Page 167 of The Finish Line
In the last few weeks, we’ve settled into a routine, taking long walks on the beach, visiting our new town, eating seaside, introducing ourselves to our new life. What I thought would be the hardest part of all of the adjustment was truly unplugging from the life we’ve lived since we left Virginia. A life where we’d been fully immersed in the brotherhood, making calculated moves and setting into motion dozens of Tobias’s schemes. I’ll never fully understand the way he’d constructed it all, but that’s some of the mystery of his genius.
And after doing years of grunt work and stepping back, I can clearly see the bigger picture; each note he chose to compose the most mind-boggling symphony. I married a king and a legend and all he sees in his reflection is a flawed man.
He slept for days when he got home. It was as if he finally felt relief enough to grant his body and mind the reprieve. There’s a peace inside him now, in his fiery eyes, and honestly, I never thought it would come, not so soon anyway. I feel the same contentment, knowing that for the most part, he’s winning his battle with the guilt that’s plagued him for years. This morning was another turning point. I woke to the sight of him naked, tangled in white cotton, his eyes roaming my face, my body with urgent need as I roused, facing him on my pillow.
“Puis-je demander une faveur de plus?” Can I ask for one more favor?
“What is it you want now, my needy Frenchman?”
“Un autre trésor.” Another treasure.
Taken completely aback, I burst out an incredulous laugh. “We got married five minutes ago, and you already want a baby? Want to try a little marriage first?”
“Non,” he says softly, pinning my wrists and settling between my legs, his eyes dropping down to my breasts and beyond, before bringing them back up to mine.
“I’m still on birth control.”
He dips and kisses me. “Stop taking it.”
“You’re serious?”
He gives me the dip of his chin, his eyes filled with hope. “Tu apprendras à notre bébé à aimer comme toi.” You will teach our baby to love like you do.
“You love just as fiercely, Tobias.”
When I lifted and kissed the crease of worry between his brow, our discussion ended with a little baby-making practice. Minutes after he spilled himself inside me, I joined him in the bathroom while he showered, his eyes searching mine when I opened my vanity drawer, took out my birth control, and tossed it into the trash. The light in his eyes, the joyful upturn of his lips, and the look we shared in those seconds is one I will never, ever forget. No part of me thinks we’re rushing into anything. We’ve put our life together on hold long enough, but a ticking clock is no threat to us, not anymore. We’ve accomplished so much, come so far—now is a time of celebration, and that’s exactly what we’ll do.
And now, as I unpack our things in a palace I never imagined I would reside in, a place so far removed from the one-bedroom apartment I shared with my mother in Georgia, I can’t help but be grateful for the road that took us here, to this point. A point of appreciation that’s only been made sweeter because of the nature of the road we traveled. When Delphine died, Tobias had packed up her house alone, carefully preserving the belongings of three lives, two of which had ended far too soon. I can’t at all imagine that, and the fact that he’s gone through so many hardships by himself, trying to be strong for those around him while never really having any one constant of his own. From the looks and weight of the boxes, it seems he couldn’t bring himself to throw a single thing out.
Opening a cigar box, I sort through pictures and fixate on the image of a young Delphine and a man who I assume was her husband. They’re in the backseat of a car, Delphine sitting across his lap as they gaze at each other with smiles, undeniably in love.
It’s a visual of the love that broke her, and I can only be grateful I didn’t suffer the same fate.
I came so close.
I know most of her story, but not the details, and it saddens me she cut her life, and herself, off from possibilities when he left her. I’ll always have mixed feelings about her, about the role she played in my life and the threat she was to me. But I also identify with her in a way because of the loyalty of her heart. If I hadn’t pulled myself together, I might have turned out just like her, letting lost love ruin me to the point of no return. She’d lived as a casualty of love, and her path is proof that even the strongest of women can fall victim to its destruction. Thankful for the time she had with Tyler, for the healing it brought both of them, I place the photos back into the box to keep them away from prying eyes. Lifting the lid on a Nike shoebox, I falter when I see the matchbox car sitting on top of a stack of folded drawings. Lifting the car to my line of sight, my heart begins to bleed.
“I know what I’m holding. I know her worth.”
It’s an echo, this part of my heartbeat that thrums in my chest, an echo of a life I lived long ago and a man I loved whom I spent my rainy days with. My love for him is still so distinguishable, and for that I’m grateful. Tobias told me years ago in Virginia, that he was happy I was the woman to love him, and I can’t help but to feel privileged because of it, as selfish as it may be. Running a finger over the hood, I reminisce about the star-filled nights we spent exchanging whispers and refusing to acknowledge the guilt those memories evoked. I can’t forget my second love, and I never want to. I still carry him with me—through time.
“His favorite,” Tobias says softly, speaking up from behind me. Turning, I see him standing in the frame of the doorway, his eyes fixed on the car in my hand. “Even when he was little, he knew what he wanted. It was like he saw his future. Looking back now, as far as I can remember, as crazy as it may seem, I believe he did.”
“I believe it, too,” I say, staring down at the car. “There was something about him that was so... it’s indescribable.”
He joins me, glancing down at the shoebox, and I can feel the sight of it is painful for him, but he doesn’t back away.
“I was trying to sort things out before everyone gets here. I’ll put this in a different room.” I move to close the box, and he stops me. “Don’t, Trésor. I’ve spent a lot of time remembering... the wrong things.” He gently plucks the car from my hand before he kisses my ring finger. The hurt I can feel rolling off him stings, the longing, the piece of himself he’ll never get back. He’ll never stop grieving his brother, and I’ll never ask him to because, in truth, I don’t think any of us ever will.
“You can tell me,” I say softly. “Whatever you’re thinking.”
He clutches the car in his hand and nods. “I know,” he says softly. “I’m thinking of him in his pajamas as a little boy with a smart mouth.” He gives me a sad smile. “I’m going to go take a walk.”
“There’s a storm coming.” I nod toward the window.
“I’ll make it quick, wife.”
I beam at the title as he presses a kiss to my lips before he leaves the room, lingering sadness in his wake. Heart heavy, I watch him descend the stairs before looking back at the box, my curiosity winning over my need to recapture the peace I felt just moments ago.