I was wearing the same dress to the Christmas Ball that I had worn to the Navy Ball. The black fabric hung nicely around my waist giving way to flowing skirts over my hips and legs. For what seemed like the first time in years, my copper hair was tamed; it was curled loosely and fell around my shoulders, tickling my back when I swished it. I had applied a thin layer of makeup, just like last time, paying close attention to my eyes. A few extra swipes of mascara had been added to make my oak eyes pop.
Leaving my bedroom, I found my mom seated on the couch. When she turned to find me, her expression was lit by the dim, starry lights of our Christmas tree.
"Delia," she said, standing up. "You look beautiful."
I didn't search my mom's eyes. I didn't need to, not anymore. "Thanks, Mom."
"Nick's going to be beside himself."
My chin drifted to the floor.
"Oh," my mom said, "are you not dressed for Nick?"
To disguise this truth, my chin dipped lower. I wasn't dressed for Nick. I hadn't thought of him when I curled my hair, I hadn't thought of him when I strategically applied makeup, and I hadn't thought of him when I slipped into my dress. In fact, I had told Nick I was going to drive myself to the hotel housing the Christmas Ball.
"Well," my mom continued, "whoever it is you're dressed for, I don't think they'll know what to do." She lifted my chin with her hand. "And Delia, you can always dress up for yourself, you know. You don't need someone else to be the reason."
I nodded into her warm palm.
"Have fun, Delia."
xxx
The people in the ballroom were a blur. Shades of blue, black, and a few bright colors blended as though looking at a Monet painting. I was too close. Nothing made sense. My life was spinning around in a massive flurry. Maybe if I backed away and watched from a distance, I would understand the scene in front of me.
Nick found me ten minutes after I arrived and was quick to pull me to our table. Garrett, Grayer, Aquino, and a few others were dispersed around it talking amongst themselves. I plopped down into the first chair I came to.
"What do you want to drink?" Nick asked.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"Okay. I'm gonna see if I can sneak some champagne or something. Be right back." He departed and was absorbed into the whirring mass.
My head had been filled with Warner and my death date the entire drive to the hotel. I hadn't registered the lines of the road, stoplights, or any other traffic. Auto-pilot had gotten me here safely, and though the music blasted and people chattered nonstop around me, it wasn't enough to stop either of the two topics from making their continual loop.
My eyes roamed the vicinity, but I didn't see Warner. Not that I had much of a chance; everything was still blurred.
Sighing, I folded my arms on the table. Copper hair spilled over my shoulder and tickled my skin. I was surprised it still maintained its curl.
"What's wrong with you?"
Garrett had taken the empty seat beside me. His expression was jovial: wide grin, full cheeks, and eyes as round as ever.
"Hey, Garrett," I said. "How are you?"
"Well, that has to be the sorriest attempt at a fake smile as I've ever seen." He edged closer. "What's wrong, Delia?"
Everything, I thought. Everything was wrong.
"Just had a lousy couple of weeks is all," I said.
"Yeah, I've been there," Garrett said. "It gets better though. Promise. Bad things like to happen all at once."
Scratching my arm, I said, "I think I attract bad things."
Garrett's head tilted. "What makes you say that?"
"Nothing," I answered quickly before twisting my neck to meet Garrett's eyes. They were wide and kind, and I suddenly felt sick. Like me, Garrett had a death date approaching. "You know you're one of the best people I've ever met, right?"
Garrett's round eyes compressed.
"You are, Garrett. You invited me right in with the group when Nick introduced me, and you've been nothing but nice ever since. The world needs more people like you." I swallowed something hard.
"Delia," he started slowly. "Are you okay?"
Before I could answer, Nick returned sans alcohol, but flushed as though he had thrown back a few shots. He wedged himself between Garrett and me.
"Hey, you're never gonna guess who's here. Barlow, this guy I went to boot camp with." Nick's brows shot upwards. "He's TAD here - temporarily assigned - just last month. Crazy, right?"
"Crazy," I muttered, suddenly feeling the desperate urge to tell Nick how I had been feeling over the last few weeks. Why had it taken me this long? What was holding me back? "Nick, can we talk for a minute?"
He glanced behind him. "Can it wait? I'm gonna go sit at Barlow's table for a little while and catch up. You wanna come?" he asked.
I sighed. "I think I'll stay, but have fun."
Nick flung off the table. "See you in a bit." And, once again, he disappeared into the colorful mass.
