R. Lilley - Lovely Trigger

“The guilt isn’t what I was talking about,” he said, his lying voice so convincing that I almost believed it. “It’s you I think about. Always you.”

I snorted. “Please! You stopped trying to call me years ago. I haven’t heard a word from you since right after rehab when you went on your repentance tour.”

He looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly enough, spouting more nonsense. “I didn’t trust myself, Danika. I needed my sobriety. I’m nothing without it, and you were a lovely trigger for me. That look in your eyes, after all that I’d done…The way you looked at me like I was scum and knowing that I deserved all of your antipathy. I knew that if you looked at me like that again, I’d hit rock bottom, and this time I wouldn’t come back from it.”

“I’m with someone, Tristan,” I told him, my tone hard with resolve.

“And if you weren’t? Would you be willing to talk to me—to spend time with me, if you weren’t with someone?”

I snapped. “ No ! Bad things happen when we get together, Tristan. You and I are nothing but trouble. Time hasn’t changed that. Please, just stay away from me.”

He moved to me, quick as a flash, his hands cupping my shoulders. “Danika, I’m so sorry. I’ll never stop missing you. You were my best friend. Can you ever forgive me for what I did?”

My trembling hands reached up and pulled his from me. “I forgave you a long time ago, Tristan,” I asserted, even as I took a step back, out of touching distance. “But I will never forget. Please keep your distance.” I practically ran out the door.

I made a point of seeking out Bianca soon after, since I knew she’d overheard our confrontation in the bathroom. I cared what she thought, and I didn’t want to come across like a royal bitch, so I felt I owed her an explanation.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that little exchange in the bathroom,” I told her solemnly.

She looked uncomfortable but her eyes were sympathetic. “I am so sorry about that.”

I waved that off. “It was hardly your fault. You were just using the restroom. But I saw your shoes under the stall, and I wanted to explain myself. I probably sounded like a cold bitch.”

She held her hand up. “You didn’t. I understand completely. Sometimes protecting your heart is the only way to keep your sanity.”

She’d hit that one on the head. I nodded. “Yes, exactly. I won’t get mixed up with him again, and I refuse to lead him on. When I was younger and stupid, I thought that he was the most wonderful and exciting thing in the world. I fell crazy, stupid, jump off a cliff in love with him. It was like being in love with a tornado. It took me years to pick up all of the pieces he’d left me in, but I did it, and I won’t go back. These days I want stability in my life. I need it.”

She nodded. I patted her on the shoulder, and walked away, satisfied that she understood.

I was literally forced to deal with Tristan again at the end of the evening, as he purchased two of Bianca’s paintings. Unbelievably, and infuriatingly, one of them was the small still-life I’d become obsessed with.

“You have great taste,” I told him as I entered his data into the system. I had other people to do this, but I always handled the really big ticket items myself. It made me nervous to let anyone else do it. My control issues were in full swing.

“I always have.”

I made sure he saw me roll my eyes. He grinned at me as though I’d just given him a present, which hadn’t been my intent.

“Listen, I’m sorry I came on too strong earlier, but I really think it’s time we start to talk again.”

“I told you, I’m with someone.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about us hanging out again. Just as friends. You live in Vegas again; we work in the same building. It would be ridiculous if we didn’t go out for coffee every once in a while. Catch up a bit. That’s all.”

I had to work to keep from losing my temper. “You want to catch up? You want to hear how many hours I spent in physical therapy after our breakup?” He visibly winced, but I kept going. “What else would you like to catch up on, exactly? What about Milton having a girlfriend, that you had to know about, but who you didn’t bother to mention when you gave me that crazy warning to stay away from him?”

“Hey now, I had no idea he had a girlfriend—“

“It doesn’t matter.” Though I did feel a tiny stab of relief that he hadn’t known either, and I couldn’t even have said why. “What matters is that the only things we have to catch up on are things I have no desire in the world to talk about. Not ever again. And certainly not with you. Your paintings will arrive at your house within the next few days, following the verification of your credit card, etcetera. Have a good night, Tristan.” I strode away before I said anything else I’d regret later.

When it came to Tristan and I, there were never any winners to be had.

TRISTAN

I went to bed that night angry and upset. So agitated that, even at rest, my heart was pounding hard.

I tossed and turned for hours before I fell into a restless sleep.

I was having my morning coffee when I felt something strange move in my chest.

It felt good, but foreign, and it took me a long time to place it.

What was this feeling? I had to think for a long time to figure it out, but I grasped it after a time.

A freak streak of optimism had just entered my body.

Hope. I felt the tiniest stirring of hope. But why? She’d been as vehement as ever. She didn’t want anything to do with me. Nothing had changed. But my mind had this one little thing to focus on, this smallest of contact, and so I hadn’t forgotten even one detail.

On the contrary, I’d been memorizing every second of that brief confrontation.

Every last twitch.

Every time she’d blinked, or licked her lips, or swallowed with nervousness.

She’d done such a good job of showing me nothing but indifference for the last few years, I’d had no choice but to believe that was how she genuinely felt, and I’d just fucking bought it, giving her the space she needed.

She deserved that much. She deserved so much more than I could ever give her, because I’d taken so much from her, and so I’d left her in peace.

But something about last night, perhaps it was the way her hands trembled when she pushed mine away, or the fact that she’d shown me her rare temper with just the slightest bit of prodding.

And the bit where she’d said, “Please! You stopped trying to call me years ago. I haven’t heard a word from you since right after rehab when you went on your repentance tour.” That bit fascinated me. Had she wanted me to call her? Or was I just reading what I wanted into it?

Whatever it was, something had changed and important pieces of my life were shifting into place.

I knew what I needed to do.

DANIKA

It was a normal, chaotic day at the Vegas gallery. I was still settling in as I brought it under my own management. It was a challenge, but I enjoyed challenges, even ones that made me lose sleep, so I was exhilarated by it more than anything else.

I knew who she was the instant she set foot onto the marble floor of my gallery. Whether I liked it or not, Tristan’s love life was hot news, and I was kept up to date on every little detail, thanks to the two gossip-loving ladies that worked with me.

Mona Biello was a statuesque blonde with ridiculously exaggerated curves. The blonde was out of a bottle, and at least half of those curves were added on by a doctor, but who was keeping track?