Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (28 page)

She took the rest of his clothes and threw them at him.

“You’re right about one thing…” she said as she began to cry in sorrow and anger. “I
do
deserve better,” she said as a sob escaped her throat.

Raising her head, tears began to fall, making their way down her cheeks as she nodded disapprovingly at what she believed he had become.

“…and
you are
a shallow bastard!”

With cries threatening to escape, she retreated into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Declan finished dressing in the quietness of the suite. The only sound that could be heard was Aria gently sobbing and the movement of his clothing. As he slipped on his shoes, he heard the door open.

Smiling, Aimee and Paige walked in. Once they saw Declan, their smiles quickly faded. It was obvious something had gone terribly wrong.

Knowing Aria and Declan had been left by themselves, the girls had kept themselves occupied overnight at Declan’s cottage with Carter and Blake. Judging by Declan’s reaction, a less than favorable outcome of their reunion had occurred.

Moving past them without a word, and out into the hallway, Declan offered no explanation. They were left to deduct exactly what had transpired that would leave Aria in her bedroom in tears and Declan leaving the suite with a scowl…

She walked at the water’s edge. Once the tears washed the anger away, she sought the ocean breeze to help clear her thoughts and soothe her soul.

A problem…protection…deserved better; What had he meant?

Declan was convinced that he had it all figured out, but everything he said made absolutely no sense to her.

Thoughts alternating between pleasure and pain, she remembered the feeling of her head as it lay on his chest while he was sleeping, and the contentment it invoked. She hadn’t yet moved as her head lay in the crook of his arm, his chin pressed into her forehead, almost leaving a slight indent from the pressure. His arm held her so close that she could clearly hear his heartbeat. The sweet sound anchored her there as its rhythm lulled her into a sense of protection. She hadn’t realized how she had taken it for granted, or not noticed it at all, until the pulsation secured her. Now, after his confusing disclosures, she wondered if he wasn’t the one that needed protecting.

Confused, she shook her head to clear it, then slowly began to walk along the shoreline. Relying on the sound of the Pacific to help her lay order to her confusion, she was absolutely certain of one thing—she was still deeply in love with Declan.

Hearing someone approach, she turned her head and saw Paige; the troubled look on her friend was unmistakable.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, trying to smile. “Different Ocean, but always by the water,” she stated, coming alongside of her friend.

Aria put her chin down toward her chest, nodding and smiling slightly at the true statement.

“Are you okay?” Paige asked, concerned. “What was that back there?”

“I’m not sure, Paige,” she answered. “That’s why I’m out here. I’m trying to figure it out myself. He’s different…but the same, and I know that doesn’t make any more sense to you than it does to me,” she confessed.

Pointing to a spot, Paige indicated that they should sit.

“It makes more sense to me than anyone. I know what it’s like to look almost the same on the outside, but be changed on the inside because of your circumstances.”

She tenderly looked at Aria.

“You of all people should know that,” she simply stated.

Aria, looking up toward the sky to blink back tears, pushed her hair back away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

Paige reached for her hand and lightly gave it a squeeze.

“Aria, you’ve never been insensitive to anyone that had an appearance issue. I was only trying to remind you that he has a new issue he’s dealing with,” she said.

“I know. Declan has had to adjust to a lot in a short amount of time. He’s had to compartmentalize a great deal,” Aria conceded.

They sat in silence for a while. The rustle of the palm trees and the soft crush of lightly crashing waves helped to quiet thoughts and soothe frayed senses.

“I think he still loves me, Paige,” Aria said without warning.

Paige acknowledged her words, but didn’t respond, giving Aria her attention.

“…and I know that I’m still in love with him,” she continued.

Throwing her head back, she took in a deep breath of ocean air.

“I just don’t know if what happened between us last night made the situation worse or better.”

Paige, allowing Aria a few minutes to absorb the heavy thoughts, finally commented.

“You’ll figure it out, Aria,” she said, smiling.

She tucked her friend’s wild hair behind her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re a pretty smart cookie,” she added.

“Yeah,” Aria agreed, laughing, and added, “with a lot of nuts!”

Marchelle positioned herself in an inconspicuous corner of the kitchen. This way, she was accessible to Marisol should she need her, but out of the direction of her infamous anger.

