Chapter 21 Lilly
TWENTY-ONE
LILLY
I just finish unpacking when there’s a knock on my door. When I open it to see my dad standing there, I force my lips into a smile, knowing I will lie about my vacation by omitting the biggest part—Ian.
I already miss him. It’s been only a few minutes of separation, but the loss weighs heavily on me, pushing me down into the pits of misery.
Surprisingly, my dad hangs around until dinner time. I cook something light, but my father looks at the salad with eyes filled with appreciation. When I get a text from Ian, I reply quickly. My father’s presence reinforces my thinking that a bit of time apart is the best decision.
I am on autopilot, moving around robotically.
We eat our meal in silence when his phone pings and his eyes darken, his brow furrowing.
“These guys are going to turn me gray,” he says, shaking his head at his phone.
Trepidation stills my heartbeats. “What happened?”
He shows me his phone. My heart sinks when I see Ian with glassy eyes, holding a beer. He has been photographed with two different women by his side. I try to make sense of it. I zoom in on the photos with trembling fingers.
“Do you know if he has relationship troubles? It’s always a woman involved when an excellent player goes off the rails.”
There are too many thoughts crowding my mind to make sense.
My father’s words linger, and I gulp. “Why would you say that?”
He looks at me with a raised brow. He was a player once too.
Guilt treads through my muddled thoughts. If Dad only knew that I was the reason for Ian’s uncharacteristic behavior.
“Guess the first OTAs will include a reminder to not act stupid. At times, it feels like I am coaching a bunch of high school kids.”
After my father leaves, the volcano of emotions breaks free. Like I’m possessed, I scroll through the gossip sites on my phone. The sudden stress skyrockets my blood pressure, and I don’t rule out the possibility of a heart attack.
My fault. This is my fault. Yet, jealousy rears its monstrous head, ripping through my sanity. Who are these women? Did something happen? Did he have enough of me?
My heart refuses to believe that, while my mind tries to piece the jumbled puzzle into a clear image. We didn’t have a fight, per se, but this is how he’s going to behave? Partying, drinking, and putting himself in these types of situations.
It feels like I am losing my best friend and the man I love all at once.
Tears spill down my face as I lift my feet onto the edge of the chair, hugging my legs. The vacation was a tectonic shift in our relationship. We could never return to how things were. That’s impossible, just like us.
Heartbreak. I thought I had gone through it twice, but in comparison, those breakups felt more like a prelude to what I am experiencing now.
Three days have passed by with a snap of the finger. Ian hasn’t sought me out, and I’ve been relieved one second and upset the other.
I insisted we needed a break, some distance, but I am barely holding on. I’ve typed hundreds of texts to him only to delete them. I pressed call, only to hang up before the first ring rang through even more.
It’s Sunday night. Propped against the window, I scan the entrance of the building. I don’t even know why I torture myself like this. By tomorrow, I need to pull myself together and give my best to the shop.
My best friend calls and I answer with a sigh.
“He’s still not back?” she asks softly.
“No,” I scoff. “That must have been a hell of a party. I guess I’m forgettable compared to the two models.” Jealousy prevails, and I don’t care about showing it.
He could have called, said something. We’re still friends, right? Can I really be friends with someone I love this much? We blurred the lines for good.
“Maybe this was the wake-up call I needed,” I grumble.
“Lilly, shut up. Did you call him?”
“No.”
She sighs. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I’m fine.” I am stuck on a very unhealthy program, watching for his return and perusing every gossip site. I don’t need any distractions. Someone check my mental state.
“I’m here for you, bestie. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Kat.”
I end the call, hurling my phone onto the couch, needing a break from stalking him online.
The moon is high in the sky, but clouds cast a shadow on the dimly illuminated street.
When I see the Uber stop at the curb, my comatose heart leaps in my chest. I watch him stepping out of the car, his eyes trailing up the building. He can’t see me, but I feel his stare searching for me. I pull the curtains, breathing a long exhale.
He’s home, he’s safe. Good.
I can calm down and return to pretending Ian doesn’t consume my every thought and own every heartbeat.
I pace to exorcise every bit of restlessness. Rein yourself in. Temptation will ruin everything. The words of my father clamor into my head. I don’t want to be a cause of misery for Ian, or why his mind is not in the game.
