Chapter 13
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The week passed entirely too quickly. By their second day, Lucian gave the servants some much-needed time off so that the two of them could be more at ease at the estate. Having always grown up with servants, their presence didn’t affect him the way it affected Evelyn. Used to living with a man who never stopped moving and whose presence was always requested, she found a much-appreciated silence to their days, filled with tender glances, affectionate touches, and long afternoons of making love.
The mornings were chilly, but the days were growing warmer. They had taken to spending the afternoons out back looking over the vista.
Lucian tried to educate her on the various types of wine, but she wasn’t impressed. All wine tasted like fruit and dried-up flowers to her palate. She wasn’t very sophisticated when it came to her palate. Food quieted hunger and drink quenched thirst. Intoxication, she discovered, was just fun. She always tended to enjoy most the bottles he had her sample last, because by that time she was drunk.
Evelyn giggled as Lucian traced a cut strawberry over her mouth. His lips curled gently as he leaned in to lick away the berry-flavored juice. “Mm, you are delicious, Ms. Keats.”
Head resting on his broad shoulder, she lowered her lashes and let her mind fly away, drunk on berries, wine, and all things Lucian. “Why, thank you, Mr. Patras.”
His fingers played at the hem of her linen dress, tickling her knee with each pass. He audibly breathed in the fresh spring air. “Can you smell that? The lilacs are blooming.”
Her lashes fluttered as she looked around for the flowers he was referring to. “Where are lilacs?”
“Over the hill there. They were my mother’s favorite. Every year she would have the servants cut bushels of them and fill the house. She hated winter, and once the house filled with the bursting fragrance of lilac, I always knew her mood would be a little bit lighter.”
“What was she like?” she asked, shutting her eyes once more, allowing the sun to warm her face.
He sighed retrospectively. “My mother was like one of those paintings you see in a museum, beautiful but overlooked somehow because it was placed beside too many famous portraits.”
“Was she sad?” She asked only because whenever Lucian mentioned his mother his voice took on a lamenting quality that pulled at her heart.
“She wanted nothing more than to be happy, but for some reason she needed my father to be present for that.”
“Did they not have a good marriage?”
“My father saw everything in life as either a merger or acquisition. My mother was no exception.”
“You never got along with your father, did you?”
“No.”
There was no way she was touching that. “Tell me a happy memory from your childhood, Lucian.”
He eased back, his hand gliding to her hair and pulling gently in a way that made her sleepy. “When I was nine we went to the circus. Isadora made a big stink about the animals being mistreated. She has something of a bleeding heart for creatures that can’t defend themselves. I was unimpressed with the idea of watching a bunch of acrobats. Mostly because I was going through a bratty stage and I was irritated both my parents were absent.
“Louis, our old butler, had driven us. When the show began I was unprepared for the fanfare. There is something about the circus that’s simply . . . majestic. Real people climbing to heights that hurt to look at and performing feats that no ordinary man could do. I was entranced the moment it started.
“It wasn’t the lion tamer that impressed me. He had a whip and a chair. Had he gone at the beast on his own, perhaps then I would have found his performance more remarkable, but no. It was the young woman on the tightrope that fascinated me most.”
Evelyn smiled, trying to imagine a young Lucian at the circus. It didn’t compute. In her mind he was born middle-aged, a smaller version of his intimidating self, holding a swirled, pinwheel lollipop, and swimming in a too-large power suit.
“Why the tightrope?”
“Her feet were so small. She held a stick, but required nothing from anyone else. I remember glancing around. Clowns raced on tricycles, an elephant paraded over the sandy ground below, people shouted and clapped as an acrobat did cartwheels and flips. No one seemed to see her but me.
“To my left, Toni bounced on Louis’s knee, cotton candy chapping her cheeks in sticky pink. I watched the woman on the tightrope tune out everything and focus on getting from one end to the other. It must have been a hundred feet wide, the tent. I feared she’d fall. There was a net, but I wanted her to succeed, stay above the others. I wanted her to walk on the narrow line because no ordinary person could. I think I held my breath the entire time.
