CHAPTER 35
I DON'T WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH LAUREN
Sunday morning – universally a time for snuggling under the warm covers, being lazy until late, maybe fooling around with a partner, making plans for brunch and also, living your best life.
Well, not for everybody.
"Bonjour." For the first time, Emily Prentiss found the strength to give a proper morning salute to someone.
To someone?
She opened her eyes rubbing them a few times, so she could get a more clear view of the other side of the bed.
"Richard?" She called out, realizing that she hadn't greeted someone.
She had greeted no one.
"Où es-tu?" To her question where he was, he did not reply.
Simply because he was not there.
She rubbed her eyes one more time, stretching her hands out, making sure she was awake.
Or alive.
While stretching, her hand felt something with edges, on top of Richard's pillow.
Her heart sunk to her feet.
She had seen enough movies to know what that meant.
Refusing to believe this was happening to her, she hesitantly picked the thing up and pulled it closer to her face.
A piece of paper – branded hotel paper, so the profiler in her excluded premeditation of this vicious act; folded neatly in two, in two perfectly equal pieces, fitting perfectly on top of each other, becoming one. God knows what that metaphor reminded her of.
Her breathing suddenly became a little less controlled, a little more harsh.
A little bit hectic.
A lot harder to handle.
Quite impossible to survive.
Emily was freaking out, experiencing new scares, feelings that she had never experienced before.
Emily Prentiss was a creature of habit. She had a schedule and she would always stick to it. The only unexpected things she ever enjoyed in life were surprise birthday parties or last-minute get-togethers with her friends. That was it. That was all the surprises she liked in life. Anything else, that was out of the ordinary, she hated with the passion of a thousand burning hearts.
Lauren Reynolds was the one who was good at surprises. Her lifeline was a big surprise, itself. Everything she did, everything she had to handle, was a huge surprise that would slap her across the face at any given time. And Lauren would handle herself like a pro – she would stay calm and collected, she would have the balls to stand up to this surprise, to overcome those new negative feelings and to just handle things, like a boss lady.
Too bad Lauren was practically gone, leaving a confused Emily to handle everything on her own.
It took her more than a minute to study the paper. It was white and blank on the outside and she could only hope it would be blank on the inside too.
It wasn't.
"Henry, roll!" Garcia said cheerfully.
They were now back at JJ's house, after spending the afternoon in search of the best ice-cream place in town.
"Garcia, he's not a dog." JJ laughed, loving the way Garcia played with her kids, but also, not always understanding their games.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Garcia said awkwardly, but then saw Henry rolling happily on the rug in the living room.
"See? He likes it!" She added triumphantly. "Here, I'll give you a treat." She pulled an individually wrapped cookie from her Mary Poppins bag and handed it to the child.
"Still, not a dog, Garcia!" JJ rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh.
"JJ?" Will called out from the kid's room, having trouble putting little Mikey to bed.
"Excuse me." She said to Garcia and prayed to God she wouldn't find her, half an hour later, teaching Henry how to bark or walk on four feet.
Will left JJ with Mikey, under the pretense that he had requested that his mommy would read him a bedtime story.
But Will was a detective. A good one, at that.
He had a strategy.
Once he joined Garcia and Henry downstairs, he sat down and started to play with them, making small talk with Garcia until…there it was.
"So, how's JJ been at work lately?" He asked, super casually.
But Garcia was smarter.
"What's on your mind?" She hit him back with a question. "I've been spending the majority of my time around profilers. I can tell by now when someone is fishing for information. So, what's wrong? Spill it."
Will rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe this blew up in his face.
"She's been a bit…absent-minded lately. Like, she wouldn't enjoy doing the things she loved doing before. She's only ever genuine around the kids and when they are not around, she's just quiet and distant. Which makes me wonder – is she even genuine with them? Or is she putting up a show, to not make them suspicious about anything? Or is it a show for me?" He spoke quietly, because he knew JJ, after two kids, had the abnormal ability to hear anything, from any distance.
Garcia thought for a moment. She knew exactly when JJ had changed and she knew exactly why she had changed. And that was…classified.
"I can't say much…" Garcia started off.
"Of course, I get that. I already figured out it has to do with a case. It started like a month or so ago. And it must have to do with Prentiss, because the mere mention of her always puts JJ in a bad mood. I mean, it was obvious to everyone, what happened at Rossi's barbeque…" He trailed off, knowing that everybody at the table was faking ignorance, yet, every single one of them knew that JJ had just had a major meltdown in the bathroom.
