Читать книгу The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection - Мишель Смарт, Kate Hardy - Страница 115
ОглавлениеZARA HADN’T SEEN Andres for at least fifteen minutes. He had slipped out of the ballroom at some point when she wasn’t looking, and she hadn’t seen him anywhere since. She knew he wasn’t in the room, because she felt the change.
Perhaps that sounded ridiculous, but she could feel his presence. Because it carried such weight. That connection they shared. Years of being alone had made it stronger, she was convinced. Or maybe it was so for everyone in love.
Though when you were the only one in love, perhaps it wasn’t.
She had been sitting at the table in utter silence, trying not to look as distressed as she felt, and probably failing miserably. She took a deep breath, standing, deciding that she was going to go find him now. She wasn’t one to wait. She wasn’t one to play games. And just because he seemed to prefer to operate with a thin veil of deceit between his words and his feelings did not mean she had to do it. She was going to force him to confront this. To discuss it. Because he was telling her lies, she was certain.
He felt more for her, for what they shared, than he claimed. She knew he did.
She strode through the ballroom, quite amazed that the crowd of people parted for her as they seemed to do for Andres. She really was a part of this place now. She was one of them.
Her happiness was dented by the situation she was in. It was very difficult to feel happy when your heart was ground to dust. Another new discovery. Though a rather logical one.
She left the ballroom, exiting the main double doors out the back, and finding herself in the corridor where she and Andres had first made love. She didn’t know what had led her here, but now that she was here, she knew it had been for a reason. This would be where he’d go. She was certain of it.
She rounded the corner from the ballroom, headed toward that alcove where they had first found their passion. And then she heard voices, rustling.
She stopped. Listening for a moment.
Her stomach twisted, sank deep down, terror gnawing at her insides, and still, she walked forward. Because she had to. Because he was there. She knew it.
She took one step, then another, headed toward the alcove. And when she rounded the corner, everything stopped.
It was Andres. And a woman. The woman was wearing a bright red dress, a crimson stain against Andres’s black suit. She was crushed hard against his body. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, his lips pressed hard to hers. He shifted, angling his head, and she saw his tongue slide against hers.
A cry escaped Zara’s lips and she clasped her hand over her mouth. The blonde jumped as though she’d been scalded, but Andres moved slowly, fluidly, raising his head in a lazy, laconic fashion, one eyebrow lifted.
“Zara.” He said her name so blandly. As though he wasn’t surprised. As though he wasn’t sorry. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Clearly,” she said, her tone vibrating with rage.
“I was a bit bored of the party.”
“Is that what you do when you’re bored at parties? Come out here and have women up against walls?”
“Don’t be dramatic. Obviously I wasn’t having her. Yet.”
The blonde made a coughing sound, her expression irritated. “I didn’t sign on for drama,” she said. “Just a little bit of fun with the prince.”
“Sorry,” Zara said, not feeling sorry at all. “This prince comes with drama. A rather large amount of it. In the form of me.”
“I shall leave you to it.” The woman moved away from Andres, walking closer to Zara. The light fell across her beautiful face, and Zara could see her red lipstick, smudged over to her cheek. That was how passionately he had been kissing her.
She had been wrong earlier. She thought her heart had been broken already. Damage done. But no, there were apparently some pieces left to shatter. To be ground beneath the stiletto of another woman.
It was his fault. Not hers.
That made it even worse.
She waited until the blonde was out of sight before trying to formulate a sentence. She would not give the other woman the satisfaction of hearing how upset she was.
“You lied to me.” The words were low, shaky. She felt as if they had cost her the very last bit of air in her lungs. As if she would pass out from the force it had taken to speak them.
“That’s what I do. I told you. I’m just a selfish playboy. And I’m sorry, but in situations like this I revert to type. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“Lies!” The word exploded from her with deadly force. She had suddenly found her strength. As he stood there, looking at her, his expression bland as though he had not just reached inside her chest and reordered all the new, beautiful things she had just discovered, she had found her strength. Her will to stand up to him. Her will to fight.
“You did it to hurt me.”
“Why would I? It’s just that I leave casualties in my wake. It’s what I do.”
“No! It’s what you choose to do!”
“Is there a difference?”
She took a step toward him, feeling fierce. Unafraid. She had nothing to lose. If Andres had been everything, then there was nothing to protect anymore. Because it was all gone.
“It is every difference. You are not at the mercy of this. You have made yourself this. You can blame no one but yourself.”