“When she reached the center point, she fell. I jumped to my feet only to realize it was part of the act. She caught herself with her legs and hung as someone tossed up a paper fan, a parasol, and a unicycle. She used her teeth, hands, and feet, whatever she had in order to hold the items and right herself. I was blown away. When she reached the end of the rope I felt such overwhelming pride and happiness for her accomplishment. Then she climbed down and I actually saw her up close. She was no more than twelve, a child.
“That evening, I returned home dreaming about running away with the circus and feeling more inspired than I ever had before. It was the first time I actually grasped the concept of inspiration. I went in believing the show would be for babies and I saw performances that mimicked dreams. The scent of roasted nuts, hay, and sugar, colliding with the smells of animals and people all crammed into an enormous tent. I loved it all, from the East Indian music to the glitzy costumes.”
She smiled at him, loving the way his voice took her there, to a place she had never seen. “It sounds magical.”
“That’s a word for it. Magic.”
“I’ve never been to the circus. I used to think of Patras Hotel as the big top.”
He glanced down at her, laugh lines creasing his eyes. He’d gotten some sun. “You did, did you?”
“Mm-hm. I loved watching the fancy performers put on a show for the ordinary people. I was in awe at the glamor of such life.”
“And how does it feel to be a part of all that glamor now?”
“I feel like I’m playing, a little girl allowed to try on fancy costumes and make believe I belong.”
His brow creased and his smile faltered. “You do belong, Evelyn.”
Her lips curved softly, appreciating his effort to convince her otherwise. “No, Lucian. No matter how much I dress up and put on airs, I’ll always be the girl born in an alley.”
Lips pursed, he whispered, “Then I will always be the little boy afraid of my dad and sad for my mother.”
They sighed. Lucian lowered himself to rest his head on his arms and stared at her. After a while he said, “People change, Evelyn. We all grow and adapt and learn. Eventually we all break out of the mold we were assigned to and find a better fit. You never fit at the tracks. I see them and I see you and there is a difference, whether you see it or not.”
She said nothing. Was there a difference? She’d hated living on the streets and did everything she could to escape, but did she fit here, with Lucian? The problem with being homeless was never truly knowing what home felt like. The warm feeling she got when around Lucian was the closest she could guess to what having a home felt like. Belonging.
Once Parker had read her Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Perhaps she was Goldilocks. Everything she tried was either too big or too small, too hard or too tight. She wanted nothing more than to discover what it truly felt like to find just right.
They made love under the warming March sun, the cooling breeze rich with the scent of lilac. Later they napped and awoke for a quiet dinner followed by some television and a quiet game of chess that led to the two of them making love before they made it to their room. For as nice as Lucian’s bed was, they never seemed to make it there.
It was a perfect week. Whatever had been stressing Lucian seemed to stay in the city. Evelyn was afraid of what would come when they returned home. She hoped whatever the cause of his tension, it was concluded and irrelevant now. Lucian always had so many deals going on. These past few days were how she always wanted things to be.
It was wonderful to be with someone who loved her without expecting anything in return. All of her life she’d survived on a formula of trade, tit for tat. No one ever gave without wanting in return. Sadly, that even applied to her mother. But Lucian seemed to simply want . . . her.
For the first time in her life she felt like she belonged to herself. It was a new and extraordinary feeling.
They visited Pearl one afternoon. That was the only downside to their week. As usual, Evelyn left in tears. Her mother showed no gratitude for the shelter she’d been given. She never acknowledged Lucian with anything more than scorn and often blamed Evelyn for her misery as well.
Evelyn didn’t know how to make things any clearer. They were helping her. Pearl would’ve died last winter if not for Lucian and Dr. Sheffield. There was not a doubt in her mind that if her mother ever returned to the streets and her hard way of living, pulled between selling herself for drugs and being so stoned she’d sometimes sleep in her own waste, that she would wither away to nothing and die. How a return to such a pitiful existence tempted her mother, she would never understand. But it remained one of Evelyn’s greatest fears.
Before Lucian, the only thing she was given in this life that was solely hers was a mother. It didn’t matter how sick or screwed up Pearl was. She was hers.
In a life of uncertainty, that one absolute made a world of difference. Even Lucian, no matter how much she depended on him and trusted him, could never be as bonded to her as her own mother. Emotions changed; genetics remained the same forever.
