41. Mary
Chapter 41
Mary
I’m staring at the screen, the words blurring before my eyes. Connor’s message pulses like a neon sign in my tangled thoughts.
Connor: I’m here.
I don’t know if I can do this.
My finger hovers over the reply button, trembling.
Meeting Chris, the man who turned my world upside down through mere text messages and phone calls. Chris... the man whose very name had once made my heart flutter with girlish infatuation. But not the man who, as it turns out, fucked and then left me the next morning.
That man I’ve spent countless nights dreaming about, wondering why he left me without a goodbye. No, sorry. Just a pathetic note.
C, as in Connor, not Chris .
Connor. The name tastes bitter on my tongue now, tainted by his lies. How could he do this to me? Pretend to be someone else? And then reappear in my life, seduce me, make me fall for him... only for me to find out it was him all along?
I want to hate him. I should hate him.
But even now, with anger coursing through my veins and betrayal squeezing my heart, I can’t.
I fucking can’t, and I hate myself for it.
The memory of his touch, his kiss, the way he made me feel alive, cherished, and wanted. That I’m enough. The way his eyes see through my defenses and into my deepest desires. I hate myself for still wanting him, for craving his presence like a drug.
Damn him.
Damn me for still wanting him, despite everything.
Looking into Connor’s eyes when I told him I needed to meet Chris was awful. His eyes, usually so piercing and confident, dimmed with something akin to resignation and defeat. The way his shoulders slumped, it seemed he knew this moment was inevitable. He knew I could never fully be his until I confronted Chris.
A part of me ached at his hurt, my resolve wavering for the briefest moment before I steeled myself.
I don’t know what to believe anymore. Is Chris the man I fell in love with, or is he a monster in disguise? Is Connor telling the truth, or is he just trying to keep me for himself?
Trying to steady my nerves, I take a deep breath .
So, I have to know the truth. I need to do this for myself. For the girl who fell in love with a stranger in a mask, the girl who’s been chasing a fantasy for far too long. I have to do this. I need answers and closure.
My hands tremble as I type out a response.
Mary: I’ll be right down.
I grab my purse and suitcase, my movements automatic and robotic. “Well, I guess this is it.” I aim for nonchalance even as my voice wavers slightly.
Gemma engulfs me in a tight embrace. “Are you sure you want to go through with this alone? Lil and I could come with you, keep you company.”
They have their own plans. Elijah wants to whisk Gemma away to the beach, and Lil will be off to a spa weekend. I know they would cancel the second I said I needed them there, but maybe it’s better if it’s just Connor and me. And at least they should have a good time, especially Lil.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Connor will be there.” He is the last person I should want by my side, but what’s weird is that I feel safe knowing he’ll be by my side.
“Have you forgiven him?” Lil asks.
I’ve been wrestling with that question for what feels like years and still don’t know the answer. When I arrived at the office and saw the cameras pointed at me or my energy drinks and coffee magically transforming into water while I was at a meeting, I was relieved .
It’s so stupid that I was relieved that my stalker was still there. But he hid away, watching me from afar, so I did the only thing I could think of to get him out of there, taking me away from his view. If that hadn’t done the trick, I would have taken some poor guy on a date again. I wonder how that would have turned out.
“I don’t know.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “But he’s trying to make things right. That has to count for something.”
Lil’s gaze softens as she nods. She has always been the more forgiving type. Gemma, however, still looks unsure. After what she went through, honesty and loyalty are everything to her. Something she found with Elijah.
“Text us when you get there, okay?” Gemma says. “And when you’re leaving. And—”
“Of course. You’ll get all the details,” I say.
They both envelop me in a hug. “Good luck,” they whisper almost in unison.
“Love you, guys.”
“We love you, too,” Gemma says.
“Very much,” Lil adds.
“I should get going. Connor’s waiting.”
With one last squeeze, they release me, and I get down.
What if this is a mistake? What if seeing Chris only makes things worse?
But I have to know. No matter how ugly or painful it might be, I have to see him to finally be able to move on .
The parking garage is dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners, and there he is. A shadow that always followed me.
My stalker.
Connor. Leaning against his car. He’s dressed in a suit, his sleeves rolled up and no tie.
Our eyes meet, and the pain in his makes me want to run into his arms, kiss him, and make everything okay again. But no, not yet. Not until I have answers.
His tone is brisk, business-like. “Ready?”
Is he as nervous as I am? I nod, not trusting my voice. He pushes off the car and opens the passenger door for me.
I get in, murmuring a subdued “Thank you.”
Connor closes the door with a soft thud and places my suitcase in the back of the car before he walks around to the driver’s side, settling in with a sigh.
Neither of us speaks as we make our way through the busy streets. My thoughts churn anxiously, doubts rising to the surface. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Connor to do this. Maybe this visit is a mistake.
The airport looms ahead, and I realize I don’t even know where we’re going. A sleek private jet comes into view, the engines already humming in preparation. The finality of our next step presses down on me.
“We’re flying?”
His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. “Italy.”
Italy. The word resonates in the confined space, bouncing off the windows and settling heavily in my chest. “Italy? ”
“Si.” The foreign syllable slips from his lips effortlessly. “He needed to be as far away as possible.”
I nod because what else can I do? This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? Closure. Answers. A chance to see the path not taken, to confront the ghost that has haunted my dreams and whispered sweet deceptions in the dark.
He parks and kills the engine. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” My voice pitches higher than it should because everything is far from fine, but for now, it’s all I can offer.
Connor gets out and opens the door for me, helping me out of the car. I follow him up the stairs into the plane, steeling myself for whatever, or more like, Chris in Italy.
The cabin is spacious and luxurious.
