Chapter 15 The Third Option
THE THIRD OPTION
QUINTON
“What do you mean you’re leaving?”
Emery stands in front of me, a shell of herself. Weak. Quiet. Sad. It hurts my heart seeing her so faded, so damn defeated. She avoids eye contact, her body visibility shrinking as she lets out a frustrated sigh.
“I can’t do this, Quin,” she mutters. “It’s not… It’s not fair to you. To…” She swallows. “To Damon. I-I need to leave. I need to leave before I end up hurting both of you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me.” And I believe it. Every word.
She tilts her head, finally allowing her green eyes to connect with mine. “Your confidence is admirable, Quin. But it’s rooted in something that doesn’t exist. I could hurt you. So badly. I don’t…” Pain mars her brows. “I don’t understand why you’d risk that…for me.”
My gut clenches. How could she not understand? How can she stand there and doubt my devotion, however complicated? I’d rather get burned every time she touches me than not feel her at all. Her uncertainty will be the death of us. She’s already withdrawing. The light I’ve grown to love is dimming.
I did this to her.
We both did.
I step closer, unable to bear the distance between us.
"Emery," I say, gentle but unwavering. "I know we’ve put you in an incredibly difficult position, and it’s not easy, I know it’s not.
But what we have? What we can potentially grow into?
It’s remarkable. It’s something that’s worth fighting for, and this is me… fighting for you."
She looks up at me, and my pulse quickens.
Emery has two sides. One side is fire, full of confidence and life.
But it’s the other side I’ve grown to admire, the side she rarely shows to the outside world.
But I’ve seen it. Her vulnerability. She’s afraid of that side.
She’s afraid of showing it, sharing it, loving it.
Emery’s lips part but words elude her. Instead, she takes a small step closer, her hand trembling as it reaches for mine.
Our fingers brush, and in that simple touch, the world tilts.
Emery's doubts and fears haven't vanished, but perhaps she's willing to let go, to trust in the fragile magic of our relationship.
I offer her a small, hopeful smile, not demanding an immediate answer but simply extending an invitation to entertain the uncertainty.
"Stay," I say softly. "Stay for the New Year's Eve party, Emery, and if you still feel like leaving in the morning, I’ll have the jet ready for you. But just for tonight, take the risk. Take the risk and stay.”
I wish I could hear her thoughts. I wish I could tap into her subconscious mind, be privy to her process, to that gorgeous brain as it churns with deliberation. She can’t leave. I know what her departure would mean. I know she’d be steadfast in her decision.
She’d be running away from me.
From him.
And at this point, with that scary look in her eyes, I’m not sure either of us would be able to catch her again.
“Just for tonight,” she whispers. “Then I’m leaving.”
I need to change that.
We… We need to change that.
The study reeks of betrayal and brandy as I walk in, and I clench my fist, unwilling for the past to dictate my future. Damon’s head snaps up from behind a newspaper, expression stormy, his dark eyes flashing with contempt.
“You’re alone,” I note, surprised not to find Maya hovering around him. “Where’s your…friend?”
“I got bored,” he says, tone sharp and defensive. “Why do you care?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I sit in the armchair in front of him. “I care for the same reason you care, Damon.” I pause for a loaded beat before stating, “Emery’s leaving.”
Damon sits up, shoulders stiff. “Leaving?” His voice is so hoarse he has to clear his throat. “What do you mean she’s leaving?”
“Just that,” I say. “She’s leaving. I convinced her to stay one more night, but tomorrow, she wants to leave. She said she can’t do this anymore. That it’s not fair to either of us.”
He shoots me a piercing look, his jaw clenching. "Well, I appreciate the update. You can go now."
I take a deep breath, my temples pulsing by his lack of authenticity. "It’s our fault, Cavanaugh. We did this to her. We… We’re making her choose. We’re making her decide when she’s nowhere near ready."
Damon’s lip twitches. “The choice is easy, Quinton. She’ll come to her senses eventually.”
I sigh. He’s impossible. Always had been. “Or perhaps it’s time for us to come to our senses.” My gaze floats to the grandfather clock hanging above the mantle. “We’ve been here before, Cavanaugh. We both know there’s a third option.”
“Over my dead body,” he spits. “There is no third option.”
My composure crashes. “Stop being so fucking selfish, Cavanaugh,” I bark. “For once in your life, think about someone else for a change.”
“Oh, don’t act like some fucking martyr, Quinton,” Damon seethes. “You’re just as selfish as I am. You’re afraid to lose her, admit it. You can see her drifting away from you. You see it so fucking clearly, and that's why you’re sitting here, trying to convince me to share.”
My teeth clench. Idiot. He’s a goddamn moron. “I would rather have a part of her than none of her.”
Damon scoffs. “That’s because you know you don’t deserve any of her. You should be grateful she even offered you a fucking crumb.”
“If she leaves…” My tone softens with the sad realization of reality. “If she leaves, Cavanaugh, we both lose her. That’s a fact. And you know it.”
“So surrender,” he says, glowering at me.
“Be a true martyr and give her up.” He cocks his head as I shift uncomfortably.
“What? You can’t? You can’t let her go, can you?
Do you know why, Quinton? Because you’re just as selfish as I am.
” He flaps the newspaper, burrowing his nose back in the arts section.
“We’ve always had that in common, Q. It’s why we could never make the third option work. ”
My hands curl into fists as I stand up, towering over him as I state in a harsh, even whisper, “I won’t surrender, Cavanaugh, because I know she loves me.”
Damon stiffens as if he’s been punched in the gut. “Did she—”
“She didn’t have to,” I say. “Not everything requires a label.”