A knock sounds, and I startle, my back hitting the wall.
His gruff voice seeps through. “I know you’re there.”
I can’t make my mouth open. Maybe if I don’t answer, he’ll go away.
“I have the spare key to yours.”
I forgot about that part. Untangling ourselves from our friendship is harder than if we’d been in a relationship.
I square my shoulders, taking deep breaths. I am in control of my emotions. But the moment I open the door, they flood me.
His midnight eyes, with bags spreading beneath them, create a storm that ravages my insides. His hands brace the door frame, his muscles tensing behind his shirt. Pinning me with a frustrated yet cautious stare, his chest heaves with ragged breathing.
I make the mistake of inhaling, and his scent envelops my senses, awakening memories of sensual times and homey feelings.
I squeeze my eyes shut and, through gritted teeth, I say, “Have fun?” Great, everything I set myself not to appear spills out—a jealous girlfriend.
I cross my arms over my chest to create a shield. I doubt I could ever keep him out, though. He’s embedded in my heartstrings.
Ian pushes himself off the frame, shifting on his feet.
“Let’s go back to our place.”
It hits me right in the chest, arrows dipped in dreams that make me bleed from my forlorn heart.
“That’s your place.”
He arches a brow. “Stubborn still?”
Oh, he did not just say that. He wants a fight, I’ll give him a fight.
“I’m not stubborn. You looked pretty cozy with those women. Got back to your usual type?” My voice breaks at the end, betraying me.
There’s a tic in his jaw. One second, his jaw clenches, closing his eyes for a moment, the next he comes for me. Scooping me up by my ass, he throws me over his shoulder. Yelping in surprise, I hang over his back, pinching his ass.
“Put me down, you caveman.”
He doesn’t listen as he opens his door and places me down, blocking my exit.
I feel too safe with him to ever be scared, but I still huff. My indignation is more for show, though. “This is kidnapping.”
“No, this is me putting my foot down.” There’s finality in his voice.
I stick my nose in the air, apparently going for difficult. “I’m not staying.”
“We’ll see about that. Now, let’s go back to you being jealous over nothing.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I was drunk.”
“Yes, what every woman wants to hear. I was drunk,” I mutter.
“Let me finish. I was mad at you for being this fucking stubborn. I went to the sports bar, and I got drunk. I’m not proud of that, but I needed an outlet…”
Guilt spoon-feeds me, I might choke on the bitter taste. I am a bad influence. Even if he doesn’t want to see it. That knowledge hurts more than my jealousy ever could.
“I met with Roman. He knows about us, by the way,” he says nonchalantly while I am freaking out.
“That’s two people already,” I screech.
“People I trust, and I don’t give a fuck if your father finds out.” He inhales a lungful of air as he walks toward the kitchen. I watch the door, yet my feet stay planted.
He sends me an intense stare over his shoulder, “Dare to leave and I’ll bring you right back—willing or not. I’m past that. I dare you to challenge me right now.”
I believe him.
Groaning, I march after him to the kitchen.
He takes a bottle of water from the fridge, gulping it down before he continues his story, “He had the brilliant idea to take his yacht out. There was a party I didn’t know about. Nothing happened, I swear. He got rid of them and we sailed down the coast for the following days.”
His stance carries no trace of deceit. His eyes seek mine—open and trustworthy.
“What am I going to do with you, flower girl?”
For my eyes, a bifurcated road splits. I see it clearly.
One would take me straight to him, consequences be damned. The other would mean the end. The end of our friendship and all the what-ifs.
I feel the heartbreak spreading like an incurable sickness, killing my insides slowly.
I force my tears back. “Ian. We need a break.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “We haven’t even started dating and you want to break things off?”
I whisper, “We can’t keep lying to ourselves.”
His jaw sets in a hard line. “Is this because of your father?”
I nod even though I keep to myself the biggest reason is that my dad’s words prompted me to gain clarity. Those pics showed me our love could overrule common sense.
We would fight like every couple does, and then I’d have to watch him do things that jeopardized his image and his career. My dad always played worse when my parents got into an argument. Why did I let myself forget that?
In three strides, he erases the distance between us. He tugs me to his chest, and I close my eyes, wishing he would seal me to him.