It took months for Evelyn to finally trust Lucian enough to believe he wouldn’t someday suddenly turn her away and leave her desolate with nowhere but the shelters to return to. She wasn’t sure when exactly she gave him that trust. She just knew one day it was there when before it wasn’t. And even now, old insecurities sometimes reared their ugly heads.
Although Lucian would likely tire of her eventually and move on—a thought that caused her physical pain—she knew he would never let her return to the streets. He would never just up and abandon her. But, being a realist, it was one of the reasons she knew she needed to return to work.
She was approaching a time to make a decision about her life. She couldn’t simply exist through him. She needed her own identity. That didn’t mean they had to split up, it was just something she never had and knew she wanted. Evelyn wanted to be as independent as that acrobat from Lucian’s childhood. She needed to know she could do it on her own.
She desired that sense of self without the stress of hunger, survival, and constantly seeking shelter. She watched women her age every day go about their lives with a sense of purpose. Evelyn wanted to find out what her purpose in this life was. It couldn’t be to simply satisfy Lucian and protect her mother. She needed to do something for herself, and that need knocked more and more as she adjusted to the security of her new life.
She had some ideas requiring her to meet with a few dealers about her jewelry. Patrice and the girls at the salon had commented on her work and asked her to make them bracelets.
She mentioned her plans to Lucian about maybe selling her items and asked him if he thought it was a good idea, trusting him to tell her if he thought it was stupid. He didn’t. He said he would think about it, but then went on a tangent about production and marketing and stuff that had nothing to do with the creating and design aspects. Suddenly feeling in over her head, she decided to just make trinkets for friends for a while.
Friends. She had never really had friends. The realization had her smiling several times throughout the week as she let it sink in. Lots of things were sinking in that week, things she never spent much time reflecting on in the city. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of the estate that helped her see things a little more clearly.
She’d come such a long way from where she was. Like Lucian said, she was breaking out of the mold. Even Parker had found himself a job. Everything just seemed so . . . perfect. And with that sense of perfection came a stark and frightening paranoia. Nothing lasts forever.
They were due to return to the city tomorrow. While she was sad to leave the estate, Lucian now seemed high-strung, almost hyper. Perhaps he was getting cabin fever and anxious to return to work. She wasn’t used to seeing him that way. He was nervous, but also euphoric, as though something big was on the horizon.
She watched him throughout dinner, wondering if he had heard from a colleague, maybe gotten some good news about a deal or something. They finished dessert and he cleared away the plates with an asinine grin on his face.
She laughed. “What’s with you? You’ve been grinning like that all day.”
He stilled as if to consider her statement. Shrugging, he said, “I’m happy.”
As he cleared the rest of the dishes, he paused to brush several kisses to her lips whenever he leaned over the table, but every time she tried for more he pulled away.
“I’m going to go change into sweats,” she said, standing and carrying the last dish to the sink.
Lucian stilled.
She looked at him, trying to make sense of his mood. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. Do you want to have a match after you’re done?”
“Sure.”
He turned and kissed her slow and long, leaving her head a little fuzzy as she walked upstairs. After slipping into an oversized white crew-neck sweater and a pair of navy blue yoga pants, she pulled up her hair and headed down to the library. Music was softly playing and the lights were dim.
She paused at the door when she saw the candles flickering from the sconces on the walls. “You’re trying to throw off my game by distracting me with ambiance, aren’t you? I’ve gotten too good for you. I knew I would.” She buffed her nails on her shoulder. “Prepared to be defeated.”
He chuckled and pulled out the heavy, ornate chessboard. Evelyn settled onto the floor across from him as he lifted the lid off the velvet-lined box and carefully removed each ivory piece. She was always white.
“Do you remember our first game?” he asked.
How could she forget? Heat crawled up her throat as she sipped the glass of wine Lucian had poured her.
“Yes.” As the crystal rim pressed to her lips she hid a smile. “You may have captured my king, but if I remember correctly, I still walked away with my panties intact.”
His hand froze over the ivory bishop he was placing beside her queen, and he chuckled. “You looked at me with those big doe eyes. What was I supposed to do?”
“Exactly what you did, be a gentleman and let me walk away with at least a shred of dignity.”
