Day and Night Ch. 06

Two words. "Fuck. You," Beth seethed, smile slipping. "When they call back, tell them those exact words. Tell them that if they keep pushing, I won't be the one falling over the edge."

With that, she spun and strode over to Brian. "One minute away," he chirped, showing her the phone.

"Great job, hun," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go down to the street and wait for it."

***

Day stretched in his seat, neck cracking. Today had been a shitshow of biblical proportions. The kind of day that made him question every single life choice he ever made along with his sanity.

Because of Beth.

Because of a woman.

Slapping closed his laptop, Day snatched up his phone, wallet, and keys, refusing to take a single page of work home. He'd made that deal with Shontell years ago that work stayed at work because it had no place in the home. Come hell or high water, he was keeping that promise.

Even if Helen of fucking Troy was in his home, fucking up his carefully currated life in all kinds of ways. He'd be a fool to say that he didn't consider walking away from her. The bullheaded commitment he'd clung onto in the morning had faded with one business associate after another pulling out. It hurt. But that was the point.

They'd made it painfully clear why they were leaving: he was Paris, fucking up his entire world just to keep Helen.

Day wondered if Paris had even given a shit as Troy burned down.

He currently wasn't.

What was money if it couldn't even help him keep the people he loved the most happy, safe, and healthy? All his wealth hadn't stopped Shontells cancer. All his influence didn't stop Brian from getting bullied at elitist school after elitist school—schools that were supposed to cater to the rich, get their kids into the best colleges, on the right track. As long as they were white or foreign or both. Russian oligarchs' kids had it stupid easy.

So who fucking cared if he lost a few clients, got some threats, or needed to dip into his very large personal nest egg? For the first time in a long time, he was excited to go home, see his kid, see his—Beth.

"Heading out?" Stephanie called from the doorway, looking haggard.

Day had the good grace of feeling guilty. For all the bullshit calls that got to his desk, she'd taken twenty times as many. "Sorry about today."

She sighed, coming into the room and leaning her hands against one of the guest chair backs. "Is this going to be the new normal?"

"Probably for a while."

"Because of that white woman."

"Yes."

Stephanie shook her head. "Never thought you'd be the one, Day."

"It ain't even like that," he growled, knowing where she was going with this.

"So what? Y'all gonna play house?" she sucked her teeth, staring daggers. "You better get this jungle fever outcha head, Davon."

"Don't threaten me, Stephanie."

"Don't make me threaten you!" she yelled, throwing her hands up. "What? You think this is what Shontell—"

"KEEP HER NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!" he roared.

She shut up, hand going to clutch at her neck as if he'd gone for it. Maybe I did.

Body shaking, voice quiet, she said, "Look what she got you doing."

"Not her. You," Day gritted, snatching up his coat. "Don't bring Shontell into this like you know her. She was my wife. I lost her. And if she was alive we wouldn't even be having this talk. But she's not. And for the first time in months, I feel like going home because she is there."

He sighed loudly, pausing at the door. "You don't have to like it, but can't you let me be happy for a goddamn minute?"

Day didn't wait for her response. He avoided the elevator and took the stairs down thirty-two flights. Getting in his car, he pulled out of the underground parking garage, too keyed up to go home. Like this, he would get in a fight, Day knew. So he went to the only place that wouldn't talk back, wouldn't do or say nothing while he put his head on straight.

The drive was short. He wouldn't have been able to have her far from him.

It was a small, quiet, well-kept cemetery not so much exclusive as choosy. Family owned and run, the tradition of meeting the "guests" they came to stay with them permanently is what had pulled Shontell here in the first place.

Day pulled up to the gate, typing in his code and waiting for the doors to open. Pulling over to the parking lot, he cut the engine and stepped out of the car. He knew the path by heart now, fingers dug deep into his slacks as he trudged through the cemetery to her grave. When he got there, he practically collapsed against her headstone. Legs pulled up, arms over his knees, he bent his head and took a few steadying breaths.

Even in death, Shontell still calmed him, steadying him. "Wasn't supposed to be this way," Day mumbled, eyes closed. "None of this would even be happening if you were still here."

Silence greeted him. It always did.

He'd never been one to see Shontell in the rain, wind or snow. She wouldn't have been there anyway. She was too practical for that. For as much as she believed death was transition, whether to Heaven or somewhere else, she also knew she was too headstrong for haunting or sending messages from beyond. Stupid, she'd once said from the hospital bed, any message I send you will be clear as ice. None of this interpretation bullshit. You'll know it's me.

The chill from the earth seeped into the seat of his slacks, through his back and into muscle the longer he sat. It felt like he could turn to stone.

"Is this what you wanted for me?" Day asked after a long time.

Silence.

"She makes me happy." His voice broke on the last word. Sighing deeply, Day scrubbed an arm across his face. "I don't know what you wanted for me."

The silence was suffocating, a physical presence pushing at him until a shrill ring cut through it like an ax through wood. Startled, Day snatched up his phone, putting it to his ear. "West."

A pause. "I'm guessing you didn't look at the Caller ID," Beth said hesitantly, a touch of humor in her voice.

Just that made him smile. "Nah. Were you expecting me to answer in a different way?"

"With that telephone sex operator voice you have?" she chuckled. "Not at all."

"What can I do for you, Beth?" Day purred.

Her laugh was infectious, making a smile break across his face. "Tell me when you're coming home."

Home. She made it that.

"Soon."

She hummed. "I fed Brian. Put him to bed."

Day climbed to his feet, brushing off his pants and starting the trek back to his car. Her didn't look back at Shontell's grave—couldn't. "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Been looking up other school options for him."

Day paused. "Why's that?"

"I don't like the school."

"And?"

"It's not the right place for him."

"Because?"

She sighed heavily. "You're with me."

He assumed as much. He'd gotten several similar responses as the day wore on. All varying degrees of his Paris to her Helen and the burning of Troy everyone was so quick to pick up a torch and join.

"I see."

Climbing in the car, he connected the call to the vehicle's speakers, waiting for Beth to continue. When she didn't he asked, "Still there?"

"Thinking."

He let her.

"Why didn't you tell me you were rich?" she finally asked, and he heard the telltale sign of running water and the clank of dishes. He wondered if she cleaned when she was stressed.

"Didn't come up."

"It's one of those things people bring up," she snapped.

"Because you were so forthcoming Ms. Fiancé."

The water ran but the dishes stilled. "It's not the same."

He sighed, navigating out of the cemetery and toward his apartment. "It's not like I was keeping it a secret."

"Your surroundings tell me differently."

"That's my home. First one Shontell and I bought. I couldn't—" he slapped the steering wheel, frustrated— "It's my home," he finished softly.

Silverware clinked in the background. "It's your home."

"Our home," he amended, needing to give her that.

She hummed, not saying anything for a long minute, then, "I'll see you soon."

She hung up. Fuck.