The Heart Wants What It Wants

Diana managed to drag herself up the stairs – the elevator wasn’t working, it hadn’t worked in about a decade – and leaned against the door, barely any energy left to knock, her eyes so swollen from the crying that she could barely see.

The door opened.

“Di!”

“Alex,” sobbed Diana, and she collapsed into Alex’s arms, to be held, safe, finally.

“Oh, honey. What happened? What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything, but he doesn’t love me. That’s all. He doesn’t love me, Alex.”

Diana lost what modicum of control she had left, and she cried, her heart broken, her soul shattered. She cried as her best friend held her, and tried to soothe her.

She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, and out of sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

She had nothing left. She’d given everything she had to George, and he had thrown it all away. She had nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

What utter idiocy!

This was what he got for dating a woman who was sixteen years younger than she was. Sure, there were perks. It was fun to show her the world. It was exhilarating to see her eyes open in wonder and take in everything that was so new to her.

But of course, there had to be drama.

Love! And probably marriage and family, too. None of it meant anything to him, not anymore. He had family. He had Estelle and her kids. That was all the family he needed.

He had tried marriage, and he had been betrayed. Tracy – well, she had betrayed him, in every way. She had betrayed his company, his legacy, and cheated on him with her competitor, giving him confidential information, to boot. Of course, she had cried and apologized and begged him to forgive her, told him that it was all because she couldn’t bear how he didn’t love her.

But there was no excuse for betrayal, and he did not plan to repeat his mistakes. He would not get married again. As for a family – more weapons that could be used against him. Caring that much was a mistake. He would not make that mistake.

He had seen and recognized that weakness in others. He had no intention of letting that weakness become a part of him.

So she had left.

Big deal. He didn’t need her.

Besides, she would come back. He would give her a week to cool off – a week seemed long enough to him – and of course, she could come to her senses and come back to him. That was the only ending that made sense. That was what would happen.

If she thought that he was going to chase after her, then she would find that she was sadly and sorely mistaken. He did not chase after people. People chased after him.

Even women.

So he let go, and he waited, confident that she would be back with him soon enough.

But then, he started getting the registered mail, sent to his home – the packages.

All the things he had bought her, packed neatly and securely, each with a checklist, ticking off what had been sent already and what hadn’t.

She was sending everything back. The clothes – what the hell did she think he was going to do with the clothes? Wear them? Return them?

The jewelry. She sent back all the jewelry.

It was the day he got that carrot pendant – a silly little thing he had seen and been reminded of her, not something he had commissioned, but the beginning of everything – that he broke a little bit.

She wasn’t coming back.

He saw her, as he had seen her first, that day at the conference. She’d been apologizing to the damn donuts and telling the carrot cake that it was practically a salad, and she could eat it.

It had charmed him. She had stood out, radiant in her beauty, and she had talked to dessert because she’d thought that nobody would notice. That day, he had seen her savor and enjoy food like it was one of life’s greatest pleasure, and he had decided that he would savor her that way. He would show her what it was like to be appreciated that way.

And he had, hadn’t he?

He had given her everything. It wasn’t just the gifts. He had given her his time, his attention, new experiences that she wouldn’t have had without him.

Why hadn’t that been enough?

He held on for a couple more days before cracking, and trying to call her.

Her number was blocked. He tried again. But there was no response. He tried from an unregistered number, and there was still nothing.

Swallowing his pride, telling himself it was ridiculous, he tried emailing her. There was no response. It bounced.

Had she – where was she?

For a wild moment, he wondered if he should hire a private investigator. Had she gone? Had she left?

The idea of her not being there, not being where he could reach her – that was unbearable.

It was almost in a panic that he went to her apartment. He ran up the stairs, banged on the door, and there was no answer. He called her name, again and again, and there was no answer.

She wasn’t there.

“She’s not home, you asshole! Go make a racket somewhere else, I’ve got a baby I’m trying to get to sleep!”

The irate neighbor glared at him, a screaming baby in her arms.

“Where is she?”

“How the hell would I know? I’m not her keeper. She hasn’t been there for a few days. I have no idea where she is.”

By then, he was in a panic.

What had happened to her? If something had happened to her, he would have known, wouldn’t he? He would have known in his heart if something had happened to her.

He needed to know. He could call the cops, have them check—

Her friend.

Her friend, Alex.

She would know.

He checked the time, and saw that it was lunch. He knew where Alex usually had lunch. Diana had talked about it. They met there for lunch whenever Diana could get away. He could…

He wasn’t even really aware of when his legs started moving, but he was already back in his car, and he was driving off to find Alex.

If he couldn’t get anything out of Alex, the only option left would be to go to her workplace. He knew how she would hate that. He didn’t want to do that. But if he had to, he would.