“That shred was a thong. My thoughts were anything but gentlemanly,” he mumbled as he lifted the lid off the box of onyx pieces. “Do you remember what I said to you that night?”
“That the king can do whatever he wants?” She smiled cheekily and he smirked.
They really were comfortable with each other. She never had to worry about what she said or fear he would laugh at her for being so uninformed about normal everyday things.
Evelyn knew things most people never needed or wanted to know, like how to tell if meat was rancid, or which storm drains flood and which could be used to block the wind on below-freezing nights. Yet she was clueless about things that were common knowledge, like the fact that the news was on television every day at five, or that every single person in the world now basically had a computer, or whatever the hell a Tickle Me Elmo was. But no matter what, Lucian never held her ignorance against her or made her feel less than anyone else.
He placed the onyx queen on the board beside his king. “And what about this old girl?”
“Oh, well she’s got all the power, of course.”
“She must protect her king, and never stray too far, Evelyn. That’s key.”
“I do believe I’ve kicked your ass before when she abandoned the king and ransacked your front line, Lucian.”
“You won that time because your foot was on my cock and I wanted your mouth there. You said I couldn’t touch you until the game was over.”
“Excuses. Excuses.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’ve only beaten me three times. Each victory I was under extreme duress!”
She laughed. “Oh, is that it then? You really are a sore loser, Mr. Patras. I believe it was you who told me chess is a lyrical exchange of aggression and surrender. You must learn to surrender a bit more gracefully, sir.”
His laughter bubbled up and faded into silence as their gazes met.
“What?” she asked, unsure what to make of the serious expression on his face.
“You remembered my words.”
“I love your words. You have a great vocabulary and way of putting things.”
“Why such an obsession with language, Evelyn?”
She shrugged. “If I could use big words and sound intelligent, people wouldn’t think I was stupid or know I was illiterate.”
“You were never stupid and you’re learning to read and write better every day.”
“I know,” she said quietly and cleared her throat. Her gaze fastened to the board, now set and ready for a match.
“Who is the king’s greatest asset?” he whispered.
Her eyes went to the queen. She loved this board. The pieces were so ornate and beautifully hand-carved with little faces. She even loved the opalescent gleam swirling over the checkered surface of the board. She’d come to think of the board as half hers.
“The queen,” she whispered softly, admiring the priceless carvings.
A shadow passed over the board and Lucian placed something in the center. “Be my queen, Evelyn.”
She sucked in a breath as a sickening dread rushed through her. Her eyes jerked to the tiny satin box, and then to his face. His expression was an unreadable mask, but his eyes showed a myriad of emotions, hope, fear, anxiousness, love.
“Wh-what?”
“I love you. I don’t want you to stray too far. I want you to be the solace I come home to each night. Protect me. Let me be your shelter and protect you, always. Be my queen and let me take care of you. Marry me.”
Her mouth was producing too much saliva yet her throat was too dry to swallow. Tension settled onto her shoulders like a heavy weight, and she found it suddenly difficult to breathe. He leaned forward and opened the box.
She gasped. It was her missing sea glass, the piece she loved, smoothed into two perfect pearls nestled around a humongous diamond. It was in the traditional kite shape she knew there was a name for, but at the moment words were beyond her grasp.
He lifted it out of the box and his fingers slightly trembled. Lucian Patras didn’t tremble. He was an oak.
“If you don’t like it, we can pick another. It’s my mother’s stone. Do you recognize the pearls?”
They were stunning, perfect spheres swirled with plum, jade, and cerulean blue. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Forcing her dry throat to open, she cleared it, and rasped, “My favorite piece.”
“Because beauty can be found anywhere, Evelyn. It doesn’t matter where it comes from. I think those glass pieces are more beautiful than the six-carat diamond. Let me put it on you.”
Without thinking, her hands jerked out of reach.
“Evelyn?” He frowned at her.
“I . . . I need to go to the bathroom.” She scrambled off the floor and fled the library before he could stop her. Passing the powder room near the den, she ran up the steps and directly to the rarely used hall bathroom. Her unsteady fingers quickly locked the door. Pressing her back against the heavy wood, she breathed and massaged her temples.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” she hissed.
This was horrible. This was a nightmare. She couldn’t marry him! Then when he decided to leave, which she knew he eventually would, things would be so much more horrendously messy. Why was he doing this to them?
