Chapter 15 #2
“Gosh, how have you been, Vivienne? It’s been so long?” Cassandro opens his arms wide as he approaches me.
I cringe at the sound of my name on his lips, taking a step to the side to dodge his incoming hug. His smile falters for a millisecond, then snaps back at an even brighter wattage.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with an awkward laugh. “Last I knew, you were taking the LSAT and studying for that entrepreneurship final.”
That’s how long ago we broke up, and that’s how little I’d kept up with his life over the years.
“Why don’t we chat about that over coffee? I’m sure there are so many things we need to catch up on.”
All this time invested in trying to fix you, and this is how you repay me? By breaking up with me? Good luck finding someone who’ll deal with your problems.
For someone who left with such strong words, he’s bold for coming back. Not to mention, he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. New York City aside, this neighborhood is mostly residential—the community center and the nearby farmers’ market being the only exceptions.
“I’m actually waiting for someone. I can’t go far,” I try to reason with him.
“Come on! A little time out of your day won’t hurt anybody. Is that really such a way to treat your first love?”
Honestly, you just saved me a shit ton of time. I felt bad for wanting to break up with you, anyway.
First love, my ass.
My eyes narrow in on his as I try to determine his motive.
His smile is too wide. His eyes are gleaming like he’s ready to pounce. I’ve only seen that look once before—when his grandmother passed away and left him a hefty inheritance.
“Fine!” Cassandro finally seems to settle. “We can catch up while you wait for your so-called someone.” He looks back at the heavily bushed corner across the street. “Do you remember the first time we met in English class?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest on a sigh, tired of whatever he’s trying to do already. “Honestly, I don’t remember, and I don’t care—this street isn’t called memory lane. Cut to the chase, Cassandro. What do you want?”
His lips fall into a flat line with an expressionless look. He isn’t impressed by my behavior at all, but I couldn’t care less.
“Look.” His voice suddenly hardens. “I’ve been thinking about our time together, and I want to give us another shot. I fucked up badly, I know, but I was young and na?ve. I’ve come to realize how good we were together, and how much I missed you. Missed us.”
I let out a dry, cynical laugh before I can stop it. “Do I need to remind you of what you said to me when our relationship ended?”
Another turn in the direction of that bushy corner.
At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but now, not so much. As far as I can tell, nothing is there—only a long row of townhomes.
Regardless of what it could be, this conversation is officially over.
I take a step in the opposite direction, ready to walk away, when a hand latches onto my wrist.
This time, it isn’t gentle like Alex’s when he was looking at my engagement ring or fiery like Nate’s when he’s reassuring me. It’s cold. Authoritative. And as harshly as I jerk my hand back, he only grips on harder.
“Let. Me. Go.” My free hand clutches my arm, every ounce of strength focused on pulling away.
“No can do.”
When my third attempt fails, his devilish grin widens. It isn’t long after that his arm snakes around my waist, and his other hand grips onto my jaw. Before I can say anything, chapped lips press against mine. My eyes widen from the shock, and every bone in my body seems to freeze.
With closed lids, Cassandro licks the seam of my mouth, asking for entrance while I grimace at the wet sensation. I do my best to push him away again, and again, until he finally stumbles back.
Relief washes over me as I draw fresh air into my lungs. But it’s not until I look forward that I realize I had nothing to do with getting him off me.
“Nate.” A sense of ease flickers through me at the sight of him, but he doesn’t pay me any mind. His deathly gaze is strained on the man he’s holding by the collar of his coat.
Cassandro looks startled at first, but his expression morphs into a lottery-winning smile. Nate’s thick, unyielding fingers wrap around his neck, forcing a cough out of him before they finally release.
Seconds drag by in a tense silence. From the scowl on Nate’s face, I’m almost certain he’s going to strike Cassandro in the jaw. But eventually his resolve shatters.
“Go.” Nate releases Cassandro so harshly that he hurls forward, his arms barely stopping his face from hitting the ground.
The two-letter word uttered is harsh—a command—one that Cassandro doesn’t seem to register as he turns on his back, staring mindlessly at the man who towers over him, in both height and in bulk.
“I said—go!” Nate yells again.
This time, Cassandro bolts.
My feet stay rooted in place, but my eyes follow the billowing trench coat as his pace slows.