“I can’t blame the mother who walked out on me and the father who gave up on me?” he asked, his tone even. Far too smooth.
She wanted him broken.
“No. They did not fashion you. You fashioned yourself. You talk of it as though it is part of your legend. An amusing anecdote for you to throw out when it suits you, to put distance between yourself and your accuser. As if I will back away from you if I understand that you’re nothing more than a little boy wishing his mommy would come back and hug him. But I will not,” she said, her voice shaking. “I do not feel sorry for you. Because while your mother left you years ago, and while that certainly hurt you, you have been inflicting wounds upon yourself every day thereafter. That is not her fault. You cannot blame her anymore.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“You are in a hell of your own making! You cannot accept the fact that anyone might stay with you and so you’re intent on pushing everyone who loves you away. Why? Because one woman didn’t love you?”
“The only woman who should have loved me, simply because I was drawing breath, didn’t. That is an entirely different thing. And not only her. My father.”
“So that means you must not be worthy of love? That means that you have to set out to prove that those of us who are foolish enough to care for you are in fact fools? Why do you insist on putting a gun to your own head?”
“I know what I am, that’s all. There is no point in trying to refashion myself in a manner that I am unsuited to.”
“Who says you are unsuited? I have been with you these past weeks and you are suited to me. Until now. Until you dared touch another woman when you swore to me you would not.” Her throat tightened, pain lancing her. “You said that I would be the only one.”
“Yes. And I meant it then. I did. But things change. And that’s the way it is with me. I do not keep my word. I never have.”
“You are a liar.”
“No!” he roared back at her. “It is more than that. I have never kept my word. And in the end? I didn’t even try.”
“What?” The question came out small, weak.
“I told my mother that at the Christmas Eve dinner I would behave myself. That she could allow me out of my room this time. I had made mistakes, so many in years past that my mother had issued a decree I could no longer partake in public events. I could never sit still. I could never listen to instructions. I was a very bad boy. Always. I ruined everything that she did. Every appearance we had to make with the family. She mourned my existence, Zara. My very birth. They should have stopped with Kairos. She knew it. She told me. But that last time...that last time I didn’t even try. I broke my plate on purpose, made a mess of the table setting because I was so angry with her. And when she left I was glad because I would never have to try for her again.”
“Andres...”
“No. Do not look at me with those pitying eyes, Zara. What can you possibly know about it? For years I tried my damnedest. But it was never good enough. So when I stopped trying, I didn’t just stop trying. I did my best to be bad. To move so far past the point of redemption I could never be retrieved from beyond it. That’s the man I am now. I give in freely to my vices. I rejoiced at the loss of my mother because it meant there was no one left to try and control me and I could happily sink into the depths of debauchery. Marry me tomorrow if you want, Zara. But I will never love you. And you will never be able to be certain of my fidelity. How can you be when I will never be certain of it? When I will never do a damn thing to resist my own desires. I spent too many years trying and failing. I would not do it for my mother and I sure as hell won’t do it for you.”
“You bastard. You utter bastard. I am trapped here with you. You made me love you. You presented to me the stark truth that I have no other options beyond marrying you, and now, now that you have forced me to care, you tell me that I cannot have you.”
“Don’t be silly. You can have me. You just can’t have exclusive rights on me.”
“Then I don’t want you at all.”
“You can have your distance, Zara. I will ensure that you are taken care of. I will ensure that everything you need is handled. We will keep up appearances...”
“No.”
“Yes. And make no mistake, you will still be my wife. But you do not have to live with me. You do not have to love me.”
“No. I will not be your wife. I cannot.”
Andres ground his teeth together, his expression fierce. “I promised Kairos.”
“You break every promise. You said you enjoy being beyond redemption. So you should very much like this. You should’ve known that you could not cross me without retribution. I will not be made a fool of.”
“So you would not leave when you were given to me as a gift, a thing, but you will leave now for your pride?”
“Yes.” The word fell from her lips softly, confidently. “Because I’m a different woman now than I was when I first came to you. I was afraid then. Afraid that if I left the palace, if I left your care, I would simply die out in a snowbank somewhere. Afraid to let anyone close because the loss might kill me. But I know that isn’t true now. I’m stronger than that. I will leave here, and I will make a life for myself. Because I can. I can change. I can learn. I have shown myself that. But one thing I will not do is stay for this. This humiliation. This pain.”
