She has her head tipped back, watching the starlit sky.
Sensing my presence, she sighs, piercing my fucking chest. “You pulled the wool right over my eyes.”
“Did I?” I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “I was truthful. You simply didn’t want to take the answers for what they were. And Viviana, you haven’t been truthful either. For someone who said she loved me, you had no qualms about marrying someone else. You’ve known for months, but you never told me.”
“You fucking asshole.” She spins around, pointing an accusatory finger. “As if you would have listened to or respected my decision.”
My restraint snaps, and I back her into the wall, palming the sides of her face. “In what fucking universe would I have allowed my woman to marry someone else?”
She cranes her neck to look up at me. “Well, congratulations! You get to marry me. But I will never be that foolish girl who loved you as if you were my soulmate when you have always been the villain in disguise.”
“Call me whatever the fuck you want, anything that makes it easier for you,” I spit, jerking my chin at her. I am the opposite of innocent, but damn neither is she. “I guess you don’t take any accountability. Who came to New York to get fucked?”
She raises her hand to slap me, but I catch it midway. The echo of her wanting to hurt me rings in my ears.
I close my eyes for a moment, her pain fucking killing me, and when I open them, hers are teary. It’s not fear I detect—thank God—but unfiltered sadness.
“What do you know about being trapped, Tristan, with no way to live your life as you’d like? Blame me. Fine. I wanted one night, something that I chose to give. I regret it. Happy?”
“You regret it? Regret me? Loving me, fucking me? What exactly?” I snap, her words butchering my insides.
“Everything. I hate you. I hate you so deeply that every bit of the love I had is now gone, obliterated by your twisted game, your obsessive need for control.”
I refuse to believe this is our end, so I cup the back of her neck and slam my mouth onto hers, wanting to taste if she tells the truth or feeds us both lies.
She melts into my arms for a moment, kissing me back with the same passion until she pushes at my chest. It’s the force of her rejection that makes me stumble back.
She erases my kiss with the back of her hand and pins me with a maniacal look. “Never kiss me again. Don’t touch me. Stop thinking I will allow you back in. You fooled me once. I won’t repeat that mistake.” Chest heaving, she says, “You and Evie must have had a real good laugh about how stupid I am.”
I rake a hand through my hair, losing my composure by the second. “Stop saying things that are not true.” My voice softens into a plea. “I made her promise not to tell you. You want to hate someone, fucking hate me.”
She storms off, leaving me to stare at the ashes of her love scattered at my feet. I throw my head back and roar my sorrow to an indifferent universe.
I feel wetness on my face, and when I bring my fingers to my cheeks, tears coat the tips.
The last time I cried was when my father locked me out in the winter to stand guard for the night. He called it hardening my resolve. Just in my pajamas, I faced minus degrees, expecting to die of hypothermia.
I cried until I realized that no amount of tears would warm me, so I ran in place for hours. Nothing the fucker did to me hurt even a smidgen of what her words caused.
Going back inside, I notice she glues herself to her sister and her group of friends, using them as a shield. Even if I try to pry her away, I won’t succeed. That’s why she did it.
We exchange a look, and I smirk, looking her dead in the eye for her to read the unspoken message. She can hide behind her sister, but in one month, she’s mine, and then she won’t be able to hide ever again.
The moment I am in the car, I unbutton the top button of my shirt and yank at my tie, afraid it might fucking suffocate me.
I drive away, needing to return to New York because I can’t be held accountable if I remain in her vicinity.
My phone rings, and I answer my sister.
“How did it go?”
“Fucking exceptional,” I grunt.
“What did you expect?” she mumbles, letting me know she’s mad at me.
“Not the right moment, Evie.”
“I lost my only friend, my best friend, because of you.” She cries, and I grit my jaw hard enough that I might break some molars.
