22. twenty two
twenty two
EZRA
“I didn’t peg you for the kind of girl that would wait around for some guy to come rescue her,” I almost whispered, jealousy clear in my tone.
“I am not that kind of girl. How dare you say that about me?” Lysandra muttered, eyes wide.
I guess she didn’t notice my angst, or she chose to ignore it.
She proceeded to chew on the chocolate bar we’d been sharing, which we retrieved from the small pantry beside the wine cellar.
The maroon liquid in the bottle was almost gone, courtesy of the pain in my chest after hearing about her amazing fiancé.
She went on and on about how he was a resident at the hospital, he was paid really well, and that he came from good money.
A reputable lad within the Scottish community.
The pinch in my chest turned into a firestorm of anger and envy.
I was never the type to want what another man had.
But all of that had changed, because this man was about to marry the love of my life.
You might have questioned why the hell I even asked about him, but I just wanted to be sure she was being treated right. That she was happy with him. Excuse a lad for caring.
He was able to sweep her off her feet and make her fall head over heels for him. She was supposed to fall in love with me.
Not him.
Me.
The one who had waited five damn years for her.
It was not like I deserved her anyway, not after what I did.
It was obvious that the best choice for her was to stay the hell away from me.
I had done nothing but hurt her like I was some sort of plague, I was a malady.
My very presence repulsed her, and I saw it whenever she looked at me.
I had noticed her flinches and her sadness.
I was the cause of that. And I despised myself because of it.
I was beginning to think it was best to pack it in. To give this up. Let her be happy. I shouldn’t have to come into her life and ruined every plan she already had.
God, I was so selfish for having done this at all. I should’ve stayed on my side of the world and allowed her to marry him and start their own happy little family.
But I desperately wanted it to be me. I couldn’t have stopped myself from doing this. I had to know if she could give me another chance. If we could have another chance.
“I’ve never told anyone this. And this might sound a little odd, but I think that was the only time I felt like we were on the same page,” she confessed, lowering her gaze to the wine bottle in my hands. She took it, taking a swig.
I furrowed my brows. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged with a frown. “In the beginning, it was all so different. We were best friends, you know? We’d do everything together, and it never used to be a problem.
I would enjoy being around him, and I could tell he enjoyed being around me too.
” She hiccuped. “But now, we barely even see each other. He tries to set up all these date nights, but I can’t bring myself to attend.
I find myself feeling like I’m a ghost and he’s looking right through me. Through me but never at me.”
“Oh.”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I knew it wasn’t my place to overstep, but she was opening up to me. She was trusting me with her truth, and I felt flattered, but also confused.
Because if I were to be engaged to Lysandra, I would feel seen by her, and I knew I’d be able to see her too. I’d enjoy every moment I could get with her because I knew I was born to live my life by her side. To be frank, I already felt and did all those things.
“And I know this damn wedding isn’t going to plan itself, but I can’t bring myself to think about it.” Her expression shifted into something painful and profound.
“Weddings are stressful for everyone, especially for the bride,” I forced myself to croak out.
Perhaps the alcohol had gotten to her, maybe that was why she’s able to confess these secrets to me. Better to confess to a stranger than a friend, sometimes.
“No,” she cried into her hands. “No, this is different.”
I wanted to reach over, bring her into my arms, and rub her back until she was rid of any sorrow. I pictured that happening in my mind, and I knew that it would be of no use. She would only withdraw, and right then, she was an open book.
Lysandra had always been the type of person to bottle everything inside and only explode when she could no longer hold on. This had to be one of her explosions. She wouldn’t be confessing this to me if she didn’t have a firm grip on her emotions.
Which is how I realized she didn’t want to get married to Aldair.
She didn’t love him. That uncertainty she had, was because she knew—deep down—that it would be a mistake to tie her life to his.
The last thing I wanted for her was to go through a messy divorce and be left in a million pieces.
I had to save her from an unhappy future with him.
And there was a part of me that felt relief. I didn’t want to make this situation about me, because it wasn’t. It was completely about her.
I had to focus on her. On her wellbeing. On stopping her from making one of the worst mistakes of her life, other than me.
My own heart betrayed me because I immediately started to imagine all the beautiful date nights that I could take her on. The intimate memories that we’d never forget, even when we were old.
I had to stop her, I had no other choice but to stop her from breaking her own heart. What could I say? What could I tell her so she would understand that she was about to make a grave mistake?
Ezra, you can’t make this about you.
I was selfish. I knew I was. I was selfish for her because I yearned for her. I was dying of thirst and she was the only one who could quench this desire. To hell with it.
“Don’t marry him.”
Her brown eyes widened, confusion hitting her like a freight train. Lysandra dropped the wine bottle, leaving the half-eaten bar next to it, and shot up to her feet.
“What?” Her tone was sharp.
