Chapter 10 RULE #9 Family first.
Chapter ten
ROMAN
Everything hurts. My face, my stomach, and my pride. I groan, thinking about Noelle’s face after I ripped her heart out. I should get up. I try to move, but something heavy is thrown over my stomach. Where am I?
I peel my eyes open, and I see the white and blue pillows. The pool house. I don’t even know how I got here. In the summer, it’s warm and cozy, but in the winter, there is a draft. I look down and see that someone threw a beige blanket over me.
Someone nudges my side, like they are pressing their face to my side.
From the shock of short blonde hair, I think it’s Liam. I wonder what he is doing here. I lay back on the pillow, wondering if Noelle is okay. I said so much shit last night. I hear a crunching of snow and gravel. The door opens, and the morning light hits my face. I groan and move to the side.
“Both of you get up!” It’s a stern voice sounding eerily like my father. I roll onto my side.
A bag of frozen peas lands next to me. “Put that shit on your eye. You too.”
Liam moans beside me. “Go away; let me sleep.”
From the corner of my eye, I see my father walk away. My mom approaches the bed and sits next to me.
“Here, press it to your eye before it gets bigger.”
The frozen peas feel like a balm soothing my wound. “Thank you.” I close my eyes and sigh.
“Move, Elizabeth,” my father says.
Cold water slaps my face and seeps through my bones. I jump off the sectional, sputtering and wiping the water from my face.
“What the fuck, Dad?” Liam screams and sits up, looking disgruntled as he wipes the water off his face.
“I am sick and tired of you both.” My father begins to pace with a bucket swinging in his hand.
“Cliff,” my mother pleads.
“What is this? A family tribunal? We could have done this later,” Liam says while he is scraping his wet jacket off his body.
I take my jacket off and drop it to the floor. “Look, Dad, if you are here to lecture me, please push it back to this evening.”
“That is rich coming from a man who has been absent for three years. Only to reappear with a fake fiancée at his side.”
My temper sparks, but I bite down.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you. Last night was horrible. I am not here to fight; I am here to set things straight.” My father continues pacing.
“What are we going to set straight? The part where my little brother is marrying my ex? The part with Mom and Grandpa? The lie? What am I supposed to do now, apologize and smile?” I ask, my temper feels like it’s flaring up again.
“Enough, Roman.” My mother walks in front of me. She may be shorter, but I feel like a kid standing in her presence.
I bow my head and wait.
“What you saw with your grandfather and me wasn’t an affair; it was an assault.” My mom whispers, and my inside runs cold.
Liam comes off the sectional and stands at my side. “What do you mean, assault?”
Her hands tremble, and she looks down at her fingers and sniffles.
A part of me collapses. He was assaulting her, and instead of helping, I closed the door. “Mom.”
My eyes meet my dad’s, and his jaw rocks. “I am…” The words get stuck in my throat. I pull my mom into my arms, and she cries in my chest. I feel like digging up my grandfather’s bones and burning them.
“I am so sorry, Mom. Dad…” The words stick in my throat.
Liam hugs me and my mom. “Dad, did you…Grandpa’s death…did you?”
My father shrugs. “Your grandfather died of natural causes. Did I have something to do with the natural causes? May he rest in peace.”
I feel a sort of calm knowing that my father stood up for my mom.
She pulls away. “Now that we have that out. Let’s talk about Tessa and Noelle.”
Liam moves away and sits on the sectional with his hand in his head. “She ended it. She is in love with someone else.”
“Shit, Liam…” I move towards him.
Liam looks up at me. “Get over yourself. It’s not you or me. She said she is in love with herself.”
I sit next to him. “So, she canceled the wedding? How do you feel?”
Liam sighs. “Free. I feel free. I loved her, but deep down I knew she wasn’t the one.”
I slap his shoulder. “I am sorry it happened, but I am glad you feel good.”
“Merry Christmas to the four of us, huh?” Liam says.
I lean back against the couch. My shirt is still stuck to my body.
“Anyone with eyes can see that she cares for you, Roman,” my mom whispers.
I press the heel of my hand into my eye socket. “Mom, please. We are not going to talk about Noelle.”
Liam laughs. “The hell we are not. Even when you were with Tessa, you acted like an empty shell. Noelle anchors you, and you are too stubborn to admit it.”