She turned away, her hand shaking. She swallowed hard. “I loved leaning on your strength, Andres. But I am capable of standing on my own.”
“We are getting married tomorrow,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “My brother is announcing it tonight.”
“You should have thought of that before you betrayed me. I am not forgiving, Andres.” She hadn’t known that about herself. But now she did. She’d never had her heart broken before, not quite in this manner.
It turned out she was slightly vindictive. “I will not forgive you for this. Kairos and the fallout are your problem. The wedding, and what happens when I fail to appear, is your problem.”
She strode away from him, down the empty corridor, her high heels clicking on the marble, echoing in the space.
She rounded the corner, saw the two double doors that led outside and flung them open, bracing herself against the biting chill of the wind. It was snowing outside, a thick blanket of it covering the ground. She walked forward, wrapping her arms around herself, rubbing her bare skin with her hands. She could see her breath, and she became aware of a chill on her cheek.
She was crying. Tears falling down, leaving icy tracks behind. She looked back at the palace, and ahead at the blank canvas of white. She lifted up her full pink skirt and began to run through the snow as quickly as she could, her feet sinking deep into the icy cold, but she didn’t care. She slipped, falling down onto her knee, and forward, her gown billowing out around her. She stopped, letting the cold seep through. Down her skin, down to her bones.
She shivered. The physical discomfort she felt did not compare to the pain that was rioting through her chest. To the unending darkness that was threatening to destroy her.
She leaned forward, the snow freezing her exposed skin. And she didn’t care.
She knew she needed to get up. She knew she needed to run, as she had told him she would. She couldn’t just lie here and die in a snowbank; that was an old fear. But, for a moment it was tempting.
And when she felt that flicker of temptation, she stood. No, she would not fade away. She would not hide herself from pain. She would not allow for herself to be alone. Not to protect herself, not for any reason at all. She would have what she wanted. No, she couldn’t have Andres. But whether she stayed or left, that would be the case. She would not subject herself to that. And she was strong enough now to claim that for herself. To understand that she deserved it.
She had suffered far too much loss in her life. The loss of her parents hurt still, but if there was one thing she knew it was that you could survive grief. She could survive pain.
She could survive being alone.
She stood, walking to the garage, where she knew she would find the driver whom Andres had been using the past few weeks.
She saw him standing in there, by the car, obviously waiting for anyone who might need a ride.
He pushed away from the car, lifted his head. “Princess?”
“I need you to take me into town. I need to see Julia Shuler. Can you help me find her?”
* * *
It was not the best thing to be drunk on your wedding day. Hell, it probably wasn’t the best thing to be drunk on Christmas Day. Christmas morning, if he were being completely precise. But he had not been able to find Zara after their confrontation last night, and so he had gone into his brother’s library and made liberal use of the Scotch.
He was waiting for the pain, the headache to hit. Right now the buzz was all that lingered.
She would come today, he was confident in that. He had made a mistake last night, he knew that. He had gone one too far in using that woman to hurt Zara.
He had put off touching her for as long as possible, and when he had heard footsteps in the hallway he had grabbed her and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her. Deeply. Passionately. So that no one who bore witness could miss it.
He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he had not expected the repulsion that had crawled over his skin. He didn’t want this other woman. She was beautiful, and yet he didn’t want her. Did not want to taste her lips, did not want her lipstick lingering on his flesh.
And when Zara had seen him...
He had never known such regret. Not even when he had been confronted with the pictures of himself and Francesca.
But it had been too late, and he had done what he always did. He had lashed out and hurt her. He had doubled down on the reasoning behind his actions. His brain justifying himself all while his mouth issued the vilest insults to the person he should be prostrating himself before, begging for forgiveness.
He had felt so desperate to disappoint her now instead of later. Had felt so compelled to make her hate him early so that he had nothing to try and live up to. So that he wasn’t surprised when she left.
What he hadn’t counted on was the hurt in her eyes. His mother had never faced him after that final day. She had simply left. His father had met him with rage only. Kairos had had kind of a quiet acceptance about him, but had stood firm in the stance that they were brothers and nothing would break their bond.
Zara had made it very clear that their bond was broken. She had faced him down with anger, as his father had done. But there was more to it than that. It was a righteous anger, and not for herself...for him. Because she had expected that he was better. Truly.
He realized right then that his parents never had expected more from him.
He had willingly disappointed them, because that was living down to their expectations. Zara was the only one who had truly expected better.
