Promise (24 page)

"You're being ridiculous, Alexis, and you
know it deep down in your heart."

I shrugged. I didn't want to know what hid
deep down in my heart because it meant pain (
love
).

"Whatever," I finally muttered. I punched my
pillow and lay back down on my side, facing the wall again.

"Alexis, you love him, don't you?"

I ignored her. She eventually got the message
and left.

She was right. I
did
love him, to my
core. If I wasn't sure before, the intense pain I felt now proved
it. But he didn't really love me. He had to play through the whole
thing so he could get used to being around me without wanting to
kill me. After all, we couldn't create a kid if he murdered me in
the process. He just needed to make it seem real to keep me around
long enough. Even went so far as to propose…

I broke down in tears and then full-body sobs
again. When the anger followed, I mostly directed it at myself for
being so damn stupid. A part of me knew it all along…the part still
protecting my most vulnerable, intimate areas…the part that knew he
really was too good to be true, that it never was real. I cried
through another night.

The next few days consisted of crying, anger,
staring at the walls and restless sleep. I didn't eat and had to
force myself to even take a shower. No school, no Tristan…no reason
to care. My future, my whole
life
was over. Not over, as in
I wanted to kill myself. Just over as in that chapter ended and I
couldn't find the beginning of the next one. So many unknowns
loomed in my future, and the one thing I'd finally become so sure
about—my anchor—was gone. I didn't know what to do with myself
anymore.

I lost all track of time. He came by the
cottage several times, but I stayed in my room and refused to
acknowledge him. He could only be there for one reason—to explain
himself and end it in person. I couldn't deal with the rejection
all over again. It was easier to just be mad, because I was afraid
of what my heart would do if I even heard his lovely voice or saw
his…
Nope, not even going to think about it.
When I'd hear
him leave, I had to fight the urge to run after him. So I cried
instead.

***

"Good to see you out of your room," Mom said
one morning when I slouched into the kitchen. She was about to
leave for the store. "It's only been nearly a week. You look like
hell."

"A
week
?" I couldn't believe I'd
wasted so much time being miserable.

She looked at me with concern. "Maybe you
could at least go to the beach or something. I bet you'd like that.
It would make you feel better."

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled. I doubted it would
make me feel better. I loved the beach, but it happened to be where
I had a lot of memories I didn't want to stir up.

Mom left as I sipped a cup of coffee, staring
at the cream-colored kitchen walls and trying not to think. I
eventually poured a bowl of cereal I really didn't want. I took a
couple bites and watched the rest turn to mush when there was a
knock at the door. I stiffened in my chair. It could only be one
person. I panicked. I couldn't slip to my room without him seeing
me through the door glass. I didn't want to answer it, but he'd
become familiar enough to usually enter on his own. I leaned over
in my chair to peer around the corner at the door.
Whew
.

"Hey, Owen," I muttered when I opened the
door.

"Hey, Alexis. You, uh, look like hell."

I still wore pajama bottoms and a tank top,
my hair pulled up in a sloppy pony. I could only imagine how red
and swollen my face was.

"Nice to see you, too," I said. I peered at
him and noticed bruises all over his arms. "You look like hell,
too. What happened to you?"

I reached my hand out to his arm, stopping
just before touching the purplish marks. He cleared his throat.
"That would be, uh, your boyfriend…or fiancé…or whatever he
is."

"Ex," I mumbled under my breath. But then it
hit me what he was saying. "Oh, my!
Tristan
did that to you?
What on earth
for
?"

He chuckled. "We sparred at the gym. He's
just been, um, a little aggressive lately. No one else will even
spar with him anymore. And I'm pretty sure he's holding back."

Well, yeah, or he would've killed you.
I felt horrible for Owen—normal Owen who had no idea how bad it
could've been and he couldn't even heal himself.

I sighed. "I'm really sorry, Owen. I think
you're getting the brunt of…our break up."

"I can take it. Rather me than someone else,"
he mumbled.

I waved for him to come in and he followed me
into the kitchen. "Mom left like an hour ago. Do you need
something?"

"No, actually, I just stopped by to see how
you're doing."

I spun around, surprised. "Well, I've had
better weeks, but I'll be fine."

He smiled. I'd never really paid attention to
how nice his smile was. In fact, looking at him now was like
looking at him for the first time. I realized he was actually kind
of attractive. I also knew he was a good, sweet guy. I thought
maybe someday, when I put myself somewhat back together, we could
at least be friends. Real friends who hung out and did things.

Then I remembered Tristan was the only person
who hadn't fled when he learned the truth about me. I swallowed
hard, fighting tears down, not wanting Owen to see me cry.

"No visitors?" he asked.

"Uh, no."
Why would he want to know
that?

"Okay." Awkward silence. "Would you, uh, want
to go to the beach or something…maybe…sometime?"

He must have been asking if Tristan,
specifically, had visited. I wondered if he was afraid of him,
knowing what just a small bit of Tristan's wrath felt like.

"Um, I don't know right now, actually. I've
been ignoring my book and…"

"Yeah, that's cool. I understand." He smiled
weakly. We stood there awkwardly, then his head cocked and his eyes
seemed distant for a brief moment. He headed for the door. "Well,
uh, you're okay here?"

I smiled and thought my cheeks would crack
from the falsity of it. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay." He didn't seem convinced, but didn't
press it.

"Very weird," I muttered to myself after he
left. Over time, we'd become a lot friendlier at the store, but
nothing more. He came around sometimes to fix something around the
house, but we never talked; I was always shut in my room, writing.
I wondered what prompted him to stop by and just check up on me. He
hadn't done that since Mom had left town that one weekend. I
figured he was just trying to be a friend, worried after seeing the
whole thing go down at the pub.

I headed to the kitchen to dump my soggy
cereal. There was another knock and the door opened.

