It was six months later, and everyone was hanging out at the Jolly Roger before I left for LA. My former band had lost their lead singer recently (drug overdose), and they had called to see if I was interested. Given everything that had happened, it wasn't too difficult for them to convince me to go fill in.
Life was weird like that. One moment, you're losing yourself in your rum, the next you were back in your old game. I figured at the very least, there would be plenty of booze and women to numb my pain.
David and Mary Margaret were having fun nesting in their apartment, but we didn't see much of each other anymore. Graham and Ruby had moved in together, too, leaving me the odd-man-out. I needed a change, a drastic change, so LA was a welcome respite.
"Have you heard from Emma at all?" Mary Margaret asked as she sidled up next to me at the bar.
"Not a peep," I said.
"She sent me an email last week. It seems she's doing really well, but I don't know…" she sounded worried about her. "She never calls anymore, just writes or texts. I wish she'd come home. I told her you were heading out to LA…" she dwindled off. "Maybe you guys could get together some time out there?"
She pressed an envelope into my hand kissed me on the cheek. I just nodded and finished my drink, wishing I could leave. It was another hour before I felt I could bail without too many recriminations. I had an afternoon flight, but I still had some things to pack. There were hugs all around along with promises to keep in touch. I knew we wouldn't. It just hurt too much. Finding a family and then losing it like that was just painful. I wanted to just move on.
When I got home, I opened the envelope. It was an eight by ten of Emma and me from the wedding. Her hand was wrapped around my neck, and she was looking up at me as I held her. Her face was bathed in light, shining with happiness. I buried it in the bottom of a box.
My life was filled with work and little else. I got up, went to work, went home, went to bed alone. My nights were filled with dreams of Killian and our last nights together. I felt like a fool, but there was nothing left to do. Mary Margaret had told me he'd gone back to the band, moved to LA. I had hoped maybe he'd call me when he made it to the coast, but I had sufficiently dampened his feelings.
Mary Margaret continued to email, as did Ruby. They had stopped calling eventually, realizing I didn't want to "talk." I could write and keep it all hidden. I could be good and not ask about him, make it easier to forget he existed. I didn't want to know. I wanted to move on, despite being anchored to the horrible pain in my heart. I had royally fucked up.
We ended up back in New York after a couple of years in LA. I ran into Neal and Milah at a gig on the Upper West Side once. It wasn't too awkward. They seemed happy. Milah was working as a receptionist for a publisher, and Neal was working construction out on Long Island. They lived in Brooklyn. We had a couple of beers after the show, and Milah hugged me before they left.
"You should have gone after her," she whispered in my ear, smiling at me as she pulled back. I raised my eyebrow at her. "You were in love with her from the moment you met her, Killian. That's why I ended up with Neal. He didn't have a clue, but I know you too well. Go after her." She squeezed my shoulder and walked out the door behind Neal.
Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. I had royally fucked up.