11. eleven
eleven
EZRA
“I can’t believe she’s back in my life again,” I sighed. My pulse thumped in my veins as I packed the script into my case.
“You need to let go of this girl. She’s about to get married.” Zack flipped through a magazine, his feet over the edge of my desk. The chatter of the assistants echoed through the glass walls of the conference room. From here, I could hear the clicking of keyboards and the beeping of the printers.
“I don’t care.”
Zack’s emerald eyes widened before he gave me a daring smirk as he fixed his tie. “You know, I expected more from you. I thought I would be the first to be involved in an affair.”
“I am not going to have an affair with her,” I snapped.
How could he ever believe that she’d be capable of such an atrocity?
She was loyal and faithful. She would never do that to her fiancé, whoever the lad was.
I breathed in once and I noticed Zack’s furrowed brows.
“I’m going to fight for her. But it’ll be her choice whether she wants to be with me or with him. ”
“Who says she’ll pick you? I recall the day at the stadium, the way she looked at you was full of hate. I never thought a person could ever be that angry until I saw her.”
“And whose fault is that? Whose sister told her the truth before I ever had the chance?” I argued.
I reminded myself that it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.
He shrugged. “My sister paid for what she did.”
“And it fixed nothing between Lysandra and me.”
Having a younger sister myself, I didn’t know if I could ever bring myself to treat her with such cruelty. We’d lived with privilege our entire lives, to cut everything from her and leave her to fend for herself seemed like neglect.
I was glad that Maya and I never had those types of issues as Scarlett and Zack.
“You didn’t have to. It wasn’t her place to open her mouth, and she ruined what you and this girl had. You have no idea what it was like to be around you at the time. You were so gloomy and sad; it became rather annoying. Plus, cutting her off was probably one of the best entertainments I’ve had.”
I remained silent. All the sour memories came crashing into me. He was right about one thing. She was so full of rage that day. I’d never seen someone so hurt and angry all at once. But she felt all of it. She went through it by herself, and I hated myself for it.
I was deceitful, and my half-truths killed our relationship. But these past five years, everything I had been doing was for her. So she could find someplace in her heart to forgive me. To give me another chance to make it right.
I was unsure whether I’d be able to live with myself if she chose to hold resentment toward me for the rest of her life. Although last week’s conference about casting was pleasant. Not the best of our conversations, but she was courteous.
“Okay, I have to rush. We have another meeting today.”
“Careful, mate. I wouldn’t want there to be a conflict of interest.” I rolled my eyes as Zack snickered. “Have a good one.”
Grabbing my suitcase, I headed towards the elevator. The ding of the closed space transported me back to the day I saw her at the coffee shop minutes before meeting her at her publisher’s.
I noticed the way her brown eyes were full of sadness from the recollections that my features brought back. Oh, how I wished I hadn’t lied to her.
I had to stop thinking so much about everything I did wrong and focus on doing what was right.
I shook off the ill thoughts that wished to entrap me.
I wouldn’t tempt her to cheat on her fiancé, I wouldn’t do that to myself, and not to her.
She wouldn’t carry that on her conscience, and neither would I.
But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t unravel the disdain she felt for me.
In a way, I knew she must care for this man she was engaged to.
She wouldn’t have said yes to him if she didn’t love him.
But there was some part of me, deep within my soul, that gave me the certainty that if I were to attempt to make her fall in love with me again, I would catch her, and she would remain forever in my arms. Close to my chest, close to my heart, close to me. We wouldn’t part ever again.
In those five miserable years without her, I could not get her out of my mind. No matter how much I tried.
I nodded in my receptionist’s direction.
She squealed as I headed for the entrance, and I chuckled in confusion.
As I opened the glass door to the building, I was welcomed with the warm smell of butter.
Alongside the creamy odor of chocolate and baked flour.
I walked down the cobblestone streets, passing tall lamp posts, and bumping into passerbyers wearing trench coats.
I envisioned Lysandra in every corner of this city.
When I was at Blackthorn House Academy, all I wanted was to leave Scotland and never look back. I wanted to settle in America, where she came from, which was ironic. And she wanted to settle in Europe, where I was from. As if we were both looking for each other in our native lands.
The pink curved awnings of the café loomed ahead of me.
White Waves
She chose it. I wonder if this was a place she had visited often throughout her years here. I pulled the black door open. The scent of coffee engulfed me to the point where I wanted to immerse myself fully in the ambiance and mood of the place.
The tables were made of dark polished wood.
Large cups of hot coffee were being passed around from the waiter’s hands to the customers seated.
Sofas were set at different corners of the café, and old paintings hung from almost every wall.
I looked around, scanning the room for the brunette of my dreams.
I spotted her sitting by a paned glass window, with an arched fanlight above.
There’d been slight streaks of gold visible in her hair as the sun rays cast upon her.
Her chin was curved down as her eyes swept the pages of a book.
I looked at the cover of the book between her hands.
The Picture of Dorian Gray. A small smudge of her lipstick stained her white coffee cup.
As I neared her, I noticed the foam tulip on her coffee was already disappearing.
Lysandra looked up from her novel. There was a small twitch at the corner of her lips. She pursed her mouth before greeting me, “Oh, hello.”
“Hi,” I said as I took a seat before her and set my case on the floor.
Lysandra remained silent, her eyes inviting me to begin the conversation. I knew she wasn’t comfortable speaking to me yet. Nor did she seem to like the idea that we would be working together so closely again. Was it selfish of me to offer this deal, knowing it was everything she wanted?
I had not done it so I could have some sort of toxic control over her. I simply wished to make her dreams come true. To see her smile. To see her powerful words reach the lives of many. But I knew that, consequently, my dream to see her and to be close to her again would be fulfilled as well.
