Half a month was what Angelica needed to forget. Forget the hurt anyway.
She was back on track, back to work, back to her usual activities.
But she was not the same and she knew that.
She was softer—as what others pointed out.
And she seemed lonelier as what Chanty and Cassandra pointed out. That was true. She felt like she was better off dead, roaming around everywhere like a zombie.
She tried calling Henry’s number but it was not available anymore, so never think she didn’t try.
Believe it when she said she tried. She tried every damn thing she could. Hell, she was even there when they finally closed down the firm. But Henry wasn’t. Not a shadow, not a sign. Nothing.
It was like he was gone—completely erased from the face of the earth.
She also went to his apartment but only to find that it was empty and was open for lease.
Yeah, so you wouldn’t wonder why she stopped looking. She tried and even with her wide experience of stalking, she just finally gave up trying to find the only man she knew was right for her.
Because he was so good at covering his tracks.
Because he was a freaking NSA agent.
Hell, she tried and failed a lot of times. It was finally time to get over it and accept that she had to stand on what they had agreed: NO STRINGS ATTACHED.
Blast it, damn it, bull it, but it was true. No strings attached. She must have been so stupid to think he felt something for her.
All she knew for certain was that he felt guilty over what happened to her mother. He shouldn’t be. Angelica was not a fool to think he should be responsible for something her mother wanted all along.
So, yes, she was back to her normal routine, taking care of people she didn’t really personally care about. She was trying—real hard—to let go. In the past, it was an easy thing to do every time someone she stalked didn’t suit her at all. But with Henry, it was as difficult as finding a cure for cancer. It was a slow, agonizing process. It was like getting over Jessica’s death all over again.
But she had to, didn’t she? She just had to.
*****
Physical pain was not new to him.
But the kind of pain he felt every freaking time Angelica’s tortured face crossed his mind was not what he was used to. No painkiller could numb the pang in his chest every time he thought of the things he shared with her.
Shit, even her unnecessary blabbers were something he yearned for. Her soft silk-like red hair was something he dreamed about. The sound of her, the feel of her, the sight of her, the memories of her, were plain mental torture. He would give anything to forget her. But he knew, deep inside, that there was nothing he could do or give to replace his lovely ward.
His once lovely ward, he corrected himself.
He stayed away as planned.
Far, far away. He knew she tried to find him, but he knew as well it was only to ask more questions. And he didn’t feel like he wanted to answer any more of them. He only wanted her. But that would be impossible.
She hated him now.
He knew that for certain. She flinched when he touched her that night he told her about her mother’s death.
That was answer enough. They couldn’t be together.
Henry drunk himself with new dangerous assignments, he exhausted himself with more physical activities, but at the end of the day, when he was completely alone in his bed, he would find himself thinking about her.
How her soft laughter would ring around the eerie silence, about her reaction if she saw his fresh wounds, how she would complain about his food, and how she would ease everything else like nothing happened. Like there was always answer for everything he encountered.
He missed how her loud, stupid mouth would get him in trouble, or how her compulsive and aggressive behavior would snap his nerves. Shit, he missed every freaking thing about her.
He couldn’t get over it—over the pain.
But it was pain nonetheless. It was just different and he had to get over it fast before he had the urge to appear in front of her and ruin both their lives.
He had to heal on his own—the old way.
*****
Of course we all knew she couldn’t just forget and move on, right? Angelica Dalton would always be Angelica Dalton. Call her whatever, but she would always be that girl who would get back on her feet and start fighting.
The time for bleeding dry and crying and moping were over. The time for longing and heartaches were history. Now, she was out to change that.
Her mother, the one who chose to leave her was dead. She could pray for her, but she couldn’t make her come back and tell her the reason why she left, could she?
Her father, the man who decided for himself that she was too frail to handle a tinge of truth was murdered. She could—again—pray for him, but he couldn’t very well just swoosh his way back to tell her every little secret he kept, right?
But Henry, the man who left her thinking he didn’t deserve her, was still alive. She couldn’t just leave everything to prayer or wishes. He was still alive somewhere, kicking asses, and he better hide because she finally decided she couldn’t keep her promise to stay away.
She actually decided on it one fateful night while she was having her rounds in the hospital.
There was this little girl who just witnessed her mother’s death. The girl was told her mother would not be coming back and that God had taken her away to a more beautiful place. What that girl didn’t know was that her mother had suffered a great deal before she died.
Angelica didn’t have the heart to tell her that her mother had experienced the most excruciating pain before death claimed her. What she told the little girl was, “Your mother was thinking of you when she left…”
She did that because deep inside, that was what she had wanted to know when she found out her mother was gone. She wanted to tell the girl not to give up, to be strong, to live, and to be happy. Deep inside, she knew as well that she was saying those very same words to herself.
Never give up. Be strong. Live. Be happy.
Those were her jumpstart and once Angelica Dalton got her jumpstart, no one—not anyone—could stop her.
*****
“So, how have you been?” Cassandra asked, sipping her cup of coffee.
Angelica stared at her dryly. She had told her friend everything—like every freaking little thing. And in return she learned about the forced marriage her friend had with her husband. That was quite a shocker but she eventually got over it.
“I’m like a comatose patient who is able to walk and have coffee,” she said sarcastically.
“No chance of finding him then?” Cassandra raised her brows.
“No, he’s completely out of reach,” she sighed.
“What do you plan to do? You want me to ask Philip? He might know where he is.”
Actually, she had thought of that at first. “I don’t think he would tell Philip.”
“My husband has this special ability to make someone say yes. Remember, he made the freaking IAU name a star after me,” Cassandra uttered with pride.
“You think he can do that?” Angelica asked doubtfully.