I pushed myself to my feet and exasperated, “Don’t marry him.”
“How can you—”
“You shouldn’t have to feel that way about someone you’re going to be spending the rest of your life with,” I argued.
“And you know so much about marriage?” She countered.
I stuttered.
“Last I remember, your father wasn’t the greatest husband to your mother.
Not a great father to you either, for that matter.
You really think you have authority to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing with my life?
Let alone my sentimental life?” She yelled.
I hoped her words were coming from her drunken state and not from her soul.
My father died soon after I left college at Blackthorn. His death made the flashbacks easier to deal with because I knew the hits and jabs would never come again. It still didn’t mean that Lysandra’s words didn’t hurt even more than what my father ever did to me.
Richard Van Dorren was incapable of love. That much I knew. But Lysandra was the one person I ever let myself truly care for.
I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve stayed silent, but there was a part of me that desperately wanted her to see that I still loved her.
That I wasn’t the same guy I was five years ago, that I had learned my lesson.
That I was in love with her back then and I still was.
Probably even more now than ever before.
She didn’t have to be with someone who didn’t make her happy, someone who couldn’t fulfill her dreams.
“Lysandra—”
“No, no. You don’t get to defend yourself. Might I remind you that you’re the one who screwed us up.” She pointed a finger at me before motioning to the space between us.
I lowered my head with a sigh. I realized that today wouldn't be the day I could tell her my truth.
That she was my lifeline. That she had been the only woman in my life.
The eyes I searched for in every room that I ever entered.
The warmth of her skin was the only one I felt the absence of in this cold world.
I corrected myself by saying, “This is about you. Forget him, this isn’t about him.”
Lysandra scoffed with a grin, pushing past me, her shoulder hitting mine.
I followed after her through the hallways of my apartment, the party guests stepping aside for both of us as we marched through the loft.
The clinking of glasses and the lively conversations instantly stopped when our footsteps echoed across the floorboards.
I could already hear their whispering and feel their piercing stares. But right now, they didn’t matter. What mattered was the girl in front of me, rushing away from me. Running from the truth.
“Lysandra,” I called after her. “Lysandra, wait.”
“No,” she barked.
The crowds parted like the Red Sea as Lysandra marched through them. I noticed Camille holding onto a glass of champagne. She set her blue gaze on Lysandra with a furrow of her brow.“What’s going on?” She asked.
“We’re leaving.” Lysandra grabbed her wrist, pulling her as she opened the door.
Camille struggled to keep her footing as she left the champagne glass and snatched her purse from the table.
Was she so impatient to escape my company that she had agreed with her best friend the time that they would be leaving?
I closed the door behind me, hoping and praying that Zack would take care of the party while I was gone.
“Lysandra, please wait,” I begged.
I let her walk away once, and I had regretted it every day of my life since. There was no way in hell that I was going to let her leave with us like that. I couldn’t lose her again.
They continued marching out of my place and into the hallway. Camille looked back with apologetic eyes, frowning with pity.
“You don’t love him. How can you get married if you don’t love him?” I questioned.
Camille exclaimed, “Lysandra, wait.” Pulling on her arm.
Lysandra stopped. Her entire body stiffened as she let go of Cami’s arm. The long and dark corridors grew silent, and I believed she would end me with her double-edged sword that her tongue was.
That’s the thing about loving someone so fiercely. They have you in the palm of their hand, and that it becomes so easy for them to break you.
Lysandra wasn’t the type to inflict pain unless she was hurt first. This was just the consequence of my actions. “You lost your chance, Ezra. You ruined it. You ruined me.”
The oxygen in my lungs slowly began to leave. My chest started contracting. Like I’d been stabbed. Like I was dying.
“Lys,” Camille whispered, voice soft.
And there it was again. The hatred, the resentment, and the pain in her eyes. I just had to look into her soulful gaze to know that she was sad. And it was my fault. Once again, my aspirations were broken by what I’d done.
I should have given up.
Once and for all, because it was clear that she wanted nothing to do with me.
“Don’t marry him, Lysandra,” I said. “He won’t make you happy. This—this relationship is a farce, and you know it.”
Camille put a hand on her mouth.
Lysandra shook her head, lips pursed. She breathed in, closing her eyes before saying, “Look… I’m sorry for what I said about your parents.
That really wasn’t my place, especially because we have that in common.
But that doesn’t justify you entering my personal life and giving your opinions on matters that have nothing to do with you.
So please, just leave me alone. I don’t need another scandal that involves you. ”
I desperately wished not to have a relationship like my parents. Loveless. Violent. Toxic.
Were we just as cursed as our parents? Was there truly no hope for people like us?
She tightened her fingers inward, knuckles turning white, before shifting and giving me her back. Once again, I watched her walk away from me. And at that moment, I had the worst case of déjà vu as I held onto my chest with excruciating pain.