Promise

by Kristie Cook

  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."

  She stood up and picked up the now empty box. "Well, you're running out of time, honey."

  "I know," I whispered.

  I had another night of crying and restless sleep, my blouse and his shirt bunched around my face so I could smell him. By morning, though, I'd decided I'd cried enough. I told myself some fresh air and distraction was what I needed to clear my head and think things through. I went for a short walk on the beach. It wasn't a great idea; I felt so alone. So I went back home and escaped to my book, losing myself in an imaginary love story where everyone lives happily ever after.

  "Do you know when he's moving?" I asked Mom that night.

  "I don't think he's set a date yet. I think he's still waiting…."

  I just nodded and went back to my book. I spent the next day immersed in the fictional world I'd created.

  "Has he set a date yet?" I asked Mom that night. She shook her head.

  Chapter 17

  I spent the next two days the same way. I worked on the book all day; I asked Mom the same question at night. She said no both times. I breathed a sigh of relief. By the end of the third day, I felt the novel was as good as I could make it without input from others. It was time to hand it over—let someone else delve into my fantasies and see what I think about, how weird and twisted and lovely my imagination could be. I practically danced around the printer as each page slowly slid out, feeling both nervous and excited for Mom to finally read it.

  Needing something to do to pass the time before she came home, I took a long, hot shower and then painted my toenails purple. Finishing the book and then pampering myself cheered me up. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel good enough to call him. Maybe.

  When I came out of the bathroom, I heard voices. I peeked into the kitchen to see who was with Mom. She leaned over the counter, her head in her hands, the phone in front of her. She had it set on speaker and when I heard Tristan's name, I stepped back to listen.

  "I've tried to talk sense into him, but he's not listening," Mom said. "He insists there's nothing to keep him here, there's no reason to stick around."

  "Stefan has been over there, too, with the same results," said a female voice through the phone's speaker. She had a foreign accent I couldn't place. "We cannot let him go, Sophia."

  "I know."

  "There is only one person who will get through to him. You know that."

  "She's still unwilling. I think she wants to, but she's struggling to trust that he really loves her."

  "Oh, of course he does! From what you and Stefan have told me, there is no doubt!"

  "I know, but she doesn't. Or if she does, she won't admit it."

  "You need to persuade her, Sophia. She needs to understand. Otherwise, we will lose him forever."

  Mom sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm sure of that. I'm pretty sure he's going back to them."

  "So am I."

  My chest constricted, strangling my heart. Oh, no! Oh, God, no!

  "Do you think they'll kill him?" Mom nearly whispered. My stomach lurched, filling my mouth with the taste of vomit.

  "I am not sure. They have a terrible desire to control him again, but if they think they cannot, they will undoubtedly kill him. Either way, we lose him."

  I rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in front of Mom. Her eyes held mine. She had to see
the terror on my face, but put her finger to her lips. I wanted to scream at her and the woman on the phone, but could barely pull air through my constricting throat. I felt like I was suffocating.

  "You have to convince her, Sophia! She is the only one—"

  "I think we have an answer. I'll call you back." Mom quickly pressed the end button. "Alexis…"

  The world fuzzed around the edges, then started to go black. I thought I was about to pass out, but I'd never done that before, so I wasn't sure. Mom caught me and set me in a chair, pushing my head between my knees.

  "Mom…" I gasped. "Tristan…?"

  "Alexis, did you hear?"

  My head shot up and pinpricks of light flashed before my eyes. I looked past them at her face. Her expression was a mix of several different emotions, none of them good. Fear, worry, grief, anxiety…I'd never seen Mom so distressed.

  "Yes! What do I do?" I cried.

  "I think you know," she whispered.

  "How much time do I have?"

  "I don't know. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

  "NO!"

  I bolted for my room. Yes, I know what to do. I dressed quickly in what I knew he liked, just in case it made a difference—the green blouse Mom gave me for Christmas and a denim mini skirt. I threw my hair in a quick twist to get it out of my face and emptied my school bag on my bed, scattering papers and pens everywhere. I threw the framed poem and his note into the bag. I tucked my ring into my hip pocket. I stood in the door and glanced around, trying to think if there was anything else that might help. My eyes landed on the manuscript I'd just printed. I'd promised Mom first read. She'll understand. I grabbed it, slipped it into a folder and shoved it in the bag. I flew out of my room.

  Mom waited at the door for me. "I drive faster," she said.

  "I can't be there without a car, Mom, just in case…"

  "I'll leave it."

  She waved off the look I gave her.

  "I'll get home fine. Don't worry," she said.

  She raced along the surface streets. It didn't feel fast enough. I tried to think of what I'd say or do but nothing came to mind. We turned into his driveway in two minutes. I'd have to wing it.

  "You can do this, honey," Mom said. She pecked me on the forehead and then she was gone.

  "Tristan!" I cried from the driveway. I rushed up the stairs to the dining room door and banged on it. "Tristan!"

  I pressed my face against the glass to look inside. It looked empty except for some boxes and furniture piled at the far end of the living room. He hasn't left. Yet. But he never came to the door and I wondered if he was even home. I could see a light from the hallway, either the office or the gym. I pressed my ear to the glass and heard blaring music. He'll never hear me over that! Damn, damn, damn!

  I ran back down the stairs to the keypad by the garage door. I had no idea what the code was and knew it was hopeless. Unable to keep still, pacing the driveway, I tried to think how he would think. It wouldn't be his birth date. He ignored that date. But maybe… Without anything to lose, I tried my birth date. Holy crap! It worked! The door right next to me started lifting. As soon as I was able, I ducked underneath it and hit the button to close it. I ran up the stairs to the house.