She wants things from you that you can’t give. You’re better off without her. Better off without all this.
His heart burned, calling him a liar.
Kairos came down the steps of the church, dressed in a tux. “Where is your bride? The wedding starts soon.”
“I expect she’ll be here.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“So,” Kairos said, “something terrible.”
Andres let out a derisive laugh. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go. She’ll be here. She has no other choice.”
“You are a fool,” his brother said, the venom injected into his words a shock. “I have watched you squander yourself for years but I thought that you would learn. I thought you would not waste this.”
“Waste what?” Andres asked, the words coming out in a roll of fog in the cold, snowy air. “My forced marriage?”
“She loves you,” Kairos said, his voice low, vibrating with rage. “It is so clear to anyone who takes the time to look. Have you not?”
Andres’s stomach tightened, regret lancing him like a sword. “I know.” She would not love him now though. Not anymore. Of that he was certain.
“And still you betray her?” Kairos looked bleak. “You had the chance to have a woman look at you as she does...and you threw it away?”
“Attend to your own marriage and the lack of love in it and leave mine alone.”
Kairos stepped forward, gripped the lapels on Andres’s jacket and backed him against the church wall. “Do not speak of my marriage. You do not know what you’re treading on.”
“But you feel free to speak to me?”
“Yes. Because if I had a wife who looked at me the way she looks at you...”
“What? You’d do your very best to make sure she stopped?”
“Tabitha and I are not in love. We never have been.”
“Perhaps you could have been.”
“This,” Kairos said, “is not about me. I am not the one who is supposed to be married in five minutes, has hundreds of guests in attendance and yet has no bride.”
“She will be here.”
“You had better hope so.” Kairos turned and walked back into the church, closing the sanctuary doors behind him and leaving Andres outside in the snow.
But she didn’t show. The snow began to fall harder, the temperature dropping as the day wore on. He imagined that people had left the church by now, spilling out the other entrance, leaving him alone here at the back, in the yard that bordered the cemetery and the woods.
He took a deep breath, but rather than making him feel refreshed, the frigid air let a burning, searing ache into his chest that he could scarcely breathe around. It was unendurable, unending.
And still, he stood and waited, even though he knew she would never appear. Even though he knew she wasn’t going to come. He had done it. He had tested her feelings for him, and he had broken them.
Isn’t it what you wanted?
He’d thought so. Had thought he would feel blessed relief at being released from her. From her expectations, if not her presence.
But he felt nothing like relief. He felt ruined.
Wasn’t that the sick, sad thing about a man intent on self-destruction? He was bleeding out, and desperately wishing he could stop it. Even though he’d inflicted the wound. It was too late. All he could do was stand here, dealing with the consequences that he had earned. Consequences he had been aiming for. Consequences he didn’t want.
You’re in a hell of your own making.
Zara had told him that. Zara had been right.
But he was just so tired. So tired of wanting things and being denied. It was easier not to want them. Easier not to try. But Zara... Zara made him want. She made him think that it might be possible to have a life. To have love. A marriage.
There had been little windows of time where he’d been able to imagine forever with her. Where he had let himself dream of children, of her looking at him with love in her eyes every single day. But the more he wanted it, the more terrifying it became. The most beautiful dreams had a tendency to morph into the foulest of demons.
So he’d attempted to exorcise this demon before it had gotten him. But now he regretted it. And it was too late.
With that exorcism should have come freedom, but he felt that he’d only bound himself up tighter, pushed himself deeper into perdition.
The ache in his chest was overwhelming now. He couldn’t speak past it, couldn’t breathe past it. Before, he had tamped it down, medicated it with alcohol, with women. Surrounded himself with people so he could pretend that he wasn’t desperately, terrifyingly alone.
So he could pretend he was somehow different than the boy locked away in his room.
For the first time he allowed himself to feel it. Really feel it. It was the monster under his bed, the one he had pretended wasn’t there. He had buried it, drunk it away, ignored it, mocked it. But now it was going to consume him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do to stop it.
He realized for the first time he’d left part of himself locked away. So that he couldn’t be hurt. Couldn’t be rejected.
He loosened his tie, taking a step away from the church, toward the woods. He couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was the tie. Maybe it was the collar on his shirt. He undid a button. Then the next. He still couldn’t breathe. The constricting feeling was inside his throat, tightening, like a noose around his neck he couldn’t reach or control.