My hands drop to my side. “Liam, please.”
“When I was a kid, I always wanted to be you. But this? The way you shut people out. The way you push people away who actually give a shit? That’s one part I never wanted to be.”
I blink, watching the white-boarded roof of the pool house.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Grow some balls and apologize.” Tillie’s voice cuts through the conversation.
She walks in wearing tan jeans, a red sweater, and boots, all the while chomping on an apple.
“It’s Christmas Day. If there’s any day you can get your girl back, it’s today,” Tillie says.
I sit up. “I don’t know where she is, and I hurt her so bad last night.”
My father holds my shoulder. “That’s why they call Christmas Day a day of miracles.”
“Uncle Cliff had me put her and her friend at The V,” Tillie replies. “Now, can we please go get your girl back and start celebrating Christmas? I am hungry.”
“Go get your girl, Roman. Your dad and I like her.” My mom comes and stands at my dad’s side.
“Move, you can’t look romantic being a wet hot mess,” Tillie states. “Why are you wet, anyway?”
I walk out of the pool house, hoping that she forgives me and praying for a Christmas miracle.
NOELLE
My phone is blaring. I should get up, but I don’t want to. Not right now.
I roll over in my bed; my eyes still feel blurry. My throat is dry, and my heart is broken. It’s Christmas Day, and I wake up to a broken heart and hurt.
The shrill of the phone sounds through the air. “Fine.” I roll to the side and grab it off the side table.
“Hello?” I murmur.
“What you mean ‘hello’? It’s Christmas morning; you still in bed? What the hell is this?” I hear my grandmother’s voice over the phone.
The sound of parang coming through the phone makes me want to cry. I miss home. I should have gone back.
I hear a tussle. “Mamé put the camera on.” I pull the phone away from my ear and see the pretty brown faces of my mom and grandmother.
“Why de hell you still in bed, child? You know what time it is?” My mom presses her nose closer to the phone.
“I will get up in a bit. I had a long night,” I reply. I see my aunty in the back raising a piece of foil off a bowl.
“Who is that?” My aunty asks as she dances into the kitchen with a glass in her hand.
“Nono on the phone,” my granny replies.
The phone shifts to my aunty. Her hair is in pin curls, and her makeup is fixed to perfection. “How come you still in bed?”
I sigh. “Oh, gosh. I had a long night.”
“Season’s greetings, honey. Look at this.” She pushes a piece of pastelle for me to see. “Your aunt make this and some garlic pork. Girl, it nice.”
“I bet it is.”
“How you look like you was crying so?” My granny asks in an accent that I miss hearing. Of course she sees my puffy eyes before anyone.
The beaded curtains behind them shift, and my father appears behind them. “Who eye puffy?”
“Nono. What you crying for?” my mom asks.
The faces on the phone look concerned, ready to go to battle for me.
“I miss you guys, that is all,” I reply. Baron’s “Neighbor Oye” starts to play, and my aunty and mom start to dance in the kitchen.
My dad takes the phone and walks through the house. I see the newly painted wall of my parents’ home.
“I in the office. You want me to send a ticket for you to come home?” My father asks. Despite all the disagreements we may have with the business, he will send for me to come home if I ask.
I blink rapidly. “No, Dad. I am good, really. I just miss you guys.”
He nods. “If you change your mind, call me.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Get up and shower; is 11:30 a.m. Is Christmas morning! You will feel better when you do.”
“Yes, Dad.”
After ten more minutes of my father showing me what my mother cooked and them fussing, I finally hang up.
I roll out of bed and head into the bathroom. Anushka has some body-care from Sugar Bae. I pump shower gel in my hands, and it instantly calms me.
My dad was right. I do feel better. I change into a robe and sit, moisturizing my skin.
The scent of mint and strawberries makes me think about Roman. I wonder if he’s up. If he is hurting as much as I am. I promised myself to never cry over him again. Last night was a disaster; so many things were said.
The Trinbagonian in me whispers, “You should have cussed him out.”
There is a knock. That must be Anushka. I have to ask her what time she plans on leaving.
“Come in,” I call out as I begin to moisturize my shoulders.
“Noelle?” Roman makes me stop in my tracks. I pull the robe closed.