And he would make her sign a pre-nup and people would find out where she was from and call her horrible names like gold-digging whore. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air.
Rushing to the window, she pulled back the curtains and broke a nail trying to open the window. Stupid lock! Once it was unlocked it went up a lot easier. She sucked in gulps of air, but that still wasn’t helping.
She went to the sink and turned the cold knob. Cool water rushed over her wrists. She splashed her face and returned to the window. The night air chilled her damp skin and some semblance of calm set in.
She had no idea how long she was in there. Her face was chilled to the bone when she left and all of her nails were bitten down to the quick. The scent of extinguished candles swept through the hall as she approached the den and the lamps were now turned on.
Lucian looked up as she stood in the doorway. His arm draped over the couch and an empty glass dangled from his hand. His gaze fell on her and he frowned.
Neither of them said a word. She opened her mouth, but what could she say? She looked around the room for the box holding the ring, but couldn’t find it.
She’d never known such awkwardness. It seemed to take shape all around them, jostling their tense bodies, cementing their feet firmly in place. Paralysis took over and she was pretty sure that someone could set her clothes on fire in that moment and she would find it difficult to move.
Finally, he broke the silence. “You know, I played this moment through my mind, came up with a hundred different ways you could’ve reacted. I gotta say that wasn’t one of them.”
“You took me by surprise,” she mumbled.
“Well, now that you know what’s coming, do you think we can discuss it?”
“Lucian, I . . .”
“Evelyn, this isn’t something I’ve ever done or ever considered doing before. At least do me the courtesy of telling me what’s going through your mind. I mean, I have no idea what to make of this. Did you just need to find your bearings? Are you flat-out rejecting me? Is it the glass? The way I asked? Were you just caught off guard? I want nothing more than to slip this ring onto your finger and make love to you as my fiancée, but you feel a million miles away. Talk to me.”
In truth, she was only a few feet from him. She fought the urge to turn and run away again. Jamming her stubby thumbnail into her palm, she forced herself to step into the room.
She awkwardly sat on the edge of the couch, her body poised for fight or flight. “God, you don’t even want to sit with me. What the hell’s going on?” he asked.
Run. “I . . .”
“Do not even say you need to use the bathroom again.”
“Sorry, you just took me off guard.”
“So you’ve said. That is the traditional way to propose, I’m told.”
Propose. She never once imagined herself married. The scenario simply didn’t work in her head. Where some girls played with dolls and dreamed of white dresses, she played with branches that looked like people and dreamed of warm clothing. She had never been more unprepared for a moment in her entire life.
“Lucian,” her voice was barely a whisper. They were only supposed to play chess. “You don’t want to marry me.”
“Don’t tell me what I want, Evelyn. I don’t make hasty decisions.”
“Okay, maybe you want to get married, but why would you want to marry me?”
He looked at her as if she admitted to something as heinous as boiling puppies for fun. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, fun, beautiful, you make me happy. Evelyn, I love you. Don’t you get it?”
She shook her head, dumbfounded. “No, I don’t.”
His frustrated expression crumbled to a look of insecurity that was so unfitting on Lucian’s face. He frowned, his lips thin as he worked out his words. “Evelyn, do you . . . do you love me?”
She shut her eyes. Pain knifed through her as if something unbearable sat on her chest. She couldn’t say it. Once someone had another person’s love, they took advantage of it, took it for granted, killed it. It was giving someone ultimate power. “I care for you—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit! It’s a simple question. Do. You. Love. Me? Yes or no?”
“I . . . I don’t say that.”
“Well, do you feel it? I love you. Give me something here. We’ve been together for months. I tell you almost every day. I see the way you look at me. What we do, it isn’t always fucking. I’ve felt you make love to me. Why can’t you just admit it?”
“Because I’ve only ever said that to one person and she’s done nothing but hurt me my entire life!” Startled by the anger in her voice, she covered her mouth. He was cornering her emotionally and she didn’t like it. He seemed undeterred.
“I’m not your mother. I would never use you the way she does.”
“You don’t know that. You’ve known me for less than half a year, Lucian. Marriage is supposed to be forever. I’m too much of a cynic to believe in such things, and you’re too much of a realist to consider a man like you marrying a girl like me feasible.”