You’d think he’d have kept up his run, been scared as to what might happen to his life, but there’s a newfound pep to his step. He throws a thumbs-up in the bush’s direction, and something—or someone, should I say—rustles out.
Dressed in black from head to toe. A large, chunky camera held in his hand. The obvious hole carved out of that bush to accommodate it.
I turn to Nate, my mouth parted in shock. His dark-green eyes hit me like a crashing wave—anger, betrayal, sadness, it’s all written within them.
“I know it’s the oldest line in the book, but I swear it isn’t what it looks like.” The words tumble out in a rush. “There was a camera on the other side of the street, and I’m thinking it was all a bigger plan to—”
“I believe you.”
My heartbeat stops. Despite the little time we’ve spent together, the man still trusts me enough to believe my side of the story.
“There’s going to be pictures of you kissing another man on the internet,” Nate says.
It’s a statement. With no emotion. No anger. Blank. Just the facts laid out on the table. And none of it was good. For Nate’s reputation. For the credibility of our engagement. For the friendship we’ve started to forge.
I wipe my lips on the back of my hand, disgust rippling through me. At the movement, Nate’s eyes drop to my mouth before he inhales deeply. I take a step forward, arm halfway out to offer some reassurance, when his phone rings.
His face turns ghostly at the sight of the Caller ID.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“It’s my mom.”
His thumb hovers over the decline button, and I see the war going on through his mind. He let her go to voicemail the last time we were together, and I’m assuming he’s done it many times since.
Eventually, he decides to answer, apparently doing me the favor of putting it on speaker.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?” There’s an obvious hesitation in his tone.
“Hey, Nate. Gosh, your dad and I can’t even begin to express how much we’ve missed you…Richard,” she yells. “Come say hi.”
Soon, a deep voice booms through the line. “Well, hello, son. Care to explain why you haven’t called recently? We aren’t getting any younger, just so you know,” he chuckles.
The words themselves aren’t the greatest, but it’s apparent that they’re coming from a place of amusement and love. Nate seems to take them to heart, though, as guilt settles in his expression.
“I’m sorry for missing so many calls and family dinners. I’ve missed you both so much—it’s just been…so hectic lately…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” his mom reassures. “Actually, it’s one of the reasons we’re calling. We wanted to hear about that fa—fiancée of yours. What was her name again, Richard?”
Both our eyes widen at the words before Nate’s soften in deep sadness and regret.
This was the one thing he’d been avoiding all along—his big-on-love parents asking about us. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell the truth either, so he avoided it altogether.
“Vivienne. Her name is Vivienne.” Nate doesn’t wait for his father’s response.
“That’s right! Vivienne! What a pretty name for such a pretty girl.
We didn’t want to bring up the topic of meeting her under these circumstances, but with the cheating allegations that came out, we wanted to assure you that we don’t believe any of it.
You’re a great guy, Nate—we raised you well—and know you’d pick an equally great girl. ”
My mind is spinning in circles as the information registers.
Cheating.
Allegations.
If the pictures were taken mere minutes ago, how did the news come out so quickly?
A quick search through the horrible place that is the internet confirms her words to be true. An exclusive article was published less than ten minutes ago, along with the picture that no-good paparazzi managed to catch of Cassandro forcing himself on me.
The headline, naturally, does not reflect the truth.
Nate Archer’s Fiancée Caught Kissing Longtime University Boyfriend with Her Ring Off —A How-To Guide on Ruining a PR Engagement Before It Even Starts.
Melanie’s words about taking off the ring slam through my ears, and I slip it back on right then and there, ashamed I hadn’t kept her in mind.
“Regardless, we’d love to meet her soon,” Nate’s mom continues.
The silence between us is deafening. We both know that was never going to happen.
“Sounds good, Mom. We’ll see when we can make it happen.”
“Wonderful! Does tonight work? Dinner at our place?”
Nate grows quiet once again.
I look up, seeing the gears turning in his head—crafting what I can only imagine is the best way of breaking the truth to them.
When he finally says, “We’d love to. See you later tonight, Mom and Dad,” and an excited squeal erupts from the other end of the line, my heart plummets to the ground.
I was about to meet my fake fiancé’s family—the same one he had no intention of introducing me to.