  "Oh, Travis," Elizabeth whispered before rising from her chair and coming over to offer me comfort. I stood too, making it easier for her to envelope me in her warm embrace.

  I pulled back and let out a short bark of laughter when her stomach kicked me. She giggled a little and put her hand over the area where I had felt the movement.

  "He's active tonight," she explained. "Do you want to feel?"

  Unsure if that was a wise choice or not, I let my curiosity override my hesitancy. She guided my hand to her stomach and pressed lightly on it. I waited with bated breath for something to happen. Just when I was ready to give up, a tiny foot pushed at my hand from the inside of her belly. It was the most remarkable thing I had ever witnessed.

  "Holy shit," I breathed, pressing a little harder this time.

  "I know," she laughed out. "It's amazing isn't it?"

  The feel of that tiny little foot had a few hot tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes. Knowing it could have been Maya and me standing here in a few months, sharing this moment together, savagely tore at my heart. In that moment, I knew what Maya must have experienced on Christmas watching Lizzie and Grant together.

  "What's going on here?" At the sound of Maya's voice, I pulled my hand back from Elizabeth's stomach and turned to look at her. She had a face of thunder as she took in what could be presumed as an intimate position.

  "M—" I started, but Elizabeth cut me off.

  "I'll handle this. Come. We need to talk." She grabbed Maya's hand and pulled her from the kitchen towards our bedroom. She stopped briefly in the doorway and winked, letting me know she had this.

  I rolled my eyes at her and said a silent prayer that the worst was behind us.

  * * *

  Maya

  "So you're jealous of me? You hate me?" Elizabeth jumped into her inquisition as soon as the door shut behind her.

  "Maybe," I answered her defiantly. My arms crossed of their own volition and my stance screamed not to mess with me.

  "Well, you know what? I'm jealous of you!" Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and letting them fall at her sides.

  Taken aback by her confession, my mouth gaped and I sputtered, "Me? Why they hell would you be jealous of me?"

  Elizabeth broke down and started crying. I fought the urge to comfort her. The image of my husband holding her pregnant belly was like poison running through my veins, feeding my indigence and anger. Besides, I didn't want her pity. It was the one thing I had been avoiding. "Because you're so damn strong. I never could have handled everything you've been through with your asshole ex and now the miscarriage."

  "He told you?" I was going to kill Travis for sharing my personal tragedy with anyone without m
y consent. It was something I had wanted to keep from everyone. It was too fucking embarrassing knowing that she was aware of my failure.

  "Yes, and I wish you had. You're like my sister, Maya. I would have helped you through it."

  I bit back an apology. "I needed to do get through it myself."

  "No. You need people around you that will listen and love you. You can't cut everyone out. Can you really say it's been working out well for you?" She lectured me.

  "Do you have any idea how embarrassing this all is?" I raised my voice defensively and was disappointed with how shaky it sounded.

  "What is?"

  "Take your pick. My not being able to get pregnant. Having you see how far I've sunk. My behavior yesterday was despicable. I'm not strong. I'm fucking weak," I said on a sob. Elizabeth closed the distance between us and hugged me. Together we cried and in a way it was cathartic. It might not have healed all my wounds, but it went a long way to soothing my ravaged soul.

  "Oh, honey. Being human shouldn't embarrass you. We all make mistakes. We all have failures. It's what we do with those failures that really matters."

  "Well, I've done shit. I've completely ostracized Travis. I think he hates me." A fresh wave of tears came at the thought of losing him. Even when I pushed him away and locked him out, I never wanted to lose him.

  "He doesn't hate you. He's worried about you. He told me so himself. He loves you so much, Maya. You have a bond that can't be broken easily. Eventually you'll see that the saying what doesn't kill you makes you stronger is so true."

  "Please. You have the perfect life," I scoffed at her insinuation that she knew what I was going through.

  "Perfect?" She threw her head back and laughed. "Nothing about life is ever perfect. First, you can't forget how bad I struggled early on after my dad died. And let's not skim over that horrible time when Grant and I were apart while I was pregnant. Or how I pushed him away because I was punishing myself for not telling him about the baby. And if you only lived with Grant you would realize it's not a lazy stroll through the park. That man can be trying, even on a good day."