“Stop referring to yourself as some sort of anomaly. You’re just as good as everyone else. Fuck the past,” he hissed and took her hands in his. “I love you,” he whispered. “I know you love me too, whether you admit it or not.”
“I’m sorry.”
His expression slowly darkened and his eyes narrowed. “Marry me, Evelyn.”
Was she talking to a wall? “Lucian, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s a simple yes. You agree to be my wife and we get married. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or even this year, just say yes and when it’s time we’ll say vows. I won’t rush you. I promise. I just need to hear you say you’ll be my wife.”
She’d never seen this desperate side of him before. It threw her. He was being irrational. “That isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Lucian. Listen to yourself. You are asking me to promise my life to you.”
“Fuck how it’s supposed to be! And I know what I’m doing!”
She jerked back. “What’s wrong with you?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Nothing. Everything. Fuck!”
She flinched. “Maybe we should go to bed.”
“No!” He grabbed hold of her wrist, startling her. Next thing she knew he was on his knees. “Evelyn Keats, I love you. I promise to always be faithful to you, take care of you, honor you with every bit of my being far past my last breath, so long as you agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
She didn’t know if she should cry or be scared. Was he having some sort of episode? “Lucian, you’re starting to freak me out.”
He reached in his pocket and withdrew the box. His hands shook as he removed the ring, letting the box fall to the floor. He gripped her fingers and moved to slide it on her finger. “Just let me put it on your finger. It’s only a ring—”
She jerked her hand away and stood. “No! What’s gotten into you? Lucian, you’re moving way too fast and you aren’t listening to a word I say.”
She stepped around him and stormed to the door.
“Evelyn, wait! Please, don’t leave. I just . . . I . . . would you please just wear the ring? For one month, that’s it. Then you can throw it away for all I care. We won’t call it an engagement ring. It’ll be just another piece of jewelry you wear. One month.”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Unable to listen to any more, she turned.
“Goddamn it, Evelyn, I can’t let you say no! I know you don’t understand, but I need you to wear this ring. I’m fucking begging you.”
He was a stranger, sitting there on the floor, desperation making his eyes wild. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew, no matter what, that ring was never going on her finger after this display. Something was going on here and she had no idea what, but she wondered if Lucian was having some sort of breakdown.
“Lucian.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She was truly concerned for him. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but I am not going to marry you. I’m not ready. And frankly, neither are you. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever get married.”
“Evelyn,” he said slowly, his gaze on the floor. “I know all you want to say is no right now, but let this be one of those moments when you trust me to decide what’s right for us.”
She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t accept her answer. There was something behind his insistence that wasn’t adding up. “I’m sorry, Lucian, I can’t.”
His expression tightened. “You gave me your word you wouldn’t tell me no.”
“In bed! I never promised to sign over my free will! Now, stop this. My answer is no. I’m not discussing it anymore. I have a headache and I’m going to bed.”
“Evelyn . . .”
She had every intention of walking out the door without turning back and letting him cool off, but something in his voice stopped her. She turned and didn’t know what to make of the uncertainty showing in his eyes.
He swallowed. “If you won’t take this ring, we . . .” His head shook. “When we return to Folsom . . .”
“Lucian, you’re really scaring me. Should I call your sister?”
“No.” It was barely a whisper. She never saw Lucian cry, didn’t believe he was capable of such a thing, but when he looked up at her she swore she saw tears shimmering through the defeated look in his eyes. “We need to take a break.”
Ice zipped through her veins, pulling her spine straight and sucking all her breath away. “What? Why?”
“If you won’t say you’ll marry me, we need to take a break.”
What kind of fucked-up reasoning was that? She scowled indignantly. “Why?”
“Because . . . we just do. One month apart without communicating. After that month we can get back together and—”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Now she was mad. “Why are you making all these rules? None of this makes any sense. Lucian, I’m sorry I’m not ready for marriage. Five months ago I was a totally different person. You need to give me time to adjust to all this. I barely know how to be normal, let alone be someone’s wife. You’re being unreasonable.”
“Will you wear the ring?”
A sharp ringing sang in her ears. She wanted to punch something and scream. “I told you. No.”