Since her return to the suite, Marisol was angry—unbelievably angry. She was unlike Marchelle had ever seen her—composed, but toxic.

She spoke aloud, but to no one in particular. Her words were calculating and murderous, indicating that she felt she had been played a fool, but her tone was what frightened her sister.

Usually, her voice would be raised in anger, but she spoke in a chilled monotone. Its icy determination had forced Marchelle to take cover, fearful for the rage she knew was lying just below the façade of a calm exterior.

Marisol walked slowly through the luxurious space, focusing on nothing as a blank stare reflected her countenance. The visions in her head provided all she needed for her viewing pleasure—her voice supplied the audio.

“He thought he would
play me?
Go behind my back when he thought I wouldn’t be with him, so he could go to her. All the time I spent with him in that hospital…I wasted those days. Damn him! He was planning to use me when he was broken, then get her back when he was better?! He was mistaken! I gave him every opportunity to apologize for his mistakes—and he made grave mistakes.
Yo nunca lo olvidare!
Bastardo!
Never will I forgive him. No, no, no…he does
not
deserve my mercy.
Nunca le perdonaré
…Never! He had insulted and embarrassed me by leaving me at the party. That was the first time. They reported that…yes. He humiliated me…insinuated that he was rejecting me. In public…
Me?
How
dare
he! But this! I will make him sorry for this.”

She ranted in a one tone voice that only changed slightly when she enunciated a word or two. This unsettled her sister, as she was unaccustomed to seeing Marisol pace with the harried look of a crazy person.

Peeking out from the kitchen, Marchelle was overcome by fear and helplessness. Marisol’s beauty was contorted by her anger.

Looking in the mirror, Marisol spoke, determined to convince herself that the perceived wrongdoing would be avenged.

Marchelle wanted to help her sister, console her—but it was impossible. Marisol was too independent to allow anyone to assist her, touch her, control her—love her.

Pushing away from the mirror, Marisol had, once again, begun to pace. She lifted a stone statue—a tropical bird—and appeared to look at it.

As Marchelle watched, Marisol pulled her arm behind her, and with all the force she possessed, hurled the bird at the mirror, smashing it into a million pieces.

“Son of a bitch! I am THE supermodel! Who does he think he is?!
No es importante!
I don’t need him—
Yo soy necesaria pa él!
He needs me! Everyone wants
me
! Not him!!”

Marchelle saw her sister pause as if something had occurred to her.

“Aimee
…It was her! She is her friend!” Marisol said, pointing her finger in the air. “She did this. It had to be her. She was sitting with the realtor! I know she had something to do with this! She is likely the one responsible for both of them being here! This is her fault!
Puta!
That bitch! She probably even planned it! She will be sorry she interfered!”

As Marisol began to make her way to the bedroom, the broken glass crunched under her foot, causing her to pause.

“Marchelle!” she yelled, noting her sister’s absence.

Marchelle stepped out from the kitchen, allowing her presence to be known. Marisol pointed to the floor, directing her sister’s attention to the mess.

“Clean this up—now!” she said, giving Marchelle an order.

Scurrying for a broom, Marchelle heard Marisol enter her bedroom. As the door was closing, she was issued another directive.

“When you’re finished that, bring me my tea!”

The bedroom door then closed with a loud bang.

Having returned to the cottage after Aria threw him out, he wasn’t in the mood to return to a party mindset. Blake and Carter were, mercifully, absent.

Opening a beer, he flopped into a chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He couldn’t get her, or her words, out of his head.

He didn’t have long to dwell on his thoughts before Carter and Blake came in. He only opened his eyes long enough to acknowledge their presence.

Surprised, Carter went to sit beside him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said.

“Me either,” Blake added, grabbing a chair and joining in.

Declan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, who would have known Aria would be here?”

He was met with silence. Blake and Carter exchanged looks, and he made a quick deduction.

“What the hell? You both knew? Was this a set-up?” he asked.

Carter met his question with silence. Blake avoided the question, and his eyes, entirely. Declan knew he had his answer.

“Shit!”

With his head hung low, he stared at the floor while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Were Aimee and Paige in on this too?” he asked.