The Promise Read online

  “That sounds perfect. I actually have some place I think you’d like. It’s over the bridge a ways.”

  “Your side of town.”

  “The wrong side of the river,” he joked along, but there was a rueful edge to his tone.

  “Whatever you want,” I said, and gently squeezed his arm. “Tonight you can lead me astray.”

  I’d meant it teasingly, but Theo paused on the sidewalk and looked down at me.

  “I promise, you’re safe with me,” he said, his forehead knit slightly, those blue eyes as sincere as they come.

  It struck me, clean through my chest. I laughed and smiled, and started walking again, making some joke about exploring the wilds of the city, protecting me from rolling boulders in true Indiana Jones fashion, but inside, I knew what he’d said, so sweetly, was already a lie.

  My heart wasn’t safe from him at all.

  We took the MBTA subway across to Boston, crushed together in the sticky car with the rush hour crowds. Every jolt and sway of the shaky journey sent me inches closer to him, until Theo rested a casual hand on the small of my back to steady me; bringing me into the warm circle of his embrace. For once, I was glad the roar of the trains drowned out any hint of conversation; at least then I could be sure my racing heartbeat wouldn’t be heard. It was enough to be standing there, feeling the heat of his solid form like the center of the universe, hurling us onward beneath the earth until the doors shuddered open and the crowds pushed up, upwards through the tunnels until we emerged, giddy on the other side of the world.

  “Hungry?” Theo asked, when we were clear from the turnstiles. My stomach was tied in knots, but I nodded.

  “What is this neighborhood?” I asked, looking around. The streets were quaint, narrow cobblestones in places sloping up the hill, with older brownstone townhouses and tiny corner restaurants. “It looks almost European. Not that I’ve ever actually been to Europe,” I added quickly.

  “Me neither,” he said with a sigh. “But I’d like to, one day. Rome, Paris, Barcelona . . .”

  “Where’s that patron when you need him?”

  He chuckled. “Probably living right here. This is Beacon Hill,” he explained. “It used to be the wealthy part of the city, but there were publishing houses and literary salons here too. Louisa May Alcott lived here, Thoreau too.”

  “I love that. The history you get in these cities.” I looked around, imagining the streets hundreds of years ago. “It probably didn’t look much different to how it does today. Back home, they pretty much tear down any building over twenty years old, but here . . . who knows who walked on these very same streets?”

  “So you are a romantic at heart.”

  I turned. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, you seem so . . . self-contained, sometimes. Like Kelsey.” Theo regarded me carefully. “It’s hard to tell what’s going on beneath the surface with you.”

  I had to laugh at that. I felt like such an open book to him, all my feelings shining as bright as the neon streetlights lining our path.

  “So, food,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Priorities.” He chuckled.

  “Always.”

  “After you.” He nodded to a store on the corner. When I stepped inside, I found it was a wine shop with a deli section buried in the back. Cheese wheels jostled with briny bowls of olives, and thick slabs of chocolate were stacked behind the glass, dark and rich. We picked out breads and cheeses and spreads until we had enough to feed a small army, then took our crisp paper bags back out onto the street again. “You’ll have to trust me for this next part,” Theo warned me with a mischievous grin.

  “That sounds dangerous,” I laughed.

  “Only a little.” He led me halfway up the hill, to one of the elegant brownstone buildings. He paused at the top step, and looked cautiously around.

  “Why do I get the feeling we’re not supposed to be here?” I asked, only teasing a little.

  “That depends,” he said, reaching for the door. There were buzzers for several apartments, but instead, he entered five digits on the security pad. “If they’ve changed the code . . .” The final number entered, the panel flashed green, and the door opened with a click.

  “Thank you, Professor Martindale.” Theo held the door open for me, then quickly led me up the first flight of a polished oak staircase. The building was hushed, our footsteps swallowed by the thick, luxurious rugs on the floors. “He taught a seminar last year, but was too lazy to ever come to campus, so I would have to schlep all the way here at seven on a Saturday morning.”

