42. Mary
Chapter 42
Mary
My heart leaps into my throat as we approach the gates. The time has come to face the man who deceived me, who broke my heart into a thousand pieces.
The man I once thought I loved.
The gates creak open, and we drive through. Connor parks outside the squat concrete building and turns off the engine.
We sit for a moment, neither ready to break the stillness that’s settled within the confines of the vehicle.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice is gentle, his hand a warm weight on my knee.
“A bit late to back out now, don’t you think?”
Connor’s thumb brushes over my knee, a soothing gesture at odds with the turbulence inside me. “We can leave if you’ve changed your mind. ”
I wiggle my leg, his hand retreating. “No, I need to do this.” The words feel hollow, but a part of me still yearns for the closure I’ve been denied.
His lips are pressed into a grim line. “I’ll be right there with you.” There’s a weight to his promise that extends far beyond this moment.
We go inside, the soles of my boots echoing on the tiled floor. A guard sits behind a desk, regarding us as we enter. He and Connor exchange a few words in Italian before he buzzes us through a metal door.
We enter a sterile visitation room filled with rows of booths, each separated by a pane of bulletproof glass. Inmates in faded jumpsuits sit behind the thick glass, speaking to visitors through phones. Connor’s hand rests lightly on my hip, a protective and reassuring gesture.
Chris appears on the other side of the glass. I would recognize him everywhere because I spent hours zooming in on the photos he sent me.
His hair is longer, a scraggly beard obscuring the lower half of his face, but those eyes are unmistakable, blue as the sky, and flick to mine. Shock. Longing. Remorse. Tainted by the knowledge of what he planned to do to me.
I falter in my steps, torn between moving forward and turning to flee. But I didn’t come all this way to run. I came for answers. For closure.
I take one step after another and sit down at the booth. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other .
Then Chris picks up the phone, his lips curving into a smile, both predatory and apologetic. Months ago, I would have smiled back.
“Could you give us a minute?” I ask Connor.
At first, he doesn’t move, scowling at Chris, but then, with a reluctant nod, he steps back and leans against the wall on the other side, remaining within sight.
I pick up the phone as well, the cool plastic unfamiliar against my ear. “Hello, Chris.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s so good to see you.”
I glance at Connor, who watches us intently. According to him, Chris is a master manipulator. But right now, he seems so genuine, so relieved.
Could Connor have been wrong about him?
“I wish I could say the same,” I reply, my voice cool despite the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me. “But considering the circumstances…”
Chris leans forward, his elbows resting on the small ledge. “I know you must have questions. I’ll answer anything you want to know.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “Did you… did you really plan to drug me that night? ”
Chris’s eyes widen, his face a mask of innocence. “What? No, of course not! I would never do that to you, Mary. You have to believe me.”
I want to believe him, but the doubt lingers, a bitter taste on my tongue. “Then why are you here?”
He leans closer, his breath fogging the glass. “It’s all a misunderstanding. I was set up. Someone’s trying to keep us apart.”
I peer at Connor, who watches us with a stony expression.
“Who is he, anyway? Your new boyfriend?” Chris asks.
“He’s… a friend.”
“A friend who brings you to visit your ex in prison? Sounds more like a jealous lover to me.”
I bristle at the insinuation. “It’s not like that.” And we were never together. How can Chris call himself my ex?
“Then what is it like? Because from behind this glass, it looks like he’s trying to control you.”
My jaw clenches. “You don’t know anything about him.”
He holds up his hand in a placating gesture. “I’m just looking out for you. I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I laugh, a harsh, brittle sound. “You care about me? Is that why you lied to me for months, why you planned to drug me and do God knows what else?”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him. “I told you, that’s not true. I would never hurt you. I love you. Please, you have to help me. ”
I want to. A part of me still cares for him, still hopes there’s some truth to his words. But the facts don’t lie. And neither does the calculating glint in his eyes.
“What’s my favorite food?”
“What? I—We never really talked about favorites like that.”
“My favorite color? Favorite book or movie?” I press. “You said you love me. So tell me, what are my favorites?”
His eyes dart away for a second, and the warmth has disappeared. “I don’t actually know those kinds of details about you anymore.”
A bitter taste spreads in my mouth. “Because you were never interested in me as a person. I was just a means to an end, wasn’t I?”
“Mary, no. I cared about you.” But the words sound hollow.
“Tell me about our first conversation. What did we talk about?”
He leans back in his chair, feigning thoughtfulness. “We talked about… dreams, goals.” His words are vague, a shot in the dark.
Those blue eyes that once made my heart skip a beat, now just look cold and calculating. The charming smile that used to make me weak in the knees is nothing more than a mask.
“No, Chris. We talked about art, remember? The painting you wrote me about because I posted it?” I lean closer to the glass, seeking the man who once spoke with such passion, but all I see is an imposter wearing his face .
“Right, right, the art.” His confidence falters, and there it is—the crack in his facade that lets the light of truth seep through.
“What was the last thing you told me before we would have met in person?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I told you. I couldn’t wait to see you.”
