“That’s where you’re wrong.” His voice is flat now. Final. “My life will finally be better with you out of the picture.”
As I stare directly into the cold, unforgiving barrel of Lucas’s gun, the reality of my imminent demise looms over me like a dark cloud.
The sharpcrackof gunshots pierce the air, and the last thing I see is Annalise’s sapphire and emerald eyes sparkling as she smiles at me while the world around me slips away.
CHAPTER FIFTY
annalise
Salsa music fillsthe air as I stroll through the vibrant streets of Havana with Abuelo by my side. Gleaming vintage cars are parked along the cobblestone streets next to the colorful pastel buildings.
Abuelo pauses, a distant look softening his eyes. Slowly, the corners of his mouth lift into a nostalgic smile. “I met Abuela on this very street. I was walking home from the grocery store and was so distracted by her beauty that I didn’t notice a biker coming from behind me. He ended up knocking me over, and all of my groceries were destroyed.”
My eyes widen, hands flying to my mouth. “Oh my gosh, Abuelo, did you get hurt?”
“Yeah. I had a bunch of cuts and bruises. Abuela lived around the corner, so she nursed my wounds and cooked dinner for me. It wasn’t long before I fell in love with her.”
“Now that is one epic meet-cute,” I say with a smile.
“Let’s go down that road,” he says, pointing to the left, where there’s a bright light illuminating the street. “There’s a shop with the bestpastelitos!”
He rounds the corner and I follow him. Butas I take a step forward, an invisible barrier halts me in my tracks, pressing against my chest. I strain against it, pushing with all my might, but I can’t break through.
“Abuelo!” I call out.
He doesn’t so much as glance back, his figure growing smaller as he strides down the road, the space between us stretching wider.
“Abuelo! Please, come back!” I plead, desperation creeping into my tone, but the words seem to evaporate into thin air.
The blare of my alarm pulls me out of my dream. I’m no longer in Havana with Abuelo, but in my cold bedroom, all alone.
Rolling over to the side, I grab my phone, knocking over my ashtray in the process. It clatters to the ground, scattering ashes and used joints all over the hardwood floor.
“Damn it,” I sigh as I throw the covers off and force myself out of bed.
I crouch down on the ground and pick up the joints off the floor. Then I straighten and walk to my door, turning the knob. I peek out and find Mazi standing by the kitchen counter, sipping on some coffee.
I’ve been trying to avoid human interaction as much as possible. After dinner, I lock myself in my room and don’t come out until the next morning. I don’t have it in me to engage in any conversations, and I’m tired of seeing the stares of pity. Everyone feels like they need to walk on eggshells around me.
“Good morning,” Mazi says when I walk out into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I reply, my tone flat and dry.
I open the cabinet that hides our trash can and discard the joints.
“These came for you last night.” She nods toward the vase of red roses sitting on our kitchen counter.
Maddox’s messy handwriting is scrawled on a small card sticking out of the bouquet. I pull it out to read it.
My gut twists when I think about the last time we saw each other. He wore the same pained look on his face then as he did when I broke his heart all those years ago.
I miss the way his soft brown eyes light up when he sees me, and the way his dimples sink into his cheeks when he smiles. I miss the way his hands fit in mine and the feel of his soft lips caressing my skin. I misshim.
I want to reach out to him and tell him I didn’t mean what I said, but then the image of him screwing Charlotte flashes through my mind, and I’m reminded why I shouldn’t.
I set the card down, grab a mug from the cabinet, and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Are you excited for your pop-up shop today?” Mazi asks. “I have to leave to go to a photo shoot soon, but I’ll stop by afterward to support you.”
