9. nine
nine
LYSANDRA
Red roses met my blurry vision once I opened the door, his hair almost got lost behind the colors of the bouquet.
It was Aldair.
I beamed at him as he popped out from behind the flowers. I noticed he’d been in his scrubs. There’d been slight dark circles under his emerald eyes. He must’ve just finished a shift at the hospital. It warmed my heart to think that he came here, first thing, after tiresome work hours.
Looking at him, a wide smile on his face, made me realize how he deserved better. Aldair deserved someone who didn’t fold at the sight of her ex-boyfriend. I had to erase Ezra from my mind, but the memory of him was too mesmerizing. It was an enchantment too difficult to break.
“You didn’t have to,” I said.
“Of course I did. Anything for my lady.” He embraced me; his scent reminded me of the fresh waves crashing on the beach sore. Odd, since we both hated the beach.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wished to surprise ya,” he said. “Camille told me how the meeting went last week. I would’ve come sooner, but I’ve been having back-to-back surgeries and post-ops. It’s all been a bit crazy.” Aldair rubbed my arm.
His gentleness reminded me of the night we met. Memories of that night consumed me.
2 YEARS AGO
Old men hooted and clinked their glasses as the bitter taste in my mouth ran down my throat.
Being back at The Black Orchid brought memories I wished to forget.
Perhaps I was being selfish; it was Camille’s birthday, and I shouldn’t have been making this day about myself.
Although I hadn’t uttered a word about my grief, I knew she was aware of my sorrow.
“We should get going,” Camille sighed, pushing herself upward.
“Come on, the wine is amazing here.”
“We have an early meeting tomorrow.”
I never imagined that it would be me who would be begging Camille to stay at the bar longer, but I hated everything about myself that evening. I wanted to drink until I couldn’t remember my own name.
Camille glared at me, and I groaned. “Fine.”
I stumbled to my feet, toppling my unfinished wine glass over the table linens. “Oops. Miriam’s gonna get mad.”
Camille gasped. “Let’s go before she realizes it was us.”
“Good idea,” I whispered. I scanned the vast dining area of The Black Orchid. People chattered and ate their prestigious Scottish meals. I hadn’t spotted the black-uniformed employees, nor my ex-boss. “We’re in the clear. Let’s go.”
Our heels clicked as we rushed out of the back door.
Miriam would surely burn us alive if she knew we spilled red wine over her white linens.
The splashes of the burgundy drink reminded me of scarlet paint splattered on a canvas.
That’s how I felt. Splattered on a broken canvas. My heart broken in me.
I laughed, condensed breaths leaving my lips as I leaned my head back, staring up at the starry evening.
“What’s got you laughing?” Camille said with a contorted smile. Her face seemed more like a clown's than a woman's. It would’ve been scary had I not been intoxicated, or maybe it was funny because I was drunk. Which made me laugh even more. I let out a raspberry blow.
We continued to skittle through the stoned streets of Edinburgh, cackling. People would glance at us with furrowed brows. Until my heel got stuck between a brick of the sidewalk. I pulled out my shoe from the crevices, twisting my ankle in the process. I fell to my knees, my stockings ripping.
I hissed when I felt a sting running down my thighs and hands. My palms were covered in hot crimson.
“Lys? You okay?” Camille asked, her azure stare ran wild. She’d been leaning down, holding onto my bloody hands.
“I’m okay. Just help me up.”
“Are you good to walk?” she questioned, leaning down to examine the scrapes on my knees.
I nodded. “I should be fine. Let’s just get home.”
“Alright,” she trailed off. Camille remained close to me, her arms wrapping around me as I took a step forward. But I only doubled over in pain and into her embrace. “What’s wrong?”
I yelped. “My ankle. I think I hurt it.”
“Let’s get you to the hospital.”
I leaned on my other foot as Camille neared the sidewalk, waving an arm for the incoming dashing cabs. A few moments later, a black cab stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. Camille guided me into the back of the car. “Novamed Hospital, please.”
“On it, pal.”
The ride to the hospital was a haze as the lights of the city blurred past me. I didn’t know if it was my heartache or the liquor that caused the illusion.
Perhaps going back to The Black Orchid was a bad idea. It only reminded me of the nights I spent there, dreaming about seeing him in class the next morning. Or the day that I had to serve a table for him and Zack. The conversations that followed after that day.
Before I knew it, my ankle was being examined by a series of nurses and doctors. It’d been wrapped up in a bandage. Being drunk definitely hindered my memory, because I don’t recall much after that. Or perhaps my depression had been too great for my own mind to process.