“I didn’t think that after all of this time you’d still be infatuated by that book,” I remarked.
She gasped. “Don’t be foolish. When you read this book, you can’t deny it feels as if you were having a conversation with darkness and beauty.”
I hesitated. She was right. Her contentment showed at the curve of her lips, knowing that I had no comeback.
“You got me there, Guerrera,” I said. Her breath hitched softly. I furrowed a brow and asked, “You okay?”
“Yes, sorry. Just thought of something dumb. Would you like to order something before we begin?” she asked.
“How polite. But no, just had coffee earlier.”
“Okay, let’s get straight into the details. I already began a portion of the script. Now, I know you already have your screenwriters, but I wanted to write down a few particular scenes myself. They feel kind of personal, and I wanted them to be the way I liv—imagined them.”
Lysandra dropped a packet of documents on my side of the table.
She’d labeled the chapters that she wanted to have creative control over at the beginning of each scene.
I grabbed the pages and skimmed through them.
As I made it to the last few pages of the packet, I realized that the last scene she’d scripted was from a chapter of her book where the main character had been proposed to by the new love interest many years later.
The female main character seemed to feel fearful and doubtful in that moment.
And I recalled the female main character’s thoughts from the book.
Was this how Lysandra felt about her fiancé? Did she have uncertainty and fear? Could he possibly be at fault for this?
I prayed to God that he hadn’t hurt her or made her believe that she was unsafe around him.
“What is it? Why do you have that look on your face?” she questioned swiftly.
“I don’t have any look on face,” I argued.
“Yes, you do. You have this look of disapproval. And I don’t like it.”
I chuckled. “This is just my face.”
“I repeat, I don’t like the look on your face.”
“I believe you. I know you love my face,” I teased.
Her nostrils flared as she squinted her eyes. “What did you see?” she asked.
“There’s a scene from the book. The one where your female main character is being proposed to by the slightly annoying Scottish redhead. She seems to be uncertain, and even contemplates saying no to his proposal.”
Her eyes widened just a bit. “What about it?”
“I just can’t help but think about the rock on your finger.”
Lysandra looked down at her ring before curling her hands inward and hiding the marquise diamond that glittered under the rays of the Sun.
By the size of it, it was an expensive ring.
Which meant he was someone wealthy. I’m glad she was being taken care of and didn’t have to worry about money ever again.
“Aldair has nothing to do with that scene.”
“Really? Tell me, is he also a redhead?” I knew he was, I was just having fun teasing her again.
She shook her head. “My life is none of your business.”
Lysandra stood and grabbed her bags.
“Don’t go.” I stood with her, setting a hand over hers. She looked down and sucked in a breath. I knew she was doing everything not to snap at me in the café. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to catch up with you.”
Flashes of one of our first nights together at the library rushed back to me. It was so similar to this moment.
I rejoiced over living a new experience with her.
“There’s not much to expect from someone like you.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“If this is how it’s going to be between us, then I am going to find a way to void our contract.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I were made of glass,” she scoffed.
“Okay, what is with you? Why are you being so difficult?” I argued.
“I’m not, you’re just being annoying.”
I took a breath in. She was still the same stubborn Lysandra Guerrera. “Tell me more about your ideas for our project.”
She sat again, her back straight against the wooden chair, crossed her arms, and her jaw clenched. “When are you planning to release this movie?”
“Next year, around this time.”
“That means we have to work fast.”
“Yes. I know your book goes through several seasons, but the most prominent one is autumn. And I know it’s your favorite. Just picture yourself walking the red carpet on a crisp autumn afternoon.”
“Yes, I can’t believe you remember that. It’s not scorching hot, and it’s not—”
“It’s not super cold,” I finished. “Because you hate summer’s heat and winter’s frigidness.”
To see her smiling at me again made me realize that she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Not even the greatest works of art in the grandest museums in the whole world could compare to her beauty, which was radiating and illuminating my soul.
“Yes! I know summers in Scotland aren’t that bad, but I’ll always remember the summers at home.”
“Yeah, I recall you telling me how it would get to three digits. How do the people survive over there?”
“Anyone who goes out into the heat doesn’t survive, so the streets are mostly empty. And the coldest it gets during winter is forty degrees Fahrenheit. The last time it snowed in my hometown was in the 1930s. Can you believe that?”
I was surprised that I could get her to speak so much just by mentioning her hometown. Back then, it was a reason for her to shut down.
“That is difficult to imagine since it snows most of the time here,” I said.
“That’s probably Scotland’s only flaw.”
I smiled with her.
She spoke as if she’d never left. As if she knew the patterns of the seasons of Edinburgh. Like Scotland had become her home.
“Forgive me, but I have to ask,” I began. The light in her expression seemed to dim. “Did you stay here all this time? Where did you go after the…incident?”
She gulped before fidgeting with her cherry-red painted nails. “I transferred to Lachlan a few weeks after. Once I had finished high school there, I was accepted into the University of Edinburgh.”
“Wow…”
Her cheeks grew rosy.
“I always had a feeling you’d get everything that you wanted.”
Her brown eyes reflected nothing but sadness once I said that.
Yet, there was no reason for her to be sad.
She really did have everything she wanted.
She got published. She was a well-known author across Europe and America, and I don’t think she had realized the full extent of her fame.
She was engaged to a man with money. Lysandra was about to embark on a new journey and watch her words materialize. How could she be sad?
“Not quite.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Story for another time. Right now, I’d like to focus on the one that I’ll be seeing on the big screen next year.”
I grinned, knowing that this would probably be the best year of my life.
“Is it okay if we use these scripts for the auditions?” She asked.
There was absolutely nothing I could have ever denied her.