“Then we need to take a break—”
“Because I won’t marry you?”
“There’s an apartment. It’s paid for. I’ll pay the rent as long as you want, but I hope this only takes a month—”
This was not happening. The apartment was for her! She saw red.
“Fuck you, Patras!” She practically spat the words. “I won’t be manipulated and I don’t do ultimatums. What’s wrong with the way things were? Why this sudden need to get married? And now you’re kicking me out! Don’t bother. I’ll fucking leave.”
Her hands were trembling. She had to remain angry or she feared she would die. She couldn’t acknowledge the hurt lancing her chest, the horrible, aching disappointment and heartache taking over her body. She needed to keep moving.
“Evelyn, I love you. It won’t be forever. Thirty days, I swear it, and we can return to normal. I give you my word—”
“Who does that? This is ridiculous! I don’t understand why you would want a break at all if you already know you’ll want me back. Why do we need a break? You’re messing with my head on purpose.”
She wiped her eyes and realized her cheeks were wet. Fuck.
Lucian stood and slowly approached her. She didn’t want him to touch her. She’d break if he laid one finger on her, but she would shatter if she tried to move. She was holding it together by a thread.
We were only supposed to play chess.
Her finger brushed away more tears as he stepped close. His hands took hers. A moan uttered past her lips, a bit of the pain seeping out.
“I’m sorry, love. Please don’t cry.”
Her shoulder shook. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes shut for a long moment. When they opened they shimmered with unshed tears. “I have to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. It’s just something I have to do. No matter what, Evelyn, I will be here in a month. I’ll spend every day thinking about you, wondering if you’re okay. It’s going to kill me not to be able to call and hear your voice.”
“Why? Why can’t you call me? Lucian, please . . . you aren’t making any sense.”
He kissed her knuckles, whispering over her fingers as though praying to himself. “Promise you’ll come back. No matter what, promise you won’t . . .” He bowed his head, gripping her fingers tight and pressing them hard to his lips. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “I need you, Evelyn. I’m nothing without you.”
Why? Why? Why? Why?
After all of his lectures on honesty being necessary for trust, he expected her to trust him now when he was obviously keeping secrets from her? She yanked her hands from his, her anger back in spades. “Then don’t do this to us. When you love someone you don’t throw them away for no reason!”
“I’m not throwing you away. God—”
“Then what the fuck is this? You’re sending me to live in some apartment for a month—” The apartment he had been on the phone talking about. Her fists beat into his chest. “You planned this! You knew you were going to send me away and gave me no warning! I trusted you to never abandon me without warning and that’s exactly what you’re doing!”
He caught her fists and restrained her. “No, Evelyn! I planned on coming here and leaving with your promise to be my wife.”
“So you’re punishing me?”
“This is more a punishment to me than anyone!” he roared.
With some superhuman strength, she yanked her hands away. She glared at him with scathing anger. “I respected you. I thought you were a man of your word. I trusted you.” She stepped back. “I can barely look at you now. I don’t believe you. I think you knew I’d say no. You did this on purpose because you’re too much of a coward to break up with me.”
“I am a man of my word! If I wasn’t a man of my word we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation! And I don’t want to break up. I want you to be my fucking wife!”
“You’re talking in riddles. I’m done trying to figure you out. This whole night was ruined the minute you took out that ring. You know what I think? I think you’re a coward no matter how you deny it. The Lucian I know would never let someone he loved walk out on him. No. He’d make it impossible for them to leave. You’ve been acting different for a while now. I think you wanted to break up and were too much of a coward to say it. I think you were purposely trying to push me away. You knew proposing marriage would do the trick. Well, I’m not a coward, Lucian. I’m not some charity case you need to feel responsible for either. We don’t need a break. We’re over.”
She turned and left the room. Lucian chased her into the hall. “Evelyn!”
She spun on her heel. “I hate that fucking name! My name is Scout! Do you hear me? Scout! Stay away from me. I can’t even look at you right now.”
“I won’t be able to fix this for a month. Please, don’t let it end like this.”
She walked, not stopping until she was safely away from him and in their bedroom—correction, his bedroom. As the door slammed, shards of glass seemed to slice open her heart. She collapsed on the floor and let the pain inside of her swallow her whole.