He took another step away from the church, then another. And he refused to look back. He headed toward the trees, toward isolation. He felt driven to embrace it, driven to experience this moment of honesty. The first moment of honesty in his entire life.
He kept walking, the air around him darkening as the trees thickened.
He had always run into the crowd in moments like this. When the howling emptiness inside him became too much, he let it get swallowed up by people, things. But here he could do nothing but let it expand. Admit that Zara was right.
He’d been happy when his mother was gone because it meant no more trying. No more pain. No more failure in any way that mattered.
But Kairos had still demanded of him, and so he’d tried to rid himself of his brother too, though it hadn’t worked. And all the while he’d told himself it was because he was every bit as evil as his mother had said.
Debauched. A mistake.
He was still just a boy locked in his room. Away from everything. No matter how many women he touched, no matter how many parties he went to...no one ever really reached him.
Until Zara.
And he’d betrayed her. Now he was alone again and there was no denying it. No covering it up.
Every year of isolation was catching up to him now, rolling over him in great, crashing waves. Years of it, threatening to suffocate him if he didn’t relieve some of the pressure.
You could just go out into the woods and scream to make yourself feel better.
Another bit of wisdom from Zara. Feral wisdom. She was filled with it. She was nothing more than a tiny woman who had been raised just this side of civilized. And yet she had taught him everything.
Now he was in the exact place she had found herself years ago. Hurting. Lonely. Dying inside with no way to heal himself.
He had nothing to lose. No image to maintain. He had just been jilted in front of his entire country. He had been left by the only woman who had ever loved him. The only woman he had ever loved in return. And he was responsible. It was his fault. His fear had destroyed everything.
Because he had let it grow inside him, unidentified, ignored. He had pretended it wasn’t there and like a malignant disease it had grown, thrived, as he had allowed it to. He had told himself his relief at his mother being gone made him terrible. Wrong.
He had simply been afraid. Admitting that was the hardest thing, admitting he was weak.
He’d imagined himself invulnerable. As long as he believed he feared nothing, as long as he believed he didn’t care, it must be true. But it was a lie. It had always been a lie. It was his caring for his mother, her disdain for him that had made it a burden. If he’d never cared, it would not have felt so heavy.
He did care. And he had failed. Now it all rested on him.
He wanted to rail against it. He wanted to scream as Zara said she did when she came to the woods alone.
“Did you feel better?”
“Not really. But I could breathe.”
The thought of doing that would have been impossible only a few hours ago. Because he was buried so deep inside himself, and screaming into the emptiness was letting it free. Letting that uncontrolled boy who had cared, but had failed, out to try again. He had buried that boy. That boy who had been wrong, perpetually, to those who should have loved him simply for breathing.
He had grown into a man who had felt nothing for far too long. Who had been paralyzed in the end when he was offered the world.
A man who couldn’t breathe.
He did his best to take a gasp of air, something, anything to fill his lungs. And then he shouted into the emptiness. Not words, just pain. Forcing it out of his body the best he could, clearing room so that he could breathe again. He wanted to be rid of the fear. Of everything he had allowed to stand in his way.
He had broken his own life. He could no longer blame anyone else. The one who held everyone at a distance. Who tried to prove to himself that the love he was offered was false. He had tested his mother. She had failed. She had failed and he had been glad because her love was so heavy.
He shouted again, the sound rough and raw in the silence. But when he was finished, he found that he could breathe again. Just for a moment it felt as if Zara was with him.
He wanted her to be. He realized that with blinding clarity as the sound of his voice faded into a distant echo. He wanted her to be with him so that neither of them would be alone again. But she could have anyone. Any future she wanted. She didn’t have to make a life with him.
But he would ask. He would beg if he had to.
He had closed himself off to caring, to needing anyone else for fear that he might fail. He might very well fail at this. He didn’t care. He wanted her, he wanted her forever, and that was worth the risk.
He would lay himself bare, open, without his heart and show it to her if need be.
But he would not let her walk away without a fight.
He was broken already. There was nothing to protect. And without her, he could never be put back together.
He did not know if he could be saved. But he knew one thing for certain: Her love was not heavy. It was light.
The only thing powerful enough to raise him back up from hell.
* * *
Everything inside Zara hurt. Everything on the outside of Zara hurt. She was pain wrapped in misery, rolled in regret and stuffed beneath the blanket she never wanted to emerge from. Of course, she couldn’t take up permanent residence underneath a blanket in the guest room at Julia’s. Convenient though it might be.