“I don’t want to do this with you. What are you doing here?” I ask, screwing the cover of the moisturizer back on. I have to keep myself busy because I feel I would cry.
“Noelle, please look at me,” Roman says.
I get up and start making the bed. “I don’t want to.”
His footsteps are muffled by the white fluffy carpet.
I take the pillow, and Roman grabs it.
“Let it go.”
“Look at me, Noelle, please,” he pleads.
I lift my eyes to his. “Better? What? You came to feed your bottomless ego?” My voice breaks on the last word, betraying how I really feel.
He squeezes the pillow and stares at me. I am happy that he looks as miserable as I do. His eyes look tired behind his gold-rimmed glasses.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry. You can’t stitch what you tore apart last night. It’s too late, Roman.” I drop the pillow, letting it hang in his hand.
“Noelle,” he cries, dropping the pillow on the unmade bed.
I walk to the door and open it. “You can save your apologies for someone who still believes in you.”
ROMAN
It feels like sand is slipping through my fingers. I am grasping for us to stay together, for her forgiveness, for a new start.
How do I fix this? By being honest, laying it all out, not running.
I sigh, dipping my hands in my pockets. “You’re right. I hate that you are right. Because I know I cut you deep. For that, I am so sorry.”
She watches me with the door still open. I wish she would shout and cuss me out, but she keeps silent. Her jaw rocks, but she isn’t kicking me out, so that is a good sign.
“I don’t know how to do this, Noelle,” I admit. “How to deal with all these feelings and emotions. I don’t know how to let anyone close without being afraid.”
Noelle holds onto the doorknob and begins to twist it slowly. Her eyes move to the window, watching the snow falling.
“Last night, I was out of control. The things I said to you…I was wrong.”
She tightens the robe around herself and looks down at her feet. “You disrespected me. You hurt me.”
My heart thuds. “I know; I am sorry. I will never do that again.”
“Never? You don’t have the power to say never. You made me feel cheap. Like I wasn’t enough. Paid for sex. Really?”
I bend my head in shame. “I was wrong for that, and knowing that I hurt you, that’s the part that kills me the most.”
She meets my gaze. “I asked you what your goal was. Was it Tessa? Was it all to make her jealous?”
“It’s not—”
“You called her your girl and me a slut.”
The more we rehash this, the more my stomach turns. “I was spiraling out of control.”
“What would happen if you spiral again? Do I become the target again? Is that how this is going to work?” There was no anger in her voice. It was like she was mapping out a future of pain where I would be the source.
My jaw tightens. “Never. We are never going to be here again. I was scared and stupid.”
A dry laugh leaves her throat. “You are still scared. You may run again.”
I clench my fist in my pocket, looking her dead in the eyes. “I am scared, but I am more scared of losing you. I love you, Noelle. I know it’s been a short time, but I love and choose you.”
She bends her head, a single tear drops, and she stomps the ground. “You can’t ever hurt me like that again.”
I move toward the door.
My finger lifts her chin. “I promise I will never hurt you again.”
“You can’t promise that. But you can promise me this: if you feel like you are shutting down, you talk to me; don’t push me away. You don’t get to use me as a punching bag ever again,” she says. A tear rolls down her face.
“You are right, but I will make a fucking effort to keep that promise. I love you, Noelle Montredor, with everything I have.”
I watch the tension seep from her shoulders. Her eyes search my face, like she was seeing all my fears and my flaws. I feel vulnerable, naked.
“You are an idiot,” she whispers.
“I deserve that.” My hands wipe her tears.
“You’re a jerk.”
I nod. “But never to you, my love.”
“You hurt me like that again, and I will have your cousin come for you.” She holds onto my hoodie.
“I won’t hurt you again, princess.”
“No more stupid rules.” She chuckles.
“I don’t think we followed any of the rules.”
She chuckles again. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
I hold her face, my thumb touching her cheeks. “I am serious. I am never hurting you again.”
She tiptoes and pulls me down by my hoodie strings. “Good because I love you too, Roman Voss.”
“Thank God.” I groan, smashing my lips against hers.
She pulls away and touches my face “Merry Christmas Roman Voss,”
“Merry Christmas my love.”
Every crack in me feels whole. No more rules, no policies. Just my woman and me.