“I can’t believe you’re willing to throw away what we have because I did one thing you didn’t like,” he says, his voice filled with bitterness. “Jesus! It’s not like I cheated on you or something. Everything I’ve done has been for you, Belle.For you. I gave up millions of dollars for you. I signed a shittythree-yeardeal that’ll have me beholdento Dylanfor you. And yet, you actually want to give up on us. Do you even hear yourself right now?”
I close my eyes, shutting out his words. “I’m sorry, Will, but the fact that you can’t understand what you did wrong proves we don’t belong together. You’re never going to see me for who I am, which means you’ll never love me the way I need to be loved.”
“Fine, go then, because clearly nothing is ever going to be enough for you.”
“I’m so sorry, Will. I hope you can understand.”
“No, I really can’t,” he says, digging into his pocket and pulling out a small black velvet box. He slams it on the counter. “This isnothow I thought tonight was going to go.”
Shit. He was going to propose. Shock and pain vibrate through me. I stare at the box knowing that the life I thought I wanted is sitting right here within my grasp. But that life was a fantasy and the reality is not one I can live with. I force myself to turn away from him and walk to the front door before I can change my mind. I pick up my overnight bag and am about to walk outside when I hear his voice. “You’re letting them win. You know that, right? Dylan, the media, my stupid wild girl fans,your brother. You’re letting them all win.”
I freeze with my hand on the doorknob, but I don’t turn around because I don’t think I can handle seeing his face right now. “No, I’m not. If I stayed with you, it would be on your terms. I’m letting myself win for once.”
With that, I turn the knob and walk out into the cool night air, the screen door slamming behind me.
I sob once, then hold my head high and walk over to Norm and Bellford, who are standing next to the car smoking. They quickly put out their cigarettes, and Norm rushes to open the back door, while Bellford takes my bag and puts it in the boot. Neither of them says a word, for which I’m grateful. I get in and settle myself in the backseat, waiting until the doors are closed and the lights go off before I let the tears pour out.
26
I’m Totally Fine, Thanks for Asking…
Will
“Areyou sure this is a good idea?” Dwight asks, staring down at me with his arms folded.
I’m sitting on his couch and I just turned on the telly to watch episode three ofPrincess in the Wild,which is going to start in about three and a half minutes, give or take. “Of course, it’s not a good idea,” I say. “But when has that ever stopped me from doing anything?”
“Why don’t I watch it for you to make sure that Dylan kept her word. You could… I don’t know, maybe go for a nice, long run, perhaps to a certain palace where you could attempt to make up with the love of your life?”
“Nope. I’m really the only one who knows what we agreed to. Besides, it’s not gonna bother meat allto watch this—I wasn’t really all that attached to her.”
“Yes, sure, sure,” he says, sounding anything but convinced. “It’s just that I can’t help but remember all those things you said about her being like the warmth of the sun on a cool winter’s day and all that. Remember? When you were spending a massive wad of cash on an engagement ring for her? Like about thirty hours ago? And now…you’re saying you were never that attached. You can see why I’d be confused.”
“When I make up my mind, it’s done,” I say, getting up and walking over to the kitchen. “You know what I need? A boozy smoothie. One of the guests at the resort ordered it from me years ago, when I was working at the beach bar. It’s brilliant really. Ice cream and straight bourbon. Can I make you one?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, smiling at him. “You won’t know what you’re missing out on if you never try.”
Holding up one hand, Dwight says, “I’m still rather full from dinner.”
“More for me.” I open the vanilla ice cream carton and free pour bourbon directly in until it’s nearly full. I grab a spoon from the drawer, then make my way back to the couch, seeing Dwight visibly stiffen.
“Remember rule number eight?” he asks. “No eating in the… oh, I see you’re just going to do it anyway.”
“Don’t worry. I have very steady hands,” I say, stirring the concoction. “Well, at least until I finish this. I’ll be shitfaced by then.”
When the theme song starts up, it feels like my heart is being literally ripped out of my chest by that bad guy in that Indiana Jones movie. You know the one, where that guy rips that other guy’s heart out of his chest while he was still alive. Yeah, seeing her face feels about that good.
And…there she is in a gown getting out of a limo. The woman I was about to propose to a mere twenty-four hours ago, looking too beautiful to be real. I continue watching while I stir my snack. Finally, the theme song ends and a commercial starts up, temporarily relieving me from my misery. “See the trick is, you stir in the booze until you can drink it. It’s a very efficient way to get drunk compared to spoonfuls.” Looking around, I see that Dwight’s not here. I shrug, then take a swig of the carton.
He returns with his arms full of blankets. “Get up.”
“It’s fine, I’m not going to spill.”
“Up.”
I do as he says and watch in wonder while he puts a sheet down on the couch, then an old blanket over top. He smooths them out until he looks satisfied. Finally, he nods. “Okay, you can sit down. But this is aone-timething,” he says in a warning tone.