“Let me talk to your dad. We deserve to see where this progresses. Don’t give up on me because I behaved like a sulking idiot.”
I smile against his chest, placing a tender kiss. “You’re amazing, Ian. One day, you’re going to make a fortunate woman even luckier.”
“I want that woman to be you.” His voice rises, and I peel myself from his hold. I must go before I lose the fight with my emotions.
I take an unsteady step back, away from him. With every step, my heart beats slower, protesting my decision.
I am at the door, gripping the handle, when Ian stops me by saying, “I thought you were brave. A woman who goes after what she wants.”
“I am,” I whisper.
“I guess, then, I am the one who’s not worth the fight.”
I leave before I say more, like I love you. You’re worth everything. But I am not the woman who’ll hold you back. I refuse to do and be that.
With blurry eyes, I stumble through my apartment door.
I no longer like this space. He’s not here. It doesn’t feel familiar; it seems temporary and not home.
I throw myself on the bed, curling myself in a fetal position. Ugly sobs rip out of my chest. I cry until my lids grow heavy, repeating to myself it’s for the best. It must be.
No amount of concealer can hide the bags under my eyes. Still, I try because I am a grown-up who has to function even brokenhearted. My fault, again.
Opening my door, I discover another lily. I place it on his doorstep, hoping he will understand the message. He must stop.
All we did was lie that our friendship was platonic. Even when we started, with him sipping juice drinks and me holding flowers, we craved more, paving the way for more.
We just fooled ourselves into believing it was just a friendship. Our vacation proved that desire was there, rippling just below the surface, along with feelings so mighty they could alter the course of our lives.
In my car, I pull up a playlist for the broken-hearted, singing off-key while tears cascade down my cheeks. Good for me, I expected my breakdown, so I brought a small bag of makeup with me.
Parking in the back of the shop, I wipe at my eyelids, dabbing at the mascara running down my face. I look like a damn wet raccoon.
I am about to apply a fresh coat of concealer when my phone vibrates. His message is like a fist wrapping around my tender heart, suffocating yet pumping it back to life. The dichotomy is nothing new.
Thank you for the flower.
I hear his sarcasm loud and clear.
Ian, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be.
Are you fucking serious right now?
I don’t think he ever cursed in a text. Actually, he seldom curses, so that’s on me as well, proving my point that I am not good for his stability.
Ian will get over me. He had a life before me. He will have one after me as well. The thought scythes my life essence, the heartstrings leveling to the ground in a line of gravestones.
I had to fall in love with my one-night stand. There’s no one else to blame but me.
A knock on my window startles me, and I prick my eye with the mascara. I cry out—a high-pitched tone echoing with despair.
My best friend yanks the door open, letting out a horrified shriek. “Oh shit, I didn’t want to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” My voice sounds like I am—withered.
“Oh, babe,” she says sympathetically.
I cry in my hands. “Why is this so damn hard? We have barely been together.”
“You can’t quantify feelings.”
She stays with me until I compose myself, taking over the makeup.
“Tell me something to take my mind off Ian.”
She seeks my eyes. “Are wedding plans all right?”
I nod, happy for my best friend.
“Who’s going to be your plus one now?”
I expel a long breath. “It’s still several months away.”
She pins me with a hard look. “Knowing your dating history, that’s not a good example.”
We burst into laughter, and I ruin my mascara again. Leave it to my bestie to make the best out of my situation.
“I’m sure if your dad knew what his words caused, he would have reconsidered.”
I shrug. “I think he just wanted to remind me why I stayed away from athletes to begin with.”
We slip through the back door of the store, and Kat says, “Listen, bestie, who we fall in love with, we have little choice. Once we fall, all we can hope is that the other won’t smash us, but provide a safety net.”
“Will that be your vows?”
She slaps my arm playfully. “I come up with this stuff on the fly.”
“Okay, oh wise one.”
Smiling at my unapologetic best friend, I switch back to business mode.
Life goes on, not caring for your broken heart.
Throughout the day, it becomes clearer that I have the best team. They managed everything in my absence, making me think of the biggest dream I have been afraid to even write down.
I lock myself in the office, finalizing the plans for our second location. If I can focus all my energy, I will be successful.
With no personal life, I am sure I can achieve it.
No one will compare to Ian, so I’ll embrace singledom for good this time.