"What now, Owen?"

I took two steps into the hallway and ran
into—electric pulses through my body—
Tristan.
My stomach
rolled and fell to my thighs.

"Oh," I breathed. We both stopped dead.
Mmm…he smells so good.
I couldn't look at his face, though,
so I stared at the floor. He put his thumb under my chin—more
electric shocks—and lifted my face, forcing me to look at him.

"You look like hell," he said. I pulled my
face away and headed back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's what I've been told." I turned
and glared at him, then said harshly, "You can thank yourself for
that."

He scowled. "I do blame myself," he
muttered.

He didn't look too good either. Still
beautiful, just…wrong.

"You look like hell, too," I said.

He looked down at the box he held. "I brought
this over for you."

He held the brown box out to me. I didn't
take it.

"I don't want anything from you," I said
coldly. His face broke, sadness overcoming it.
Why am I acting
like this?
I couldn't look at him so I grabbed my bowl of soggy
cereal from the table and took it over to the sink.

"It's your stuff," he mumbled. He set it on
the table. "I was going through things before I started
packing."

I whirled on him, dirty milk sloshing
everywhere.

"You're
packing
?" Panic squeezed my
chest.

"Yes, I'm moving."

"You're
moving
?" The bowl fell out of
my hands and clamored into the sink. I couldn't breathe.
Don't
leave me!
I swallowed hard to push down the lump in my throat.
I thought it was my heart. I fought back tears, refusing to let him
see me cry again.

"I shouldn't be around here." He studied my
face, tried to look into my eyes, but I looked away, afraid of what
he might see. He added quietly, "And, I guess there's nothing to
stay for."

Me! Stay here for me! You can't leave
me!
I took a deep breath. I hoped he didn't hear how ragged it
was…or that he did. And then I hoped he'd see the tears fighting to
break so he'd know how I felt without my having to say it. Then I
was scared of his reaction…or non-reaction. That he wouldn't
care.

"Oh," I finally said, not able to say
anything else, because if I did, it would only result in more
rejection and pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I said honestly. He scowled again. "But
I'll be fine. No permanent damage done, I'm sure."

Liar!
Pain flashed across his eyes and
then he composed himself.

"Yeah, of course. Well, I guess I'll leave
you alone." He lifted my chin with his thumb again and gazed into
my eyes. I couldn't even see the specks of gold in his, they were
so dim. No sparkle at all. I could feel the tears again. His eyes
softened and he looked so sincere when he said it… "I
do
love you,
ma lykita
. Forever."

Before I could even blink, he was out the
door. I stood there in shock for several beats.
Oh, God!
I
bolted for the door, threw it open and ran outside.

"
Tristan!
" I yelled.

He was already gone.

Some kids across the street stared at me
while I just stood there, still in my PJs, looking frantically up
and down the street. It was as if he'd disappeared.

I trudged back inside and cried for several
hours. I didn't know what to believe anymore. Part of me wanted to
run to him, to believe he loved me. Another part screamed in
protest, reminding me I couldn't trust him, he'd only hurt me
again. And a very small third part said to stop crying and get over
him already. The other parts yelled at that one to shut the hell up
because I didn't want to get over him. Even if it meant being
miserable.

I remembered the box, brought it into my room
before I opened it and found only a couple of things inside. There
was my blouse I'd been wearing one night when we made dinner at his
house and the sauce splattered all over it, so he gave me one of
his t-shirts to wear. His scent permeated my blouse. I buried my
face in it and inhaled deeply.
Mmm…mangos and papayas, lime and
sage, and a hint of man….
I remembered I still had his shirt
somewhere. I searched in the bottom of my closet for it and put it
to my face.
Mmm…
I pulled it over my tank top. The only
other items were the framed poem I'd given him for Christmas, my
engagement ring and a note.

My Dearest, Beloved Alexis,

I love you. Te amo.
Je
t'aime
. Se ayapo.
Ti
amo
.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I don't know how many times or how many
ways I need to say it before you will believe me. I am sure you
have lost all trust in me now and I understand. I hope you will
understand one day it was not my place to tell you about the Amadis
arrangement. All I could do was make it happen and that is what led
me to fall completely, irreversibly, undeniably in love with you.
You bring the very best out of me, especially the ability to love
and allow myself to be loved. After all we have shared, I just
don't know how else I can convince you that my love is irrefutably
authentic. You
are
my soul mate.

I am returning the poem you wrote for me
because I cannot keep it, knowing you do not feel that love for me
anymore. I also want you to keep your ring. I designed it
especially for you with the intent of you keeping it forever. Do
with it what you want. It is yours and always will be—just like my
heart.

I want to believe in you and me together
forever, but if you do not come back to me, my forever is over.
Without you, my world is bleak again. I beg that you will bring
your light back into my life, but if not, I understand and will
accept existing in darkness.

I love you more than any soul has ever loved
another, my Lexi, ma lykita.

From the deepest, darkest corners of my
heart,

ALL
of my love,

Tristan

Tears streamed down my cheeks at the first
line and I was bawling by the time I finished it. I read it over
and over, tears staining it, causing the ink to run in places. I
finally dropped it back into the box and held my blouse to my face
as I curled up and sobbed.

Mom came in later, after darkness had
consumed my room. She flipped the light on, blinding me.

"I thought this morning…" She stopped when I
flicked my hand toward the box.

She sat on my bed and peered into it. She
picked up the framed poem, read it and set it on my nightstand. I
stared at it. I already had the poem memorized. I cried. She picked
up my ring and the note and, after reading the note, she placed it
in front of the poem and put my ring on top. I cried.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft
and quiet. "Alexis, I think you both want the same thing. Why don't
you just…"

I interrupted her. "I just can't yet,
Mom."