Garrett returned his sights to me, but before he was spared another few seconds to investigate further into the reason behind my subdued attitude, someone came to a stop right next to us. Slowly, I traced upwards from the dark blue pants to the stony, hard face I had become so accustomed to. Recalling our kiss, my fingers remembered the feel of his face - it wasn't nearly as harsh as it looked.
"Hi, Delia."
I gulped.
"Can I talk to you?"
I felt strapped to my chair. For days I had thought of little else than the chance to speak with Warner. Though the conversation varied depending on my mood, I knew I needed to have one with him, and now the moment had come. I didn't even have to put in the work. Warner had sought me out. Yet, I was glued in place. I had wanted this so bad I found that, in the moment, I was afraid of what came after. The conversation was a finish line, and I wasn't sure I was ready to see beyond it.
"Delia, do you want –" Garret started, but I cut him off.
"– It's okay." Breaking the imaginary ties, I stood up.
Warner quickly grazed over my silhouette and rubbed the nape of his neck. "Let's go to the lobby."
With a nod, I followed in Warner's wake, happy his tall and disgruntled demeanor made people duck out of his way. The lobby was pleasantly lit and nearly empty, and my vision cleared. I suddenly felt very present.
"Did you report him – Lewis?" Warner asked.
Surprised by the question, I stammered, "What? Oh, yeah – yeah, I did." In fact, I had reported the incident the following day. I had given a statement at the local police station, which was equal parts terrifying and gratifying.
"Good," Warner breathed. "What are they going to do about it?"
"They asked if I wanted to press charges," I said, and Warner lifted his brow. "I told them I did."
Warner's shoulders sank. It had honestly been a difficult decision. The thought of having the added strain of an investigation nearly upended the already overflowing plate I was somehow balancing, but I only had to think of the other woman and her frightened expression when she was trapped by Lewis' body. And then I thought of myself. I had less than a month left. Why not spend it doing some good? That was all it took for me to decide to press charges.
"So what do you have to do?" he asked.
"Well, I already gave them my statement," I said inhaling, as the memory filtered through. "I was told they would start an investigation and asked if there were any witnesses." I smoothed a hand over my forearm. "I gave them your contact info. So they might try getting in touch with you soon."
A giggling man and woman exited the hall; Warner and I let our attention drift over them as they pushed through the glass double doors leading outside.
"They also asked me if I wanted to issue a restraining order," I added.
"Did you?"
"Yeah." I bit my polished nail, leaving a chip in the corner. "They kept asking me if I was afraid when it was happening, like the more afraid I was, the better, or something. I don't know – they made a big deal about it. And I was scared. I was, but they kept asking these questions and I didn't – I didn't realize... And by the end," I sighed, "I just felt terrified.
"Anyway, they told me that he would most likely be charged with a misdemeanor. I don't really know what that means, but if a court finds him guilty, he'll probably pay a fine or something."
Warner took a step. "He also has a record with the military. The two are separate but having this on his civilian record is a good thing. It'll make it hard for him to do it again."
Chewing my lip, I added, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up."
"You were doing fine as far as I could tell," Warner said, his entire expression serious.
"I'm trying to thank you."
"And I'm trying to tell you not to worry about it."
The woman and man came back in through the double doors, their laughter instantly filling the lobby. Warner and I didn't watch them this time, instead keeping our attention on each other. He took a step closer and my chest tightened.
"You look nice – beautiful," Warner murmured, a blush painting his cheeks.
My chest compressed further. To break the tension, I dropped my eyes to my dress. "Thank you. It's the same dress I wore to the Navy Ball."
"I noticed."
With that, I found Warner again. He took another step and there was a strong chance I was going to spontaneously combust.
"Listen," Warner started. I could see the words filtering behind his mouth, and, at the last second, they changed direction. "Would you like to dance?"
"Um," I said. "Okay."
As though the universe planned it, the booming sounds of upbeat pop had melted into a slow acoustic song seconds before we entered the ballroom. Warner and I edged along the backside of the space as couples locked limbs and began swaying back and forth in time.
Warner hesitantly extended his hand and I hesitantly took it, and I would forever remember the feel of slowly being taken into his arms. His hands loosely grasped at my lower back and I positioned mine on his shoulders. A few inches held us apart, but as we continued rocking slowly, the gap whittled away.