“Make sure to drink this.” The nurse handed me a water bottle.
The icy and wet feeling of the water bottle made it slip from my hands.
I struggled against the cap of the plastic bottle.
At that point, I knew that I was still inebriated.
I sighed, looking over to Cami, who was curled up in a chair.
If I had learned anything in my three years of friendship with Camille, it was that she didn’t sleep at night.
She died, and only resurrected the next morning.
It would be of no avail to try and wake her for help.
As if he were an angel sent from the Heavens above, a ginger-haired man appeared by my door. He knocked softly, tentatively stepping toward my curtains.
“Do you need a hand with that?” he questioned.
“Please?” I extended the bottle to him. The redhead gave me a wide grin as he ripped off the cap and held it out toward me.
“Swollen ankle?” His eyes scanned the elastic bandage wrapped around my leg.
How embarrassing to be in this condition before a really hot doctor, I thought to myself as I drank from my water. Wait, what was I thinking? I needed coffee. I needed to be sober.
I knew that a painful headache was awaiting me the next morning, and I wish I hadn’t needed to wake up early for that damned meeting.
The doctor walked toward the end of my bed, grabbing the binder and checking my charts.
“My friend and I were celebrating her twenty-first birthday. I tried to be spontaneous for the first time ever, and it backfired on me.”
I only received an eloquent laugh from him. He even had a rich-person chuckle, it was baffling.
“Those are the best stories to tell when you’re old and wrinkly,” he argued.
“You have a point,” I began, but trailed off as I scanned the identification badge hanging from his white coat. “Aldair.”
Aldair chuckled and nodded. “Aye. How’s your ankle holding up?”
I always believed fate had brought us together. Camille’s birthday dinner at The Black Orchid, my ankle spraining, going to Novamed Hospital, him walking past my room.
He could’ve been in another section of the hospital; he could’ve helped another drunken girl with her water bottle; he could’ve conversed with her for the rest of the night and charmed her with his antics. But it was me. He chose me. We had to be soulmates, right?
I slowly found a way out of his arms, grabbed a vase from the cabinet beneath the island, filled it up with water, and set the stems of the bouquet carefully into the glass. “That is true. But it’s fine, I just have to convince them of the story that I have in mind.”
“Are you gonna be busy today, then?” he asked.
I felt uneasiness rush into my chest. “I’m going to head to the coffee shop and get to writing. Why? What’s up?”
“I was hoping we could talk wedding plans.”
“Oh, babe, I don’t know. I really have to start writing those chapters.”
A hint of disappointment flashed across his expression. There was a dash of anger and impatience as well, but I didn’t give any mind to it once I saw it disappear as quickly as it came.
“Tell me more of this impromptu idea you’ve got in your mind.” Aldair leaned on the kitchen island, his figure reflecting on the polished marble beneath him. There was a small glimmer in his dark forest gaze, one that showed how much he admired me. He only had eyes for me, no one else.
My eyes widened.
“What?” he questioned.
“It’s just that… you’ve never asked that before.”
He scoffed. “Lysandra, we both know that’s not true. I always ask about your job. If anything, it’s the other way around.”
And there it was. That switch that gave me a glimpse of the side of him I didn’t particularly feel at peace with. What was I even supposed to say to that?
“I’m going to work on a new ending for So Long, Scotland. It gained a lot of traction, and perhaps there’s still a story there to be written.”
His head tilted to the side as he furrowed his brows. “I thought that story was finished.”
“I thought so too,” I trailed off.
If only he knew just how real this new beginning was. As he questioned my choice to dive back into a story I had already shelved in the vaults of my mind, I was relieved I hadn’t told him the truth. Although I’m sure he had heard the rumors.
Nonetheless, he didn’t deserve this. I had to release this phantom that had accompanied me for the past five years. Maybe working with Ezra would be the only way for me to let go of him.
“Anyway, I wanted to get started on my first draft before I begin attending the dozens of meetings for the movie,” I explained as I fixed up some grapes next to my breakfast.
His confusion was replaced with glee. “That is right! I wanted to congratulate you, my love, for this great triumph.”
Aldair strode toward me, setting his hands on my waist. My hands wrapped around his neck. I enjoyed being this close to him; I tried to convince myself. He was warm. He was home. “Thank you.”
He leaned down and kissed me sweetly.
“Care for breakfast?” I asked, creating distance between us.