Today was her wedding day. She hadn’t shown up. It was also her first real Christmas in years. She hadn’t shown up for that either.
At least Christmas would keep coming. It always did. Every year, whether she was in a position to celebrate it or not.
Her wedding to Andres could only have happened today. The offer would never present itself again.
He betrayed you.
Yes, he had betrayed her.
She fought against the voice inside her that was shouting about the fact that he had betrayed her out of fear. That he had tried to push her away because things had gotten too intense between them. That he was doing to her the same thing he had done to Kairos. Testing her. Testing their love.
Well, even if it was true, she couldn’t allow him to get away with it. He couldn’t keep doing that to her. He was going to have to accept the fact that she loved him, and love her back, or they could have nothing.
She was tired of being alone, and she had realized that she could be alone even while sleeping in the same bed with him. If he kept her cut off emotionally, then they would never really be together. He had perfected the art of being alone in a crowded room, and she would not allow him to do the same thing with her.
She wanted to be different. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to feel close to him, not just skin to skin, but soul to soul. After a lifetime of being set apart, she didn’t think it was too much to want. Too much to ask.
She would never be whole, not without him. But she would find something. She was determined. She’d found...a fullness in her life at the palace. During her time with him.
She would not allow him to drain it all away just because he was scared.
It was well past noon. She should be getting out of bed. Julia had gone away to visit family for the day, and had told Zara that she could have the run of the house. Her response was to get back into bed as soon as Julia had left.
On the upside, Zara felt that she might finally have a friend. There were positions open within the school system for helping children learn to read that didn’t require special degrees. She could get on-the-job training. She was excited about that.
She’d been prepared to take her place as princess. To take her place at Andres’s side. But without him, she was back to being where she was before. Just Zara.
No, not just Zara. She was Zara Stoica, and she was no longer in hiding. She would do what she could, all that she could, with what resources she could acquire. She would start at the school, but maybe someday there would be more.
Something she could do to benefit children like her. Children without mothers. Without a real home.
Thinking about children made her stomach cramp. It was still entirely possible that she could be having Andres’s child. But of course, neither of them had talked about that when she stormed out last night. She hadn’t even let herself think about it.
But, even if she was having his baby, they didn’t need to be together. They would work something out.
She ignored the creeping feeling of dread that coated her skin in ice. The truth was, he was royalty. He was a very powerful man. If she was pregnant, he would probably take the baby from her.
Cross that bridge if you come to it.
It would be another week or so before she knew for sure. She would worry about it then. For now, she would just marinate in her pain.
She heard a very hard knock coming from the front of the house, and instinctively, she crawled in more tightly on herself, gripping the edges of the blanket and drawing her knees up to her chest.
The knock sounded again. She was not going to answer someone else’s door.
She heard a voice, combined with the knock, though she could not make out what the words were. The tone was loud, rough, very male. She found herself instinctively responding to it, uncurling and planting both sock clad feet on the floor.
She stood, and before she knew precisely what she was doing, she was walking out of the bedroom and toward the front door.
She knew who it was before she swung the door open and was met with a heartbreakingly familiar face.
Something inside her had known it was him. She was still connected to him, even though he had broken her. Even though she was angry. Even though she had left him at the altar. She knew that she always would be. No matter how far away she went, no matter how much independence she gained, she would never forget him. She would never truly leave him behind.
Part of her was horrified by that revelation. Part of her cherished it. Held it close. The same part of her that never wanted to let him go.
A foolish, foolish part of herself.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Before she could draw another breath, his arm was wrapped around her waist, and he had drawn her in close, his mouth crashing down on hers. He was kissing her, deep, hard with so much passion. He was putting all of himself into this, and she recognized the difference. Recognized last night for what it really was.
She pulled away from him. “You coward,” she hissed. “How could you do that? To me? To us?”
“Because I am a coward,” he ground out. “I am a fool. I am everything you accused me of being. And I am sorry. Zara.” He cupped her cheek, brushing her hair back from her face. “I am so sorry.”
“Being sorry doesn’t take that kiss away. You touched her. You...you tried to hurt me. You did hurt me.”