I felt safe in a way I never had. Before the last few months, I felt safe in my bedroom, I felt safe at work, I felt safe in my routines. They were comfortable. I knew them inside and out. Being in Warner's arms was different. I was protected but also exposed: he saw me, held me, and breathed me in without any filter. I was an entire person for the world to see and Warner was my shelter, a place I could return to when everything else was too much.
Warner's fingers gently played with the ends of my curly mane. I molded into him; my face rested against his chest and the vibrations of his heart thumped against my ear, strong and fast. I clutched my hands together around his neck wanting the moment to last forever.
But the music stopped and so did the moment. I had been stupid to think three minutes could possibly last any longer. Three minutes. That's all I got. It's all I would ever get.
I was going to die in twenty-seven days.
Emotion brimming, I parted from Warner and swatted away any threat of tears. My eyes burned fiercely.
"Delia, wait – I –"
I tore from the ballroom before Warner got the chance to finish and headed for the double doors with the promise of cool air. It cleansed my skin. With hands gripping my waist, I tilted my head backwards. The sky was clear; stars dotted the velvety night and the nearly full moon shone like a spotlight over the city. I had been camping a few times as a little girl in Big Bear and Joshua Tree where the entire galaxy seemed to be twinkling above. I would have given anything to be there at this moment, stowed away in a tent and watching the stars shine from billions of miles away.
The door swung open and Warner appeared. I closed my eyes.
"I know you died," I said.
The sound of Warner's footsteps told me he was right beside me.
"In the car accident with your dad," I clarified. "I know you died too."
He was silent.
"And then you came back."
"Yeah."
"What was it like?" I asked.
"Dying?" Warner drew a breath. "I don't know." He paused." Dark, quiet, somehow both empty and full."
"Like the night sky?"
"Yeah, I guess," Warner mumbled. "Delia, I –"
"And then you came back," I repeated, opening my eyes and landing on him.
"I came back."
"And what was that like?"
Warner's attention drifted to the overhead sky. He studied them as though searching for some hidden answer. "It was wasted at first. I didn't want to be back."
"Why?"
"I wanted... I thought I should be with my dad." Warner dropped his chin. "But I realized that by spending my days wishing to be dead, that I already was." Wind rippled his dress blues and billowed my skirt. "So I did something. I joined the Navy, I moved my grandma to San Diego with me, and I... I confronted my past."
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
Shifting, Warner clasped his hands. "Delia, when I told you I was angry in the past... I was. I was angry at you. I don't deny it, okay?" he said and then rounded on me. "And it took a lot of time and a lot of people to get me to see what my problem was. Me. I was the problem, and I had to confront that. That's what I mean. I had to –" He clipped his sentence by pinching his nose. "Look," he continued, "my therapist, the one I see now, I talked about you a lot with her. She told me I was blaming you for the wrong reasons, and when she found out I was moving back to San Diego, she told me I should try to make amends, or if I couldn't do that, at least try to speak with you once and get some closure, but..." Warner shoved his hands behind his head. "When I saw you that first time, Delia, I got so angry."
I was shaking. My skin was freezing even though heat roamed through my veins.
"It all came back when I saw you then – at the coffee shop. All of those feelings came back," Warner panted. "And then I kept seeing you, over and over again, and I realized with each time that that was what I needed. Delia" – he cupped my jaw, thumbing my cheek – "I saw it so quickly after that. Once that anger went away it was like fog had lifted. I felt alive, I felt new, and I saw it. You. I saw you. Like I hadn't before, and I didn't know how to act."
Tears were spilling. Down, down, down they fell, running over Warner's warm hand. His thumb wicked them away.
"Warner," I croaked, "I'm scared."
"Scared of what?" he whispered, lifting his other hand to encompass my face.
Everything in me wanted to tell him. To tell him I heard death dates. To tell him I didn't know his. To tell him mine. But what good would it do him? What good would it do us? Time was running out.
"I d-don't know what t-to do," I choked. "I'm scared."
"Delia," he began, "if you keep locking yourself up and burying yourself under the past, you're going to lose sight of anything that might come your way. I learned that the hard way. There isn't much point in living if you're not really living to begin with." Warner pulled me closer, and it took all my willpower not to fade into him.
