“You have all of these I would and will never have, and you’re here. I don’t get it.Thatis your life now, is it not? New York life and all that, right?”
I shake my head. “That isn’t my life.”
“Then what is? Because you left. You.Left.”
“I had to!” I shout back.
“No, your parents made you! You didn’t evenwantto! I know how your parents felt about me and my mother. I won’t allow you back because I know… Now, you think of me the same way they did. Look at you, Christian. Your fuckingshoes!”
“Not everything is about my money.”
“Isn’t it? I mean,” she laughs dryly, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, “your parents didn’t want me for you because of how I was raised. Because my mom cleaned houses and we had to learn English. Because my dad ran off with some woman and left us. I know what your parents thought of me.”
“I’m not my parents.”
The look in her eyes is like she’s ready for battle. “Right, well, you could have fooled me.”
“That’s not fair,” I breathe.
“Isn’t it?”
“You haven’t even stopped for one.Minute. To ask why I’m here.”
“I’ve tried!” Lana cries. “The only thing you keep telling me is that you’re here for me.”
“Isn’t that enough?”Please let it be enough.
“No, because I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter and you’re only here for your own benefit.”
“It matters, Lana! It.Matters.”
“Then tell me why, you giant rich idiot!”
I sigh on a grunt. “My money means nothing to me, Lana.” She opens her mouth to speak but I stop her. “No, it’s my turn.” She frowns, breathing out through her nose, and her shoulders drop. “I came back for you. Only you.”
She scoffs and turns on her heels. “You say the same shit every time, Christian?—”
“Lana, would you please just listen to me? I’m trying. I am…beggingyou.”
“No, Christian, because if I let you beg and apologize and win me back, I’m going to get hurt when you leave again. I’m stronger and smarter. I’m not going to let the past or your pretty face ruin all of the progress I made getting over you.” Her voice cracks. “Because it has taken me…foreverto get over you, and somehow I’m still not. I can’t do it. So no, I can’t just let you beg if you’re just going to break my heart again because I won’t survive it this time. It’llkill me.
“Do you haveany ideahow I burned—how Ibled?You left. No word, no call, no text, no note. You left, Christian, and I felt like I was dying because I had you! It was you and me for nearly three years.We were living together!I wake up with you next to me and we’re okay. We’re so happy and you kiss me good morning and you make love to me, and then I get home that evening and you’re gone. Thejarwas gone. Your clothes, your shoes, almost every trace of you went missing. I call youand it goes straight to voicemail. I text and those went unanswered.
“Sono.You don’t get to beg and apologize because, if you do, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to look you in the eyes and deny you. Because youhurt meand I had to find ways to fix myself. To not feel empty when I walked around this town so people wouldn’t look at me and ask if I was okay. I have lost so much, and when you left and I losteverythingI had left of me. I have nothing left… Now, what, Christian? Now you’re just going to get on your knees and beg for a second chance? The worst part about this is that you might not deserve one—who knows—but I know myself well enough to know that you’re going to get one anyway.”
Lana stands frozen and I take careful steps toward her. My frame forms a shadow over hers, and her brown eyes, as round as saucers, are welling with tears I wish weren’t about to fall in my name.
Slowly, I lower myself onto my knees. My hands wrap around her calves and she inhales sharply. I run my hands up the backs of her legs until I cup the backs of her thighs. “I’m begging you.”
The tears fall and she wipes them away. “Christian.”
I put my forehead to her stomach. “I came back for you, Lana.”
“But you still haven’t told me why,” she murmurs. “I need the answer you aren’t giving me. Why now?What happened?”
“I’ve…” I don’t even know how to tell her. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to. She’s finally asked mewhyandwhat, and I don’t know any words. The things I’ve done just flash in my mind like the most traumatic montage, and I cringe. “Can you trust me?”
She sniffles. “I don’t know.”