“I know,” he said, his voice ragged. “I was so intent on destroying myself that I ignored the fact that I would be destroying you too. I had only just purposed to myself that I would tell you we would be partners. That there would be no feelings because I...I was afraid of wanting more. Then you said you loved me. I didn’t believe you loved me enough, Zara. Not because I thought you were a liar, but because I have never believed anyone could love me. In some ways, I did not think it would truly devastate you. I thought... I thought it might set you free. But I will not pretend it was entirely for you, I will not even pretend that I thought of you even a little bit as I did it. I thought of me. Of all the pain I wanted to spare myself. Of the long years spent watching the light slowly dimming in your eyes as I forced you to fall out of love with me by virtue of the fact that I am unlovable.”
“You are not.”
“I am an adult. I understand that the rambunctiousness of a child should not have the power to drive a mother away, however purposeful it was in the end. I do. But what it doesn’t change is the fact that...I wasn’t sorry when she left. And that feeling... It was much easier to feel that it was my fault since I was relieved that acting out had pushed her away.”
“It wasn’t you. And she was... She made it so hard for you. You were a small boy. Of course it was hard to be anything but relieved.”
“It made me want to test people,” he said. “Kairos. You. To see if I could get rid of you as easily. My brother is stubborn. He would not allow it. You... I am so sorry. No one should have stayed after what I did. I do not deserve your loyalty.”
She blinked rapidly. “Andres, I know what it is to lose people. I lost my family. It wasn’t their choice, but I lost them all the same. I know what it’s like to be afraid of suffering the same loss. It is why I... I was part of why no one ever got close to me in the clan. Because I could not bear to love another person again, out of fear. But you made me love you. Yesterday, I felt very much like I was living the same nightmare over again. But I realized that I was more than the things I had lost. Each person I have loved has added more to me. More to who I am. Including you. The loss of them, the loss of you, did not steal more than you gave. I am stronger for having loved you, and no matter what happens in the future, that can’t be taken away. No matter what happens, it will always have been worth it.”
“Even if you have to live the rest of your life with me?”
Her heart sped up, then stuttered to a halt, sinking down into her stomach. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wanting me isn’t enough. You marrying me isn’t enough. I need...”
“I love you,” he said, the words coming out rushed, intense. “I love you, Zara. I have not said that to anyone in more years than I can count. I have not once admitted to myself that I desperately wanted someone to love me since my mother.”
“Your mother...”
“I wanted her to love me, but it was always out of my reach. Better to have her gone. I told myself that. And I hated myself for it, but it was easier than admitting that...that I wanted very much to love someone and for them to love me back. That it destroyed me that I could not be what she wanted me to be. So it was easier to stop trying than to keep on and to fail. But I’m admitting it now. Because I’m more afraid of life without you than I am of making myself vulnerable. And that is a first.”
“You love me,” she repeated.
“Yes.” He held her close, his eyes intent on hers. “I do. Almost from the first moment I met you. But I couldn’t admit it. Do you think I routinely wash women’s hair?”
“I imagine you probably don’t.”
“Never.” He kissed her lips lightly. “And you imagine I am often captivated by small, burrowing creatures?”
“I am not a creature.”
“If you are, you are a creature I love very much. You are unlike any woman, anyone, I have ever known. You wanted to know me. Not the man I pretended to be. You wouldn’t allow me to be false with you. You have stripped my defenses, and that is why you are so dangerous to me. That is why I ran from you. Why I had to push you away. But as I stood there today, outside the church, alone, realizing you wouldn’t be there, I wanted to take it all back. I’ve never wanted to take back one of my actions more in all of my life. Not what I did when my mother left, not what I did to my brother. Your loss. Yours. That was the one I could not survive.”
“Andres.” She said his name because she could think of nothing else to say. She leaned in and kissed him. In that kiss she poured every word she couldn’t speak, every feeling she couldn’t fully identify. Everything she wanted him to understand.
When they parted, they were both breathing heavily.
“Marry me,” he said. “Not because you have to. Not because I have to. But because you want to. Because I would be lost without you.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
“You are the best Christmas present I could ever have received. But I don’t want to own you. I simply want to love you. So, as you were given to me, I give myself to you.”
“I accept,” she said. “And I couldn’t ask for anything better. I love you, Andres. Now and forever. If I had every choice in the entire world open up to me, I would still choose you. Every time.”
“And I you.”
“I do hope, though, that this isn’t the only Christmas present I get.”
“Really? What else do you want?”
“I was thinking maybe a fruit basket.”
He let his head fall back, a smile crossing his face, his laughter genuine and perfect and everything she had ever wanted. “That can be arranged. I think, also, that while it might be too late for us to get married with the entire country present, we can still have a Christmas wedding.”