  We circled up another flight, higher still. One of the apartment doors suddenly opened. I froze. It was an older woman, dripping with pearls and tweed. She didn’t notice us at first, trying to control the tiny yapping dog twisting loops in his leash.

  Busted.

  I was already trying to think of excuses, but Theo didn’t miss a beat. “Let me get that for you.” He leapt to hold the door for her, the picture of politeness.

  “Oh, thank you,” the woman gushed. “Come along now, Colonel Mustard!”

  Theo met my eyes over her head, and we both struggled not to laugh. The pair headed downstairs without another glance, then Theo took my hand and pulled me upstairs, faster, muffling our laughter.

  “Colonel Mustard!”

  I lost track of how many flights we climbed, until finally, Theo opened a door marked “fire escape” on the top landing, and suddenly, Boston lay spread at our feet.

  “Wow,” I breathed, stepping out onto the roof. We were almost at the top of the hill, rooftops descending below us down along the narrow streets all the way to the inky waters of the river. I could see the bridge, lit up, and the far shores of Cambridge with the neon river of headlights.

  “Look behind you.”

  I turned. Above us, the city kept stretching: old buildings cloaked in a golden haze of lights, with modern office blocks and their sheets of glass looming higher still.

  “How did you find this place?”

  “I had time to kill marking one afternoon, and it was too hot to go anywhere,” Theo explained. “I would camp out here most of the semester. It’s completely hidden away. Even the residents in the building don’t seem to know it’s here.”

  “Their loss.”

  Theo dragged a rusting bench to overlook the skyline, and we each sat down on either end, spreading the bounty of our picnic between us. He poured us sparkling grape juice into paper cups, and we used plastic cutlery to construct makeshift sandwiches with the crusty French loaf, gorging ourselves until I couldn’t eat another bite. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about, all I remember is the laughter and slow easing of my nerves, those tight bands of caution loosening with every passing hour, the world spread before us, but somehow at a remove. On the river, the lights of a cruiser glittered, another train clacked across the bridge, and for the first time in a long while, I felt my worries slip into that distant static hum.

  “Tough day?” Theo asked.

  I kept my eyes on the distant horizon. “Tough year.”

  He paused a moment, folding our wrappers into neat squares and tucking them away. “Tell me about Hope,” he asked, surprising me.

  I felt the ripple of a chill across my skin, and had to steel myself against the sadness that still came, whenever her reluctant smile slipped into view.

  “She was trouble,” I started. “You know that kid, where your parents always say, ‘Stay away from them, they’re trouble’? Well, that was Hope. She had a way of saying exactly what she thought, and doing whatever the hell she wanted. And she didn’t care whose feathers she ruffled in the process.” I grinned. “My parents hated her, they’d never admit it, but she knew. And it didn’t bother her at all. She used to say the cancer was her ultimate ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

  “That’s . . . ballsy.” Theo sounded surprised.

  “She wasn’t always like that. At least, she said she wasn’t. Hope used to say there
were two versions of her: BC, before cancer, and after. I didn’t meet her until she was back in her third round of chemo. She’d been in and out of remission since she was thirteen. They thought they’d got it all this time, but . . . they were wrong.”

  “You must miss her.”

  I nodded slowly. “Every day. But it’s weird, I see her, I hear her all the time. Something will happen at work, like Kelsey making a crack, or JJ going off on one of his comic-book rants, and I’ll know exactly what Hope would say, the look she’d give me, right down to the smile.”

  I wondered suddenly if I could ever be so indelible, marked so deep on somebody’s consciousness that I lasted long after I was gone. What I’d told Theo about wanting to be the subject of someone’s song was right: we all wanted immortality. And Hope had hers; with every passing day she haunted me.

  I looked up to find Theo watching me. I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to shake off the maudlin thoughts of death and beyond. “Let’s not talk about it, not tonight. Anything but this.”

