Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
How does a person process every emotion imaginable at the same time?
Gazing out the window of the Cessna on his way back to the city from the Hamptons, Darcy’s mind hadn’t rested following his second triple espresso.
His hangover may have dissipated to tolerable levels, but his mind and heart worked double-time.
He hated that he couldn’t discern if last night’s sexual encounter was real or imagined.
If only his dick could tell the story. It felt real because Lizzy dwelled under his skin and in his blood, both of which felt alive again.
He felt complete even in his inebriation last night and bereft when she hadn’t woken beside him in the morning.
As sure as his constancy, he was convinced that Lizzy had been the siren who lured him from the sea, not Caroline.
Staring at how the wing sliced through the clouds, he smiled tightly, mind drifting to her words at the table: “Because I could have helped her ... because you needed me.”
At the time of their breakup, had he had absolute confirmation about her crazy sister’s interference, everything would have unfolded differently. He always surmised she had a hand in it, but eighteen months later, his mother shared some truth bombs about what had happened.
“I have to interfere,” she’d said.
“What, again?” he joked because she rarely did, and frankly, she was too near the end to do anything other than sleep.
Her white lips forced a smile. “Lizzy regretted what happened.”
“Stop. Don’t waste your breath on her, Mom.”
“Listen to me. She tried ... to call you.”
Shaking his head, he tried to dissuade her from going where he swore he never would. “Mom, please don’t. It’s still raw.”
“I know and that’s why ... I have to tell you everything I promised I wouldn’t. William, (pain grimace) she loves you, but I think ... she was young ... had dreams and was highly susceptible to her sister’s ... (she winced) unhealthy manipulations.”
Again, he shook his head, unwilling to discuss his ex in what could be his final moments with his mother. Her last words should not be about Lizzy.
“She told me some of the things her sister said,” she breathed.
“Maybe ... I don’t know ... it’s in the past.”
“It’s never too late.”
“Whatever she said, she was just looking for a scapegoat so as not to lose your respect.”
“You’re wrong. Go to her. It will be different now.”
“You should rest, Mom. Dredging up the past is too stressful on you.”
“No, William. I have to say it. When I’m gone, put aside your sorrow and damn Darcy pride and .
.. go to Paris where she is free from everyone’s influence.
Her sister was at the heart of this.” She raised her hand, cradling his cheek with her cold palm, followed by a deep inhale.
“Share your heart, my dear ... son. It’s such a beautiful heart not to share with the woman you still love.
I promise you, Lizzy will hold it in her hands and never misplace it again. ”
A tear rolled down his cheek onto her hand. “You’re not going anywhere, Mom.”
“Yes, I am, but I still want Fitzwilliam grandbabies,” she tried to say lightly.
He chuckled through his ache. There was a time when he wanted Lizzy to be the mother of his children, but now all he cared about was his mother.
“And ... (let out ragged breath) go back to painting. You’re ... so talented,” she whispered. “It’s your expression. It’s where you are happiest.”
Torn between clinging to her last bits of motherly advice and his unwillingness to talk about Lizzy or painting, he shook his head again. “Okay, if I find something worthy to paint, I’ll paint it. And if I ever run into Lizzy again, I promise to listen to what she has to say.”
She smiled; that Fitzwilliam sparkle and fighter in her touched her eyes. “You mean, when you run into her in Paris?”
“Sure. Paris.”
Life being the shit storm that it was at the time, his mother died three days later, and his grief came with an overwhelming transference of sorrow over losing Lizzy piled onto the heart-wrenching loss of his mother.
They were the two people in the world who had loved him for him and despite himself, and the only ones he loved more than any other in the world.
But, if it hadn’t been for Caroline, Pemberley Capital, and his hatred of Jane Bennet, he might not have steered clear of the booze.
Over the years, he had carefully managed the memories of those final weeks and months following his mother’s passing. Only in his most vulnerable times did they emerge from the safety deposit box deep in his mind ... until now.
