Rebecca Caruso
As I shut the cab door behind me, the distant hum of the engine gradually faded away, and a sense of déjà vu swept over me, caught in a perpetual loop from the night before.
Same time, the same place, and the same inexplicable feeling...
Guilt.
With cautious steps, I made my way home. The crisp crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet resonated through the silence. Each footfall carried a hint of uncertainty, as though the entire world held its breath, anticipating my next move.
I left the diner, belly full of pancakes and mind buzzing with a mix of panic and poised persuasion. The meeting with Rafael had been a delicate dance of negotiations, and the subsequent phone call with Marco left lingering uncertainties in the air.
Though five minutes had passed since I hung up the phone, I could still feel the verberation of Marco's anxiety through my ears. I needed him to trust me —for my own sake; not Rafael's, and certainly not for this case.
A familiar sight of our front porch came into view. An unexpected scene unfolded as Christopher and Robert sat side by side, savoring their cigars.
Shit.
The soft glow of tobacco cast a warm ambiance, contrasting with the chilly night. Christopher looked up, a smile spreading across his face as he waved. "Hey, you're finally home!"
"Hey...you're both up," I remarked, waving back as I walked up the few steps. "Why?"
"We just wanted to make sure you got home safely, sweetheart," Robert greeted me, his voice infused with forced warmth. "Especially after last night."
"Last night," I replied vaguely, shooting a direct look at Christopher.
Seriously, can't he ever figure out when to zip it?
"You told him about last night?" The irritation lingered in my tone, a silent plea for him to grasp the concept of personal boundaries.
Christopher took a puff from his cigar, his brows furrowed, unease apparent in his expression. "Yeah, well, he wanted to know why I was still up."
I paused, grappling with a surge of displeasure. What, am I not allowed to let loose once in a while? "You're both aware that I am a capable, independent adult, right? You easily could've called or texted."
My father responded without words, a contemplative puff escaping from his cigar.
I couldn't help but read between the lines, a voice in my head whispering, He's upset that I didn't answer his call last night. The unspoken tension lingered, interwoven with the tendrils of smoke that swirled between us.
Christopher extinguished his cigar abruptly. "We were worried, that's all there is to it, Beck, I swear," he admitted, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and remorse.
"You knew I was with Rafael," I responded, a touch of defiance in my voice.
"Exactly," Robert added coldly, his words cutting through the air like an unexpected chill. The sting of his tone settled, and an ache of disappointment lingered.
Ah, so that was the reason they waited up. He never cared about the actions of last night; he was just prowling for the words spoken this evening. They despised Rafael's probable influence on me, believing a jolt of manly intervention would erase it all.
Internally, I sighed, recognizing their intentions while still grappling with the frustration of my brother being unheard and unacknowledged. I held their gaze, attempting to convey my point without letting resentment seep into my words.
"Look, I totally get it," I suggested, my tone softening. "But, honestly, it's getting late, and I'm tired. I think it's best we all go home and get proper rest."
'Cause I had one hell of a day. I couldn't shake off the weariness that settled deep within me. The events of the day had taken their toll, and the weight of unresolved tensions lingered in the air. I needed a break, a singular moment of solitude to unwind the knots that had formed within my mind.
I pivoted to Christopher, offering a small yet poignant smile, a genuine gesture to express some form of sincerity. "It's your first day on the big Montanari case tomorrow; wouldn't want to wake up in a cranky mood."
"You make a point," Christopher added, his acknowledgment carrying a hint of appreciation.
Robert's brows furrowed slightly as he attempted to conceal his unease. "Irene probably fell asleep on the couch waiting for me; best I go now too before her back tweaks up," I observed silently as he purposefully extinguished his cigar on our deck, the sizzle of its end meeting the wood, forever scarring the paint. "Bright and early, Chico, we got work to do."
"Yes, sir," Christopher replied, his response punctuated with a respectful nod.
I turned away, rolling my eyes from the grating conversation and strolled towards the house, yearning to distance myself from their burgeoning companionship.
Entering home, a persistent feeling lingered—a sense that I wasn't only concealing something from them but also from myself. The uneasiness wrapped around me, planting seeds of doubt about whether I was truly doing the right thing.
Lying to everyone, about everything. Was it worth it?
The soft creak of the door announced Christopher's entrance. Leaning against the doorframe, his tall figure cast a subtle shadow in the dimly lit hallway. His presence seemed to amplify the weight of my secrets, and I couldn't help but wonder if I could keep up this facade for much longer.
His gaze, steady and unwavering, bore into mine as he spoke. "Beck, babe, I think we need to talk."
I paused and looked at him, absorbing the intensity of his stare. "Everything good?"
"No. Not really," Christopher admitted. He took a deep breath, the weight of his words palpable in the air. He searched for the right words, his eyes flickering with a tumultuous range of emotions.
"Are you mad at me or something?" he questioned, the concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "I mean, your father mentioned you were upset earlier for not inviting you to the bar this morning, and for not telling you about the promotion, but I swear, Beck, seriously, I totally would've—"
Of course, self-centered simplicity. That's all Christopher cared about. His image, his look, his title. What was I really attracted to? The sex. The comfort. Certainly not the reliability.
"It's not about you, Chris and... it's not about this morning either," I sighed, meeting his gaze with sincerity. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, now reflected a mix of emotions. "Since my suspension, I dunno, I guess I've just been moping around here like a hopeless, useless, puppy. I just feel like I'm worth more, that I can do more, you know?"
Christopher's eyes softened as he processed my words. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."
"I appreciate it," I assured him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "But I don't think your actions or words can fix this feeling." I needed more than just an apology; I craved understanding, a connection that ran deeper than the surface-level conversations we often found ourselves entangled in.
"I want to understand, Beck. I really do," he admitted, his voice carrying a sincerity that hadn't been there before. "Tell me, how can I help? I don't want you feeling lost, and I definitely don't want you comparing yourself to a lost dog. I need you. I love you."
Great, 'the L word.' I wonder what it means to him when he throws it around. The reasons he loves me? Love doesn't go against your back, and get you suspended. Love doesn't leave you alone all day long without a phone call or text. Love certainly doesn't share private matters with a man who's been overly controlling your life since your only best friend, your only mom, passed away...
I took a deep breath, controlling my thoughts. "This suspension— I think it's best if I use this time to go on a mini vacation. Some me-time. I think I deserve it, don't you?"
Christopher's gaze held mine, concern lingering in his eyes. "Yeah, of course, you can totally do that. If you think you need it, I'm all for it."
Feeling his support, I continued, "You can place all your focus on the Montanari case, and I can just focus on me." His grip on my hand tightened, and he moved a step closer, his body language expressing both understanding and a desire to connect.
"When it's all said and done," I added, meeting his eyes, "we both come home and have crazy makeup sex."
A playful smile danced on his lips, as he responded with a soft chuckle, "You like putting things into perspective, don't you?"
"I try," I replied with a grin.
As he pulled me into a warm embrace, his words lingered in the air. "Alright, if you genuinely believe this is what you need. Then I'm all for it."
"Thank you," I expressed, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The thought of taking a break, even a temporary one, resonated within me. Perhaps Rafael was onto something; though it was part of the plan, a Ross-Rachel break might indeed be a good thing.
I let the idea settle in...
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