“Wha—”
I don’t let him finish his thought as I exit the study. She loves me. And she also loves him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t want to leave. She’d stay. She’d stay and play our filthy little games. But she loves us.
She’s the one surrendering.
New Year’s Eve is meant to bring hope, a promise of a fresh start. But as a symphony of soft classical music fills the ballroom, the melancholy melody tugging at my heart, I don’t feel as though we are celebrating a new beginning but a devastating ending.
I wait impatiently for Emery at the bottom of the grand staircase, willing the universe to weave a different tale.
She cannot leave. She cannot close this chapter, this book.
She cannot throw it all away. My throat strains as she appears at the top of the landing, her white chiffon dress swaying with every hesitant step she walks toward the final curtain.
I’d say she looks like an angel. But angels are seldom this sad.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” I say, offering her my arm to escort her into the ballroom.
“Sophie picked it out,” Emery mutters, and my sister’s name twists my stomach with unease. Though Emery hasn’t revealed the catalyst for her impending departure, I know my sister was involved. I should be furious with her meddling, but some people show love in strange, destructive ways.
“It’s lovely,” I say as notes of a waltz sound around us, the dance floor beckoning us like a supportive friend.
Like an ally that wishes for peace instead of turmoil.
If she’s leaving tomorrow, I want to simply hold her.
For as long as I can. With a small, tender smile, I ask, "May I have this dance? "
She hesitates for a moment, her wary gaze searching mine, and then she nods, giving me her hand. I hold it tight, knowing that she’s slowly slipping away. As we step onto the dance floor, she draws in a sharp, nervous breath, and I place my palm on her waist.
“Relax, darling,” I whisper. “And follow my lead.”
There are dozens of eyes on us, but I only see her. I only feel her. Nothing else matters. This moment is everything. It’s the stars and the sun and moon. In this moment, I can feel the entire wonder of the cosmos. It lives in her. In her eyes. And I’d swim in those irises for eons if I could.
I lead Emery across the dance floor, holding her tight, willing her to stay.
We exchange no words, no sounds. I can feel the warmth of her hand in mine, the way she trusts me to keep her safe.
Everything else fades. Everyone gone. It’s only us, the music, and the decisions that have led us to this bittersweet moment.
In the silence of our steadfast connection, her guard lowers, slowly at first, but then it drops completely and she finally graces me with her all-consuming smile.
“What are you thinking right now?”
“Nothing,” she says, cheeks blushing. “I’m just surprised that I haven’t tripped yet.”
I release a soft chuckle. “Two left feet?”
“I resent that,” she counters with a grin. “I’m actually a fairly coordinated woman.”
“Then why would you trip?”
“Because…” Her eyes break away from mine and sweep across the ballroom. “Because there are a lot of people staring at us. If you haven’t noticed, we’re the only people dancing.”
I draw her a little closer to me. “Let them stare. They could probably learn a thing or two.” Emery gives in, nestling her head on my chest. “It’s just you and me right now, darling. No one else.”
“But there is someone else, isn’t there?” She lets out a labored breath as we sway together. “I love dancing with you, Quin,” she whispers. “I-I love doing everything with you.” She pulls away slightly, glancing up at me through nearly damp lashes, and I swallow. “What time will the jet be ready?”
“Don’t do this, Emery,” I plead as the music intensifies. “There’s a solution. There is always a solution.”
“You’re such an optimist, Quin,” she says. “It’s one of my favorite things about you. You have this ability to…to make me genuinely believe that everything will be okay. That everything will work out.”
“Optimism can be learned, Emery,” I say. “It’s not an inherent quality that you either have or you don’t. It’s not something unattainable.” I tilt my head. “Things can work out, darling, but you must believe that they will.”
“Damon once called me a nihilist,” she reveals, gaze distant. “Did I learn that, Quin? Did I do this to myself?”
My grip around her waist tightens. “No, I don’t believe so,” I say, scanning her skeptical features.
“I…” My heart aches, but I keep a steady tone, pushing down the pain of loss.
“I-I once knew a patient who received a very devastating terminal prognosis. They…they were going to die, Emery. They had less than eight months to live. But-but instead of waiting quietly for death, that patient made a deliberate choice to embrace life with a sense of joy, with a sense of hope.”
Emery swallows searching my gaze, and I think she knows.
I continue, voice raw, almost cracking. “They ended up living two years longer than the prognosis. This patient extended their life through hope, Emery. They didn’t give up. They didn’t stop fighting.”
A pained look crosses her weary features. “Your mother?”
I bite back tears. “Yes, my mum.”
“I’m sorry, Quin,” she whispers, squeezing my hand a little bit tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
We pause in the middle of the dance floor as the music softens, the song ending.
So many endings. “You can’t control your circumstances, Emery, but you can control the way you react to it.
” I tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ears, cupping her warm cheek as I say, “If your eyes remain closed, darling, you will only ever see darkness.”
“What if I’m too scared to open them?” she whispers, and I feel him approaching us. “What if the light blinds me?”
“It might.” I tense as his cologne permeates around us. “But you will adjust. Just like you’ve adjusted to the dark, you’ll adjust to the light. And eventually, it’ll become your new normal.”
Emery swallows, gaze snapping over my shoulder.
“Can I steal you for a moment?” Damon asks. I keep my back turned to him, refusing to let him faze me. “I’d like to show you something.”
Emery looks at me, and I nod. I’ll never chain her, never cage her.
“Fine,” she mutters to Damon, slipping out of my hold. “Just for a moment.”
And then she disappears into the darkness she’s called home for far too long.