Lizzy rested her head on his chest, drawing circles along his abdomen. They’d just made love and, as was their afterglow practice, she whispered in the dark. “I ... I can’t do this anymore, William.”
He thought she meant sex. “Why? Do I hurt you?”
“No, not that. You know how I love our intimacy. It never hurts—it heals.” She kissed his chest, then sat up on an elbow. Biting her lip, she gazed at him. He could see the unusual distress across her face and how she held back something important.
“What can’t you do, babe? Is it something we can tackle together to make it easier?”
She shook her head, eyes welling with tears. “These past nine months have been the best of my life.”
“Mine, too.” He leaned on an elbow and ran his free hand through her long locks. “I love you, Lizzy.”
She took a deep breath. Her lip trembled. “I love you, too but ...”
“But, what?”
“Next month I’ll be leaving for Les Beaux-Arts de Paris and—”
“You got accepted! Yes!! I’m so proud of you!” He tightly hugged her.
“You don’t understand. I have to leave without you.”
“What? You’re okay with a long-distance relationship?”
“It just won’t work. Your life is making money for your family company ... in New York. Pemberley Capital consumes you, and I understand, but, but ... it’ll always be number one in your life, no matter where I am.”
“That’s not true. You are number one—always.”
She sat up. “No. I’m not, and I have my own dreams to pursue ... on my own. It’s over between us.”
“Stop this.”
Stunned, he sat up. Her words came completely out of left field, especially following what they had just done and the things they’d said to each other while doing it!
Struggling to ask, he stuttered, “Babe, you ... you ... don’t really want to ... break up? Do you?”
She shrugged off his touch to her arm.
“Yes, I do. We want different things in life. I want to go to Paris―alone―and pursue my dreams without having to compete with Pemberley for your attention. And you shouldn’t have to compete with my schooling, either. William, it’s the right thing to do ... for both of us.”
“Says who? Me? You? This is bullshit. We made plans, Lizzy.”
“We did,” she blubbered. “But they’ve changed.”
“Lizzy, stop! Listen to yourself. These aren’t your words. You wouldn’t say this shit to me. You don’t honestly believe this crap you’re feeding me, because I sure as hell don’t!”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t feel it.”
He shut down, turning his face away from hers, heart crashing to the floor. “I ...” he didn’t know what to say, couldn’t beg, couldn’t speak.
Weeping, she said, “Maybe one day ... we’ll meet again, and we can give us another chance, but right now you’re too focused on building your career, and I’m too focused on building mine!”
Stunned, he blurted like a ten-year-old, “But you pinky swore!”
Lizzy raised her hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry ... .It was beautiful while it lasted. We just want different things in life. I have to think of myself for a change, not everyone else. It’s why I came to New York and now, why I’m leaving for Paris.”
“You’re running away. Don’t run from me, of all people.”
Turning her back to him, she rose from the bed, stumbling to the chair for her clothes.
“That’s it? After everything we have promised and done? It was all meaningless? I feel so fucking used!” he barked.
“No, not meaningless. I will never forget the time we shared.” She scooped up her clothes then ran into the bathroom, leaving him sitting in the bed—alone, naked, and in absolute darkness.
That was the last time he’d seen her ... until last night.
The thing is, he would have given it all up just to be with her and make her happy.
Monday, June 16, early morning
Annoyed and unable to sleep at two in the morning, Darcy sat at his kitchen bar, scrolling through news articles and financial reports, attempting to distract his thoughts.
Maybe they’d bore him, dozing him off for another three hours before hitting the gym, but blue light and memories worked against him.
Not to mention that half the articles were about “the Darcy heir to Pemberley Capital” punching some drunk at the Bingley wedding.
One would think the well-heeled alcoholic groom taking a leak at the cocktail hour would get the headline, but that wasn’t even mentioned.
Apart from trying to jog his memory about the wet dream, thoughts of Lizzy only reminded him of the pain he’d felt losing her the first time and subsequently again feeling that same penetrating loss.