  “Anything?” Theo’s smile took on a teasing edge. “OK, what about your art?”

  “Next question.”

  He laughed. “Come on. You’re good, really good. You should be in art school.”

  I shook my head. “I just play around, it’s not real.”

  “What is real?”

  “Now he gets all philosophical.” I gave him a look, but Theo wasn’t swayed.

  “Don’t you want to pursue it? Those sketches I saw, they didn’t just look like a way to pass the time.”

  “Maybe, in an alternate universe,” I admitted. “But I can’t afford it. Even materials add up, and besides, a fine art degree is about as lucrative as a poetry one.”

  “Ouch,” he laughed. “Low blow.”

  “You know what I mean. Besides,” I added softly, looking out at the dark hum of the city. “The timing was all wrong. Going to classes, sitting in a library all day . . . it would have felt like a waste. Hope wanted to see so much of the world, to taste it all.”

  “And now you’re doing it for her,” Theo finished for me.

  “I’m trying.” I gave him a smile. “So thank you, for this. Tonight. I’m glad I got to see this place.”

  And you.

  Theo held my gaze. “I have to admit, my reasons were purely selfish.”

  I swallowed, my throat dry. We were alone again now, just us, and a distant world that glittered with delicate longing. He was closer now than he’d ever been, his elegant fingers resting on the rusted steel just inches from my skirts; those blue eyes watching me with careful curiosity; his chest rising and falling with steady breath.

  The moment swept through me like a wingbeat, a thousand possibilities racing in my blood. It was like an epiphany, dawning through the dark. I could reach out and touch him, to hell with the consequences.

  I could do anything at all.

  My breath caught in my chest. Staring at the city, I slowly moved my hand, inch by inch, until my fingers overlapped his.

  Just as slowly, I felt Theo turned his palm up to graze mine. His fingers closed around me, holding lightly, as if I might crumble to the touch. But I wasn’t made from glass, ready to shatter.

  In that moment, I was invincible.

  He reached across with his other hand and touched the dark strands that lay flat against my cheek. “You look so different like this,” he said. I’d forgotten about the costume, the wig.

  “It’s stupid, I know,” I said, flushing, but his touch remained, the gentle graze of his fingertips gently tracing my jaw.

  “The Ancient Greeks used to say, give a man a mask and he’ll tell you the truth.”

  “So what truth are you telling today?” I whispered, unable to look away.

  Theo smiled at me, a crooked, bashful smile.

  “How much I want you.”

  I inhaled in a rush. His eyes were still on me, dark constellations beckoning me to fall, and oh, how I wanted to. My need for him was so complete it hummed through every cell in my body, vibrating on a frequency beyond mere desire. And I could see it in him too, the way his gaze slipped to my lips, the slow stroke of his thumb against my skin. We were gravity, we were the earth’s true orbit, inexorably drawn together under that midnight sky for just one purpose; the simplest thing in the world.

  A kiss.

  I’d had kisses before him, and plenty since then, but nothing could ever compare to that first miracle of his mouth on mine. His touch was slow, infinite, but as his lips pressed softly, I was already falling. I was already his. I sank against the heat of it, submerged in sensation: his stubble scratching softly against my palm as I pressed it to his cheek; every taste; every last breath.

  It was an infinity and a heartbeat all at once, and I came up for air feeling dazzled and raw, like I’d stared too long into the sun.

  Theo exhaled in a rush beside me. “Oh.”

  “Oh,” I echoed softly, spinning. It seemed impossible for the world to still exist, but there it was, rooted firmly all around us while I had come apart at the seams. My fingers clutched his hand tighter of their own volition, needing an anchor, and I dared myself to meet his gaze again.

  I’ve never seen desire like the kind I saw burning in his eyes.