"Well, I can only say you are right about your assumptions. But I can't say anything more. Mainly because I don't know anything more." She shrugged.
Henry was now in the kitchen, heating himself a glass of milk and stealing a few oreos since nobody was paying attention to him and he thought he could get away with that.
"I'm worried about her. She hasn't been eating much, she speaks less than usual and she has that scary blank stare, like she is looking at you, but she is not even present at that moment. And I know how much pressure the job comes with. I just want to know whether I should get help for her, or maybe do something to help her myself?" He suggested.
"No, no. Getting help would be way out of line, even if you are her husband." There was so much truth to Garcia's words. "I guess the only thing you could do is to be there for her. Maybe try to talk to her more? Do things with her, take her out. I'll be happy to babysit for the kids if you two want to spend some time alone."
"I tried getting her out of the house, but each time she found a different excuse and shut me down." He shrugged.
"I just hope things will go back to normal from tomorrow." Garcia fixed the pillow from behind her, as if the sofa was the source of her discomfort.
"Oh yeah, Prentiss is coming back tomorrow." He stated, remembering that their mandatory week off was now done.
"Presumably…" Garcia muttered to herself, already planning on ways to track Emily down and go slap her, in case she didn't come back.
"Uh, Mikey's asleep." JJ stood by the door, awkwardly trying to butt in the conversation.
Neither JJ nor Will knew exactly how long she had been standing there for.
The moment Emily saw words, written on the inside of the paper, tears started rolling down her cheeks. Big, salty tears. Heavy tears. Sincere tears.
Hi…
I don't know how to do this…
I just know that I have to do this…
I spent seven days with you – seven days of Heaven…and seven days of Hell.
This was never how it was supposed to happen…
I never meant to find myself writing on this piece of paper, at night, while watching you sleep.
And God, you look so peaceful and beautiful when you sleep.
I can hear your breathing.
I can see your chest rising up as you breathe in.
I can see that tiny smile on your lips right now…
Your hand just extended to my side of the bed.
But I'm not there.
I cannot be there…
Although, I want to be there. Tonight. And every night after it.
It is just not fair to you.
Like it is not fair to me, knowing that in the morning, all of this would be over.
Us.
Whatever that is.
Over!
I tried to fall asleep, I did.
I failed at it.
I just couldn't find enough peace to close my eyes and shut my mind.
There was this constant reminder that you will be gone.
And I didn't know when.
In the morning?
After lunch?
Before dinner?
After you made me fall even harder for you?
Before or after you would break my heart?
I know I'm being selfish.
I spent the last two hours, thinking of ways to put my thoughts into words.
I don't know how to explain to you what I feel…
The one thing I'm sure of is that I refuse to live another day with that overwhelming fear that, if I lose you out of sight for just a second, you might be gone.
I hate that thought.
You are good at leaving. You've always been perfectly honest about that.
But I'm very bad at letting people leave. I guess I never told you that.
My bad.
Je suis désolé, ma petite chérie.
I could only hope that you, being left, would hurt a little less than me, having to leave you.
I know I'm never going to see your face again.
I'm never going to touch you again.
I'm never kissing those lips again.
I'm never going to hear your voice and all those silly things you say, ever again.
I thought I would be okay with that.
I knew this whole fantasy had an expiry date.
But the closer we came to it, the harder I found it to come to terms with what would happen next.
I'm an egoist.
But so are you.
I want you to hate me.
I want you to think back of this week and have all the regrets in the world…
Because the other option would be being stuck with the overwhelming desire for it to have been real.
And, trust me, that sucks.
I'm sorry…
I don't want to fall in love with Lauren Reynolds!
Richard, comme le patisserie
On the bottom right corner, she found a few numbers, scribbled in a hurry, with hesitation marks left from the pen, as if the person who wrote them was doubting whether to do so or not. The rest of the letter was written with precision, in a beautiful cursive, one that she would have never guessed belonged to a man.
She was, by the end of the letter, panting. Unable to breathe.
Emily had never felt a pain like this before.
Her head tilted back, hitting the headboard hard, but that kind of pain did not even get registered by her neurons. Her heart was the one suffering the actual pain and it was more than she could handle.
As harsh as this first read was, she knew that he didn't mean any harm. And yet, he had caused her so much pain.
She licked her lips, suddenly feeling them dry and aching. The taste of him was still there. But he was not.
And then she noticed another piece of paper, on the bedside table, on Richard's side of the bed. She grabbed it and it was a ticket back to America. Well, at least he didn't leave her to fend for herself, like he had left this other woman he had told her about.
And yet, she hated him.
Then again.
She did not.