Cassandra straightened in her chair and heaved her chest out with pride. “Of course he can! We’ll just have to be careful though. Henry’s a bit smart. He might sense you’re behind it.”
It was Angelica’s turn to be prideful, “Of course Henry’s smart.”
Cassandra shrugged. “Let’s see then.”
*****
It was a week after when she finally got the chance she had been waiting for.
Cassandra met her one day with a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” she asked with a frown.
“Henry’s address,” Cassandra answered. “Well, his office address anyway. Philip was finally able to contact him and you wouldn’t want to know what my husband cooked up just to get it.”
“Are you sure it’s the right address?” she asked with so much doubt. She knew the address very well.
“Yes, Henry told him himself. Said it’s confidential and stuff,” Cassandra shrugged, sipping her frap.
“It’s the same apartment building he had months ago,” Angelica retorted with confusion. “Just a different unit…”
“Means he never left the state as what you so feared,” Cassandra pointed out.
Angelica looked at her friend with a smile. “Or he finally came back.” she sighed.
“Whatever the reason, he’s in town.”
“Thanks for this,” she said gratefully.
“It’s nothing,” Cassandra waved off. “You just better get that guy or Philip will kill me. He’s been nagging me about being too involved in this.”
She just laughed. Typical of Philip, of course.
*****
Henry was on the way to his target. Since the firm had closed down, the NSA was back to zero on closing in on the organization. After all, Pamela and the others were still undergoing trial and it would be a long time before they could question each and every one of them properly. The files they got from Patrick were still being studied piece by piece, word by word. A team was assigned to gather as much evidence against the organization from the files recovered in the firm the day of the raid after the incident with Pamela and Garrett as well, but the firm had been careful in many ways. They were still studying every documents and it would be a long time before they could start another plan to track down the organization.
Grissom thought he had to get a mission that did not involve the said organization so he could focus more. He had to rest, his superior said.
And by rest he meant getting assignments that were less important. Henry didn’t like that, but he had to accept it. It was the only way he could forget. He would have wanted it if he was flown away to another country, but being stuck at the same state—the same city, even—with Angelica Dalton was hard enough as it was. And work, like the one he was going to now was what he needed to keep his mind off his former ward.
The party was just starting when he arrived. He found his target within seconds of scanning the room full of people holding their own glasses of champagne.
Mr. Chong, a Chinese diplomat, was responsible for smuggling some Chinese into the country. Henry had enough evidence, but he needed to know who the man was working with.
He followed with his gaze as the Chinese man talked with Mr. Simon, an American ambassador. He walked near them, carrying a glass of wine, his face neutral.
*****
“Who are you again?” the man asked her for the second time.
“Angelica Hilton,” she lied with perfect elegance, her chin high in the air. “You don’t know me? I want to talk to your boss right now.”
The big guy looked alarmed. “Your name’s not on the list, Miss Hilton.”
“My name is too precious to be on that list, you arrogant fool,” she retorted. “Now,” she looked at him straight in the eyes and continued, “won’t you let me in or do I have to call your boss? If I do that, you better think of finding another job.”
The man looked at the chart once again and finally, dropping his shoulder, he stepped aside and let her in.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile and walked inside the building.
Hilton always works, she said to herself, smiling inwardly at her own wittiness. She had followed Henry to this place. God, she was not even dressed for a party, but she was presentable enough. She had on a simple red dress and a pair of black flats. She was just intending to have a little talk with Henry when she saw him walking out of the apartment building and into his car—and led her here.
Thanks to her powerful ability of crashing parties, she was finally able to get the chance to have him for herself.
Yeah, crazy, right? Following the man who obviously wanted nothing to do with you? Whatever, giving up was not in Angelica Dalton’s vocabulary, so forgive her for being this way.
Spotting him through the crowd of people was easy enough, but approaching him was quite a challenge. She suddenly got cold feet. She was frozen to her spot. Seeing him for the first time in a month was like seeing Gandalf or Dumbledore or Saint Peter or Goliath. It just felt like she was in the middle of a freaking warzone and she was stunned, frozen like an ice cube.
She made it sure that she was out of his sight as she tried to calm her nerves, fighting the part of her that wanted to get the hell out of the place. She grabbed a glass of champagne from the passing waiter and another one from another. She gulped down the two glasses like a parched camel. One glass for good luck and the other…well, because it was so good and it was free.
*****
Henry was not hiding at all, he was just merely eavesdropping. The two men were not trying to be discreet with what they were talking about and he used that to his advantage.
But the strangest thing happened when he had a sudden vision of someone walking toward him and it looked like he was seeing Angelica.
He mentally shook his head and focused his attention back at the conversation going on behind him.
But the vision was getting nearer and he couldn’t take his eyes off it.
I’m going crazy, he thought.
He found out he wasn’t because at that moment, Angelica’s beautiful, lovely face was staring up at him and from her mouth, the words, “Hi, Henry,” came out.
It took quite a long time before the little pieces of his brain finally agreed and voted that what he was seeing and heard were not mere hallucinations. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded with a hiss.
He didn’t actually plan to say it that way, but it just naturally came out like it usually did around her.
“I came for you,” she shrugged.
“What?”
“I finally decided we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” he looked around them. “Look, Angelica, I don’t have time right now. I’m on a freaking mission.”
She looked startled. “You’re in a mission?”
“Just get the hell out of here,” he hissed.
“No,” she surprised him by saying. “No, not until you hear me out.”
“What? Are you going to demand that I tell you everything all over again? I was responsible for your mother’s death. That should be enough to make you go away,” he said in a low voice, looking over her head.
“What are you talking about? I’m here to tell you about the baby.”
At first, he didn’t hear that last word, but when he did, his features froze and he looked down at her. “The what?”
“The baby,” she leaned up to whisper near his ear, “I’m pregnant, Henry.”