I sink into the plush leather seat, my stomach churning with a mix of anticipation and dread. Connor settles beside me, his presence both comforting and unsettling.
A stewardess appears, her smile too bright for my somber mood. “Can I bring you anything before we take off?”
I shake my head.
“We’ll have a meal once we’re in the air, thank you,” Connor speaks for both of us.
She nods and disappears, leaving us alone in the suffocating silence. The plane ascends, pressing me back into my seat. Reality crashes over me like a tidal wave. I’m flying to Italy to confront the man who deceived me, the man I thought I loved .
His hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through my own. I want to pull away, to retreat into my anger and hurt, but his touch steadies me.
I hate that he still has this effect on me, even after everything.
His thumb strokes over my knuckles. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He’s here, he’s trying, he’s… fuck, I don’t know what he is anymore.
The signal for the seatbelt goes out, and seconds later, the stewardess returns, bearing a tray laden with Spaghetti alla Napoletana. The aroma of the noodles with tomato sauce wafts through the cabin. Did Connor? Although this is my favorite, my appetite has vanished.
She sets the tray down on the table in front of us.
“How long will the flight be?” I free my hand from his grasp, the loss of his warmth leaving me hollow.
He watches me, his eyes dark with an emotion I can’t name. “About eight hours.”
Or maybe I just don’t want to.
“Eight hours.” I feel the weight of each hour like a stone in my stomach.
“You’re not hungry?”
“No, not really.” The thought of food makes me feel sick even more.
He holds up my fork to me. “I know this is difficult for you. But you need to keep your strength up. Please eat something.”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t tell me what I need. You have no idea what I’m going through right now. ”
He flinches at my harsh tone, but I can’t bring myself to care. He’s the reason I’m in this mess, the reason my heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million pieces. The reason I'm safe.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I-I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you did a pretty fucking good job of it anyway.”
The stewardess returns, her smile faltering as she senses the tension between us. “Is everything alright?”
“Fine.” I stare out the window.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” she says.
“Why did you do it? Why did you pretend to be someone else?” I ask.
“I couldn’t resist you,” he says. “That night at the masquerade, when we danced, when we kissed… I knew it was wrong to pretend to be someone else, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted you so badly.”
“So you thought it was okay to just take what you wanted? To manipulate me into sleeping with you?” My voice trembles with anger and hurt.
“No, that’s not… I didn’t plan for it to happen like that. I just wanted to talk to you to get to know you better. But then things escalated, and I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Bullshit.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You could have stopped at any point. You could have told me the truth.”
He reaches for me, but I flinch away. “Blue, please. I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But my feelings for you are real. What we have is real.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I whisper .
He takes my hand in his, and this time, I don’t pull away. His touch is familiar and comforting.
“Believe this.” He presses my palm to his chest, over his heart. I feel it beating beneath my fingers, strong and steady. “Believe that I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible.”
My breath catches in my throat. I love him, too. Even now. But I don’t know if I can trust him if I can… What if he leaves again?
I draw back my hand and start eating, watching the clouds drift by.
After I’m done, the stewardess cleans up and leaves us alone again.
“You might want to lie down, Blue. There’s a bed in the back.” He points towards a little room in the back.
“Thanks.” I rise on unsteady legs and make my way there.
Lying down, I close my eyes, but images of Chris and Connor dance behind my lids. How is Chris? Is he like in the messages? What kind of person must he be to do that to me? To others?
I’m lucky Connor was watching over me.
Footsteps approach, and I know it’s him. My stalker. I open my eyes to find him peering down at me, a frown on his face.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” Another lie.
He nods and turns away. But something inside me breaks at the widening distance .
My voice is barely above a whisper, “Connor.”
He pauses, peeking over his shoulder.
“Stay?” My request hangs fragile in the air, a single thread of hope stretched taut.
He hesitates, then moves closer, perching on the side of the bed with a careful distance still intact. I reach out, clutching his wrist.
He understands and eases down beside me, strong and sure, a counterpoint to my disarray.
We lie there, not speaking, the warmth of his body seeping into my chilled skin. He brushes his lips against my hair so gently it could be a dream, and for the first time since everything, I let myself believe that everything might be okay.
Connor is the one I love. I feel safe with. I want to have by my side.
“Mary… we’re about to land.” Connor gently rubs my shoulders, stirring me from the depths of a dreamless sleep.
My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented, the soft hum of the private jet’s engine in my ear.
Right, we’re flying to Italy.
We’re curled up together under the blankets. His arm is draped over my waist and his breath warm against my neck filly my chest with a bittersweet ache.
“We need to get back to our seats.” His eyes meet mine, holding a quiet strength I find myself leaning into despite the chasm of hurt between us.
“Okay. ”
The landing is smooth, almost imperceptibly so. As we disembark, the Italian air greets us with its balmy embrace of citrus and sea, but it does little to ease the tightness in my chest.
Connor’s hand comes to rest on the small of my back, guiding me toward a sleek black car. “The prison is about an hour’s drive from here.”
“Prison?”
“I told you he’s dangerous, and he’s…” Connor’s teeth grind against each other. “He’s paying for what he did and wanted to do.”
“How did you even arrange for Chris to be moved here?” It’s a question that’s been burning inside me since we left, one I’m not sure I want the answer to.
“It’s complicated,” he says. “But let’s just say I have my ways. Connections.”
The drive passes in silence. I stare out the window at the rolling hills and crumbling villas. Maybe I could enjoy this view if this would be a vacation and not… this.
What will I say to Chris? What will he say to me? Will we be like before? Him calling me love? I don’t want that.
After what seems an eternity, Connor slows the car, turning off the main road. A massive stone structure looms up ahead, guard towers visible atop the outer wall.
The prison.