  He reached for me again, harder, hungrier, but now my mouth demanded just as much more. Our bodies slid together, grasping, reaching. There was no thought process, no logic to weigh; suddenly my entire universe had been reduced to a raw, feral need. More of him. All of him. Anything I could take, and give, anything I could feel. Hands and hot skin and gasping mouths. God, I wanted it all, and who knows how much we would have stolen up there on that empty rooftop if his phone hadn’t cut through the gasp of heavy breathing, the shrill blare of a ringtone echoing sharply into the dark.

  Theo pulled back, panting. I was under him, somehow, my skirts hiked and in disarray.

  “Don’t.” My hands were still on him, sliding over the wide plains of his shoulders, thin cotton all that was separating me. I tasted his collarbone, felt his heartbeat thundering to escape his chest. “Leave it.”

  Theo groaned. “I can’t.”

  He clambered inelegantly down from the bench and snatched up his bag. I lay back, staring up at the heavens, and felt the rush of blood sing through my body as he answered.

  I was drunk, boneless. I was a star burning brightly in that infinite sky.

  “Yes, this is he,” Theo was saying, his back turned to me. His voice changed, lower, muttering out of earshot until finally he hung up.

  “Who was that?” I asked, tilting my head towards him.

  He turned then, but he didn’t meet my eyes as he righted his clothing, pulled on one discarded boot. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?” I slowly sat up, pulling my own clothes back in place.

  “Nothing.” Theo’s tone cut so sharply, I tasted blood.

  “Theo—”

  “It’s nothing.” He gritted his jaw, swept our things into a bag. “It’s late, anyway. You should be getting home.”

  He’d flipped the switch again, broken the circuit that had surged between us only seconds before. Something clawed at me from the inside as I got to my feet and slowly followed him to the doorway. The city that had glittered so brightly seemed cold now, and far away. We walked back downstairs in silence, every footstep echoing with questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask, not when he wouldn’t even look at me. Ten seconds, twenty—how long had passed since we were up there beyond it all? How long had it taken to dissolve into nothing?

  Theo held the front door for me. “You know how to get to the subway from here?”

  I nodded.

  “OK.” He swallowed, and for a moment, I saw something crack in his expression. But it must have been my imagination, because when he lifted his head again, there was nothing but a blank resolve on his face, so smooth he could have been talking to a stranger.

  “I really have to go.”

  He
left me there on the steps, hurrying fast down the street without a backward glance until the blackness swallowed him whole.

  I fought the bitter sting of tears all my way home.

  Chapter Nine

  It was December before I saw Theo again. He disappeared so thoroughly into the night that Halloween that he left no trace of himself behind, no glimpse of him walking past the coffee shop, no espresso order at the counter in the mornings. It was as if he’d never existed at all.

  The weeks passed. I tucked my costume carefully away into a box at the top of my closet and went back to the life I’d been building before: pouring coffee, cycling through the frosted city, and meeting Tessa and her friends sometimes for burgers and beers at the dim pub over on Inman Square, but those simple pleasures that had brought me so much joy seemed flatter now, the cap left untightened long enough for the bubbles to fade away. I told myself it was for the best, that he’d saved us both with his swift escape, but I couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at me, up there on the rooftop, the city burning all around us while my heart caught fire.

  I had something inside me now, twisting and craving with no way out. I threw myself into my art, spilling over from sketchpads to free-standing frames, to larger-scale works that I pinned on our apartment walls and covered with thick, textured slashes of paint, but still, I couldn’t find a way to free the beast caged within. Tessa would come home at night and find me there, fingers dripping, dream-like in my total obsession, a sleepwalker intent on only one thing. The canvas costs were exorbitant, but I didn’t care: I worked extra shifts, one eye still on the door, for as much as my mind knew the simple fact of his disappearance should be enough to quell the restless ache in my chest, I couldn’t shut it down. Even a glimpse of movement passing outside the foggy windows made my pulse kick, dancing a demanding staccato in my chest. Every blonde head in a crowd, every duffel coat or footstep through the door, and my body would whirl to attention, waiting to see Theo cross over that threshold and give me that quiet, certain smile. But of course, it never came.