19. Eliana #2
I took one step toward her, but she immediately stepped back, and I stopped. That single movement told me more than any accusation could have. She was afraid I would come after her, and the thought was unbearable.
"I never wanted you to find this room like this," I said. "I wanted to tell you myself. I swear to you, Eliana."
"Then why didn't you?"
I had no answer that wouldn't sound like another excuse.
Because I was terrified. Because I had waited years for another chance with her and could not bear the possibility of losing it before she remembered.
Because every time I looked at her, I saw the life we had once shared and the life I had spent years believing I would never get back.
Because I loved her more than I knew how to explain.
Instead, I said, "Because I was trying to protect you."
Her expression changed. "Protect me?"
"Yes."
"From what? The truth?"
She looked around the studio, her eyes moving from one painting to another. "You've been watching me."
"I've never wanted to hurt you."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
"How long, Adrian?"
I looked at the paintings. There were too many memories in that room, too many pieces of a life she no longer remembered and I could never forget.
"Longer than you think."
Her eyes widened. The answer had been a mistake. She looked at me as though I had just confirmed every fear she had carried since the beginning.
"So Ethan was right."
"No."
"You knew things about me before we even started fake dating. My favorite flowers, my favorite song, the places I liked, the things that made me uncomfortable. You always seemed to know where I was and what I needed."
"Because I know you."
"You know me because you've been following me."
"No." My voice sharpened before I forced it back under control. "Eliana, listen to me. I have never stalked you. I have never wanted to frighten you. Everything I did was because I loved you."
Her eyes filled with tears. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No." I took another breath. "It's supposed to make you understand that there was never anything sinister about loving you."
"Then explain the paintings."
I looked at them. "I painted you because I couldn't stop seeing you."
She shook her head. "That doesn't make this normal."
"I never said it was."
Her eyes flashed toward me. "And Doctor Lara?"
I went still.
"Why were you seeing her?"
I said nothing, and her face fell.
"Exactly."
"Eliana, please."
"You keep doing this. Every time I ask you something important, you tell me to trust you, but you never actually tell me anything."
"I am asking you for more time."
"You've already had enough."
"I know."
"No, you don't." Her voice broke. "You don't know what it's like to stand in this room and realize that someone has been painting you without your knowledge. You don't know what it's like to wonder whether everything you've believed about a person is a lie."
I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to give her every answer she deserved. But I couldn't. Not yet. And I hated myself for it.
"I love you," I said, my voice lower now. "I love you desperately. More than I should, probably. More than is healthy. More than I know how to put into words. But none of that changes the fact that I will never force you to stay with me."
She stared at me through her tears. "If you love me, then tell me the truth."
I closed my eyes for a moment. "I will."
"When?"
"When the time is right."
She shook her head slowly. "There it is again."
"Eliana..."
"No." She wiped at her face. "I trusted you."
"You still can."
"I don't know how."
Those words cut deeper than any accusation. I wanted to reach for her. Every instinct in me screamed to close the distance between us, to hold her until the fear disappeared, to tell her she was mine and that nothing would ever take her from me again.
But she wasn't something I owned. She was the woman I loved. And if loving her meant letting her walk away when every part of me begged me to stop her, then I would endure it, even if it killed me.
"Please," I said. "Give me a little more time."
Her eyes hardened through the tears. "I already gave you everything."
Then she turned and ran.
"Eliana!"
I followed her out of the studio and down the hallway, my instincts taking over before reason could catch up. She pushed through the front door and hurried down the path toward the road. I went after her, wanting to catch her, God, wanting to, but I stopped myself several feet away.
She turned around, tears streaking her face. "Don't come any closer."
I froze. "Eliana, please."
"If you take another step toward me, I'll hate you forever."
The words struck with brutal precision. I stood completely still, every muscle in my body demanding that I ignore her. I could reach her in seconds. I could pull her back. I could put her in my car and drive until she calmed down.
But I knew better. That was not love. That was fear wearing the mask of love.
So I stayed where I was.
"I would never hurt you," I said.
She shook her head. "I don't know that anymore."
Then she turned away.
I watched her walk down the road without following. Every step she took felt like something being torn from me.
Don't leave me.
I wanted to say it aloud. Don't leave me, Eliana. Please. I need you. I need you more than I have ever needed anything in my life.
But I said nothing.
Because she had asked me to stay back. And for once, loving her meant obeying the one command that was destroying me.
I stood there until a vehicle appeared at the end of the road.
A police car.
It slowed beside Eliana, and my entire body went rigid when the driver's door opened. Ethan Brooks stepped out.
He looked at Eliana first. Then he looked at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Ethan's gaze remained fixed on me, unreadable and strangely calm. Then the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile.
And something about that smile told me this had never been an accident.