I’d rather not be here, but the thought of going back to the villa isn’t all that enticing, either. I’m stuck. And something tells me, with this large, dark and looming cloud coming, the next couple of minutes are going to dictate what happens next.
“So much for the romantic dinner,” I mutter, gesturing at the table as small drops of rain begin to pelt the linens. The candles flicker and die one by one. Seeing them extinguish feels predictable.
There’s also the question of why he’s on this show in the first place. A question, since he showed up on the dock, I’ve chosen to ignore. But the more time has gone on, the more that questions keeps invading my thoughts. A part of me wants to at least hear the excuse and be done with it. Maybe then he’d disappear into the depths of the past. But that other part, the part that’s fearful of what he might say, is just as loud.
It’d be up to me whether or not to believe his “truth.”
“Congrats,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Now that you have me here, what’s your grand plan?”
Scott’s jaw tightens. Leaning forward, his eyes lock on mine. “How else could I get you to talk to me?”
“About what exactly? I have nothing to say, so nothing needs to be said.”
He rests his elbows on the table, leaning impossibly closer. “It’s a giant fucking elephant in the room with us. It needs to be said.”
“And what would that be? Your shitty choices?” I throw his words right back at him. “You’ve made your bed. Why can’t you just lie in it like I have?”
“Because there’s more to the story than you know. And you should know.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re here. I’m unfinished business for you,” I say with fake and sarcastic enthusiasm. Damon’s words echo in my head. Does he see you as a partner…or a prize?
Scott shakes his head as if in annoyance.
I continue. “You’re only here because you want to twist some shitty-ass narrative where you’re the victim in your decision-making. Not that you found some greener grass somewhere and was too much of a coward to say it was over to my face.”
At first, he doesn’t say anything, his head down. Then he looks back up at me as if he’s thought of something. “You seem rather confident about my motives when you don’t even know the reasoning behind them.”
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. “I don’t have to assume. I was a casualty of your motives.”
“So you’re perfectly content with hating me, even when you don’t have the whole story?” He arches a brow, staring at me skeptically.
“What other part of this story is there to tell? You left for yourself. End of story.”
Before he can argue back, the wind whips the gauze curtains sideways, and the sky opens.
All at once, rain comes down hard and horizontal in seconds, soaking us instantly.
Scott is immediately on his feet. “We need to get to shelter. Now.”
He eats the distance between us, reaching for my hand. I push it away. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“So you’d rather die in this storm.”
I scoff. “Please, I’m not going to die. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Lyla, don’t do this.”
“Do what? I’m perfectly fine where I am.”
In all honesty, I’m not. But anywhere is better than near him.
I look off into the horizon, lifting my chin in defiance.
“Yeah? Well, I’m not fine with it.”
Before I can protest, he has me over his shoulder, walking away from the table.
I kick and scream, hitting his broad, muscled back with my fists. “Put me down, you rat bastard.”
