A Love So Tragic
Authors: Stevie J. Cole
Copyright © 2016 by Stevie J. Cole
All rights reserved
This book is an original work of fiction. All of the names, characters, sponsors, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual events, incidences, persons, deceased or living, is strictly coincidental.
Any opinions expressed in this book or solely those of the authors.
A Love so Tragic
Copyright ©2016 by Stevie J. Cole
ISBN 978-1-944975-00-5
Published in the United States of America
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of Stevie J. Cole.
Editing: Indie Editor Jones
Proofreading: Ellen Wido and Kim Ginsberg
Cover Model: BT Urruela
Photographer: Eric Battershell Photography
Cover Design: Ikonic Imagery
The Mind by Kate Stewart Excerpt
This story is dedicated to my mother and father. Even though you’re no longer here, I live every day to make you proud. You are both still my heart because death does not kill love, only the person.
I’m not an author, but if I allow this pain to guide my words, I believe I can be.
By the time you finish this story, you may very well hate me. Actually, you'll probably hate me pretty close to the beginning, but try not to look at me as one of those people, because even though I am, I'm not. And that may not make sense to you now, but maybe it will at the end. You have to take this for what it is: wrong in every way, except one because throughout my life there has always been one part that was right, even if I let him go.
What I need you to do is think about that one person you have loved more than life itself. Now imagine your life without them. You try to move on and maybe you do, but nothing will ever feel the same. Imagine you could have that person back, but in order to do it you’ll have to become one of those people you hate. Would you do it? I know you want to believe you are a better person than
those
people, but really, if you could have them back, what kind of person would you become?
You may say I made mistakes, and I did. Sometimes, to end up where we're supposed to, we have to become one of those people. Heartache, guilt, insecurities—they can all make you do things you shouldn't. And regret, well, regret makes you appreciate things you may otherwise not.
The only way to possibly make you understand this is to start at the beginning, and even putting this story into words, nothing can pull you into my heart, there aren’t enough words to place you inside my soul. I need you to feel the magnitude of this romance. And words could never do Nicolas justice. If I could, I would let you live this, feel it, experience it the way I did, but I can't make you me. Just know that whatever you feel during the course of this story most likely isn't even a tenth of what I felt, and when you cry, it won't be as hard as I did.
You may say what I did was wrong, and I don’t deny that. But if you understood the way my heart felt, staying faithful would have been unforgivable.
I watch Nicolas walk toward me and my heart sinks. He looks like he hasn't slept, and when his gaze meets mine, he doesn't smile. I can't blame him.
“So, what do we do?” he asks, his thick Argentinean accent causing that question to sound all the more heartbreaking. He stops several feet in front of me like he knows he can't come any closer to me—like he wants to prove to me that I'm no longer his.
My vision blurs behind tears and all I can manage is a shrug. There are so many things I want to say to him, but I won't. He drags his hands through his dark hair, his honey-green eyes narrowing on me as he pulls his keys from his pocket and turns away. “Let's just...” he glances back at me. “Let's just go for a drive.”
I follow him to his car. Even though he should hate me, he still opens the door for me. I slide into the passenger side seat and he shuts the door. I look around inside, and it's strange knowing this is the last time I'll ever sit in here. It's funny the things that gut you in moments like this. There's a Playboy bunny sticker on his rear view mirror, I stuck that there. If I close my eyes, I can picture all the times we made love in here because we had nowhere else to go when we were eighteen. I think about how I was supposed to marry him, and now I'm marrying someone else. This is no longer my life, and the thing that kills me most is that one day the life I should have had with Nicolas will be someone else's life.
We drive for a few minutes before Nic pulls over into an empty parking lot. He grabs my hand, pulling it up to stare at the ring. Disgust mars his face when he tosses my hand back into my lap. “Do you love him?”
I swallow because I don’t. But how in the hell do you tell the man you love with every last fiber of your being that you're leaving him for a man you don’t love?
“Yes,” I choke on that lie. I pull the ring from my pocket—the beautiful princess cut diamond with baguettes on the sides that Nic gave me a year ago. My hand shakes as I hold it out, in a solitary gesture giving back every single promise I ever made to him.