"I know this is wrong, okay? I know it's wrong. I know you're with Nick, but I have to say this once, okay? Just one time, and whatever your answer is, I will respect it," Warner mumbled into my hair, pushing me back softly so our eyes connected. "I don't know when it changed, I really don't, but once that anger left, once I saw you clearly, I really saw you, Delia. And I couldn't stay away," he said in a rush. "Every time I saw you I had to be near you. Every time. And honestly," he said, stroking my hairline, "this isn't close enough. Even dancing in there wasn't close enough.
"You're strong, Delia. Stronger than I think you or anybody else realizes. You put up with a lot of shit and keep trudging forward. Maybe that's what it is I'm trying to get. Maybe that's why I need you so close. I don't know. I can't figure it out, but I need you close. And when you kissed me..." Warner's mouth was right next to mine. "It all came together. Right in that moment it all came together. You're it. You're it for me, and I want you just as much as I need you, but I also realize – I understand that..." Warner sighed. "I don't have anything to offer you."
My swelling heart exploded into a million pieces. "Warner," I choked, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Warner..."
"What's going on?"
With his hands still cupping my sopping face, we both turned to find Nick. His mouth was a hard line. Warner released his hands.
"Delia, what's going on?" he demanded.
"Nick, I –"
Nick lifted a palm to quiet Warner.
"I'm asking Delia. What's going on?"
The words were there, right on the tip of my tongue. I just had to open my mouth and tell Nick. Tell him I didn't want to be with him any longer. I didn't love him. I wanted to be with Warner. I wanted to spend the remaining days I had left with Warner.
The remaining days I had left.
Twenty-seven days.
My eyes filled with another round of tears. I couldn't be with Warner. It wasn't fair. To him or to me. What good could come from twenty-seven days together? It was only enough time to develop even more feelings and have them crushed. How could I enjoy my time with him knowing it would soon end? And how could I possibly do that to him?
So, fighting my own battle, I didn't say a single word. And this was apparently enough for Warner. He grazed beside me, lingered for a second, and then continued walking only turning around when he hit the pathway leading to the parking lot.
"I told you I'd respect your decision, Delia, and I do," he said. "And maybe this is what I deserve anyway for everything I did to you back then. I am really sorry," he finished and, after turning a heel, left Nick and me alone.
"What the hell was he talking about?" Nick asked.
Fighting back more tears, I sputtered, "I can't do this anymore, Nick."
"Do what?"
"This." I motioned between us. "I can't be with you."
Nick's brows stitched, and, thumbing his mouth he said, "Why? What are you doing? We've been together two years!"
I nodded heavily. "I know. And I really did care about you."
"Did?" he questioned.
"Nick, I'm – I'm sorry. I just – I can't..." My chest was seizing. "I'm not the same person I was back then, back when we first started dating. And neither are you, and that's okay, Nick. People change."
"What are you saying?"
"You know what I'm saying."
Nick's face pinched. "You want to break up?"
"We have to," I pleaded.
"No, we don't."
I continued to field more stammering sobs. "Y-Yes, we do, Nick."
"What are you talking about? This is coming out of nowhere." He moved closer, stiffly, as though this would somehow shield my next words.
"Nick," I pleaded, "you can't think this is coming out of nowhere."
Somehow, he ran even more rigid. "But we know each other. Things have been good. We've got something good – it's easy, it's –"
Cutting him off by shaking my head, I said, "But we don't know each other, Nick. Not really. You know my routine, how I act, but you don't know who I am."
"What are you talking about?"
I sealed my eyes shut, tears leaking. "I'm so sorry, Nick. I should have – I shouldn't have let this go on for so long, and I'm truly sorry for that, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't," I finished, voice fractured, but somehow I had never felt so whole.
His expression morphed from pure shock to straight anger. "I can't believe this. Two years. You want to throw away two years!"
I reached a hand to place on his arm, but he pushed it away. "I'm sorry, Nick."
"Is it him?" he asked. "Warner. Is it him?"
Licking my lips, I said, "He's one of many reasons."
Through a dry laugh, Nick snarled, "That's just great, Delia. Perfect." His flailing hands were shoved into his pockets. "I hope you two are happy together." He then took off for the hotel and the double doors slammed shut behind him.
I was alone. And maybe that was for the best. It was what I wanted, wasn't it?
xxx
A/N: BYE NICK. It took Delia so long to finally end things with him, and I'm sorry you guys had struggle through that. But I wanted to show how hard it can be to break things off when you're comfortable with someone. Personally, I think this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it! Thanks so much for sticking with this story, and I will see you on Wednesday! ❤