“You said, ‘Blue will always be my favorite color’.” Chris had never said these words, but Connor did.
“Right, sorry I forgot. The circumstances here aren’t the best. Mary, listen—”
“Are you going to tell me the truth?” My voice cracks, betraying the turmoil inside.
As Chris opens his mouth to answer, I brace myself for—
“I love you. Please, you have to get me out of—”
I slam the phone down, the clatter echoing in the sterile room. My hands tremble, the world tilting on its axis. “You’re not the man I thought you were. You’re just a liar. A fraud.”
Connor is instantly at my side, wrapping me in the warmth of his embrace. I cling to him, vision blurred by tears, as the last remnants of my illusions about Chris fade away into nothing. Months of texting fade into nothing.
“Blue, are you okay?” Connor says.
“Please get me out of here.”
We’re almost at the door when Chris bangs against the glass.
I glance back .
“I knew it. He’s your new boyfriend.” Chris nods towards Connor. “Did he tell you all this? The lies? He’s not who you think, either. He put me in here.” A twisted smile appears on his lips. “Did Lover Boy tell you the truth about what he does?”
“That’s enough,” Connor growls.
“He’s not the white knight you think he is,” Chris says.
“I know. He is not my white knight,” I say.
“See. Don’t go with him, Mary. Get me out. Please.”
I stare at Chris.
Get him out? Is he kidding me? After everything he’s done, after all the lies and manipulation, he has the audacity to ask for my help?
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. This is so fucked up. Here I am, standing in a prison in fucking Italy, face to face with the man I thought I loved. The man who was going to drug me, kidnap me, do God knows what else to me. And he wants me to save him?
My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms. The pain grounds me, keeps me from completely losing my shit. I want to scream, to rage, to smash that glass separating us and wipe that pleading look off his face.
But I don’t. Instead, I suddenly feel nothing. Empty. Like all the emotions I’ve been carrying around for months have evaporated.
God, how could I have been so fucking stupid? How did I fall for his bullshit? I want to kick myself for being so naive and so trusting. But then again, isn’t that what he counted on? My willingness to see the good in people, to believe in love and happy endings?
Well, fuck that. And fuck him.
“Blue, let’s get out of here.” Connor’s eyes plead with mine, but I walk back and pick up the phone.
“You’re right. He is no angel, no knight in shining armor. Connor is my stalker. He deceived me by showing up in your place. He fucked me and then left that shitty morning. Months later, he is back in my life and turns it upside down. But he…” loves me, and I love him. “He at least knows what the fuck I like to eat.”
Chris stares at me, not saying anything, as I place the phone with the utmost care back into the holder and turn away.
“Blue.” Connor reaches out, and I sense the hesitation in him, the fear of overstepping.
But I don’t have the strength to reassure him right now, not when my own world is crumbling. So, I just walk past him through the corridors.
I exit the prison, the Italian sun harsh and unforgiving, shining down on me. It’s as if I’m seeing everything for the first time. The lies, the deception, and the grim reality.
My chest tightens, each breath a struggle. The world spins, blurring at the edges. Not now. I can’t lose it here, in this godforsaken parking lot of an Italian prison.
My legs wobble, threatening to give out. I lean against the sun-baked concrete wall, its rough surface grounding me momentarily. But it’s not enough. The panic claws at my insides, threatening to tear me apart.
I whirl around, desperate for something, anything, to anchor me.
And there he is. Connor.
His eyes lock onto mine, steady and unwavering.
The tightness in my chest eases a fraction. I breathe in, focusing on his face. The strong jaw, the slight furrow between his brows. Those eyes that promise me the world. He sees it all. The anger, the hurt, the crippling sense of betrayal that’s become my constant companion. And underneath it all, the traitorous flicker of something deeper that I can’t seem to extinguish no matter how hard I try.
“Mary.” His voice is low and soothing.
And just like that, the panic recedes enough for me to breathe again. To think.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Am I? I’ve just confronted the man I thought I loved, only to discover he never existed. The real Chris is a lying, manipulative asshole who would’ve drugged me given half a chance. And Connor…
Yes, he lied. Yes, he deceived me. But he also protected me. Loved me. Still loves me, if the concern in his eyes is anything to go by.
“Why did you leave that morning?” The words tumble out, raw and aching for answers. It’s been on the tip of my tongue day and night, but I fear the answer .
Connor takes a measured breath. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d wake up and see me and want him instead.”
“Want Chris?”
He nods, the lines of his face etched with remorse. “I wanted you to know me. Just Connor. Not some illusion or a substitute for someone else.” A flicker of vulnerability crosses his features. “I still do.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was you. Just as you are. No masks, no lies, no disguises between us. Can you give me that? Can you promise to be honest with me from now on?”
“No more lies. I promise you that. Can we start over, Blue?”
Connor. The man who saved me from a fate I didn’t even know awaited me, the man who now stands before me, regret written all over him.
My heart is torn between anger and sorrow. He has betrayed my trust, just as Chris had. Yet Connor is the one I turn to for comfort, the one I need.
“Can we go?” I ask.
“Of course.”