CHAPTER 127 — THE CALL

CHAPTER 127 — THE CALL

Lisa’s POV

Leo glances at his watch for the third time. “I really have to go,” Leo says.

I nod and follow him to the door. “I know. Your meeting.”

He spins so that he’s facing me completely. “There’s definitely no need to be concerned about me.” 

“I’m sure you’re wrong.” The lie is more readily accessible this morning than it was last night. “Go. You’ve been preparing for this for weeks.”

“I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you, too.”

Then he bends and kisses me, and it’s not the quick goodbye peck I was bracing myself for. It’s deep, exhaustive, like a last call of breath—his lips pressing against mine with an urgency that tugs at my heart. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer and I kiss him with all I’ve got, wishing this could be an eternity.

“Call me if you need anything,” he murmurs against my lips. "Anything at all – I’ll get it for you."

He kisses me once again—fast and forcefully—then it’s with great reluctance that he pulls away. "I’ll be home at six."

"Drive safe.”

He grabs his briefcase from the hall table, shoots me one final worried look, and then leaves. I stand in the doorway and watch him get into his car. Through the windshield, he pauses and looks back at me, I smile and wave.

The engine roars to life and he backs out of the drive. I watch until his car rounds the corner and until the noise of the engine disappears.
Then I close the door.

The silence afterwards is deafening.

I lean back against the door, close my eyes and breathe in deeply. The house is just too big, too hollow, all of a sudden. Without Leo, nothing can distract me from the worry that’s eating me alive.

I push off the door and head toward the kitchen. My phone is on the counter, where I left it last night, screen down as if I was trying to hide from it. Long moment i stare at it!

I should call back. I'll sort it out, face it, that's the last of it so I can tell Leo what the deal is and stop fibbing to him. 

I stretch my hand for the phone and hovered right above it. My fingers are trembling slightly.
Just pick it up. Turn it over. Call back that number.

I’m just about to take it when it rings.

The sudden noise causes me to jump and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. The phone buzzes on the counter, shaking with the incoming call, and I look at it as if it was a snake ready to attack.

Unknown number.

The same unknown number from yesterday.
For a moment, I am simply standing there, frozen, looking at it ringing. One. Twice. Three times.
Pick it up. Just answer it and have this over with.

My hand has a mind of its own now as I dial it, swipe to answer the phone before I can talk myself out of it.

“Hello?” My voice is more steady than how I feel.
There is a pause on the other end—a silence so long it seems eternal.

Then: “Lisa. ”

My blood runs cold. Again.

That voice. I know that voice.
No. It cannot be. It can't be him.

“Lisa, it’s Andre.”

I can't think. Can't believe what I'm hearing.

Andre, my ex-husband.

The man I left three years ago. The man I’ve labored for three years to forget, to heal from, to erase from my mind completely.

And he’s on my phone. Right now. Like no time has elapsed at all, he’s calling me. 

“This is unexpected,” he says, and his voice is exactly how I remember—smooth, controlled, with that touch of warmth that used to make me feel safe and now only makes me feel ill. “And I bet you don’t want to talk to me—”

“What do you want?” I say sharply before I mean to.

He pauses. “I want to talk to you.”

“We’re coal-tarring.”

“Well, I mean... face-to-face. Lisa, I have to see you.”

A bitter unamused laugh escapes me. “You need to see me,”

“Yes.”

“After all this silence, you want me all of a sudden?”

“Lisa, please—”

“No.” My hand tightens around the phone, fury welling up inside me, replacing the disbelief. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to call me out of the blue and ask me for anything.”

“I know I have no right—”

“Do you know the way you treated me? What I had to do to move on from you? From us?”

“I do. And I’m sorry—”

“Don’t. ” The word lashes out, cutting. 
“Don’t apologise. Too late for apology, three years too late.”

There’s silence on the other end, and I can hear him breathing, can almost see him standing wherever he is, that crease between his brows. 

Good. Make him uncomfortable. Let him know a little of what I know.

"Lisa," he says at last, and his voice has changed again now—there's something raw in it, almost desperation. "Please. I am begging you." Just ... give me an hour. An hour to talk to you, in person. That's all I'm demanding.”

"Why?" The question comes from my mouth. "Why now, after all this time?"

"There is an important thing..."

"I don't want to know anything from you. I'll just have to get over it."

"Please." His voice is just breaking, and I hate that I have noticed that hate that some part of me still feels for him. "Please, Lisa. One hour. And then I'll never contact you again. Do me this one favor, though." I swear. Just ...Please."

I shut my eyes, placing my other hand over the counter to support myself.

This is insane. I should hang up right now. I'm going to block this number and pretended this call never happened. I should-almost think-I should protect myself, and the life I've made with Leo.

"Fine," I say, my voice having a life of its own and I immediately want to change those words. "One hour."

"Thank you. God, Lisa, thank you–"

"Don't thank me," I cut him off. "Tell me the time and the place."

"Whenever you want. Wherever you want. I'm happy to adjust your plans--"

"Tomorrow," I say, cutting him off. "Two o’clock."

"Okay. Tomorrow at two. Where?" 

I’m thinking fast, trying to remember somewhere public—somewhere neutral. Somewhere that has no recollections of our marriage, of the life we once shared.

"There’s a cafe called Brewster’s," I say. “Down on Maple Street. You know it?”

"I'll get it.There is a blue awning. It’s impossible to miss.Brewster's on Maple Street. Blue awning. I’ll be there."

“Two o’clock,” I say again. Don’t be late.”
I will not. Lisa I…Have you ever been in this situation?”

"Don't." I can't hear what he was saying or going to say. I’m sick of this conversation. "Brewster's Coffee Shop on Maple Street – Tomorrow at 2."

I hang up before he can say anything.

The telephone slips from my hand onto the countertop with a loud bang, and I look at it as if it were some sort of poison.

What did I just do?

My legs give way and I drop into the closest chair, and my hands are trembling. Andre. My ex-husband rang me up. And I consented to meet him.

I bury my head in my hands, holding back tears.
I should call Leo. Should tell him what just happened. He needs to know. But I just can't make myself call her again. I can't deal with the conversation that would go with it. I can't say why my ex-husband has now come back into my life after three years of blissful silence.

Not yet. 

Tomorrow at two, I'll have my answers.

But for the moment, all I can do is sit in my kitchen and hold myself together.

Don’t think about the look on Leo’s face when I have to tell him, eventually. Try not to ask yourself if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.