  "TRI—"

  His name lodged in my throat. A steel vise grabbed me by the neck and pinned me to the wall two feet off the floor. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even struggle. The bag fell from my hand. I heard the glass frame break. My heart raced even harder.

  "Alexis?" The lovely voice twisted in horror.

  Just as my vision started to blur around the edges again, I saw Tristan step back, his hand dropping from my neck. Then I was free and fell to the floor. My lungs seized to pull in air.

  "Tri…stan…" I gasped, kneeling on all fours.

  "What are you doing here?" he growled. "I almost killed you."

  "I'm…sorry…I…banged…on the…door." I inhaled as deeply as I could, the air tearing at my throat like razor-blades. "You couldn't hear me."

  "What are you doing here?" he growled again. Fire blazed in his eyes.

  I scrambled to my feet.

  "I…I came to stop you." My voice sounded small and weak with fear.

  "Stop me from what?" His tone was unfamiliar. I didn't like it at all. He folded his arms across his chest.

  "From wherever you're going." My voice grew stronger. He won't hurt me…not on purpose anyway.

  "It's too late," he growled angrily.

  "But you're still here!"

  "You've made your feelings clear, Alexis. I have nothing to stay for."

  "But I'm here! I'm here for you!"

  He glared at me.

  "Where are you going?" I could hear the edge in my voice, the anger rising. I'd need that anger if I had to protect myself.

  "Exactly where you told me to. Where I came from!"

  "NO! You said you'd never go back!" I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes, daring him to defy his own words.

  "I've been wrong all along. I failed with you. I failed at this life. It's where I belong."

  "But you didn't fail with me. I'm here, Tristan. I'm here for you!"

  He glowered at me. "They sent you, didn't they?"

  "No! I'm here for us! I love you! And I know you love me, too! And that means you did not fail at this life! You belong with me. Stay for me." I lost the edge as tears burned my eyes.

  "How can you say that? You don't even trust me, Alexis. You can't love me!"

  "But I do, Tristan. I love you! I trust you! You are everything to me." I stared at him as he glared back with those fiery eyes. Oh, God, please help me. I can't lose him! I knelt by my bag and pulled the broken frame out. I held it out to him. "Here! This comes from my heart. It still holds true. It always will."

  He ignored it.

  I put it on the floor and pulled the note out and waved it. "Your letter! I cried over it for days. You said you wanted me back. I'm here!"

  No reaction. I pled my love to a boulder.

  "Please, Tristan," I begged. "Please listen to me."

  I wiped the tears out of my eyes with the heel of my palm. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't budge. I pulled the manuscript out of the bag and held the folder open.

  "My novel. I want you to be the first to read it, Tristan."

  I thought I saw a slight change in his eyes. The fire dimmed just a bit. I stood up and held the manuscript at him, but he didn't take it.

  "Please. I've shared it with no one else. I want you to be the first."

  He didn't budge. I tossed it on a side table standing next to the three remaining kitchen chairs, waiting to be hauled onto a moving truck. His eyes followed the folder, then flew back to me. I took a deep breath, trying to think of what to do next. I fished the ring out of my pocket and held it up.

  "I will keep this forever, but only when you put it back on my finger."

  He still didn't move, but his eyes softened.

  "I want to marry you, Tristan. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever with you. You and me together. You can't leave me!"

  I put the ring on the manuscript and pulled a chair over in front of him. I stepped up on it so I could look directly into his eyes. The flames still flickered, still bright, but I'd seen worse. I touched his cheek and flinched from the powerful electric pulse, but I didn't let it stop me. I put my hands on each side of his face. He stood completely still. I looked deeply into his eyes, noticing the flames dimming more.

  "I love you, Tristan Knight. You will not leave me!"

  Still no reaction except that slight change in the eyes. Give him everything. I knew it was risky, with that fire still burning, but I didn't know what else to do. I'd already offered him everything I had. The book had softened him and I knew there was one last thing he wanted. One more way to show him I could give him all of me. I unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall to the floor. I scooted my skirt down my legs and stepped out of it. I unhooked my bra and let it fall, then slid my panties off. I stood naked o
n the chair right in front of him and held my arms out wide.

  "You have all of me now. I am all yours!"

  His eyes traveled up and down my body.

  "You're being really stupid," he growled. His hand twitched. Finally, a reaction. "I could kill you right now."

  I lifted my chin and firmly set my voice. "If you're going to leave, if you're going back to them, then I want you to kill me."

  The fire dimmed, though, instead of brightening. I knew it was okay. I took his face in my hands again, ignoring the shock this time.

  "But you're not going to. You love me and you won't hurt me," I whispered. I pressed my lips against his. He remained unresponsive but I continued to kiss him, looking into his eyes the whole time. "Please, Tristan. I know you love me. Please show me you're still here with me."

  I slipped my hands back into his hair, tugging at it, and moved my lips over his cheekbone, to his ear and down his neck, then back up around his jaw.

  "Please, Tristan."

  When my lips returned to his, he opened his mouth slightly and I tasted him. I traced my tongue over his lips and slipped it between. He started to respond, moving his lips slowly with mine, tasting me. I moved my mouth over his face and neck again, kissing and sucking. I undid the buttons I could reach and gave up and tore his shirt apart, pressing my naked breasts against his bare chest. I felt his hands on my back, sliding down over my butt and back up again. I shuddered. Our mouths crushed against each other and we hungrily kissed and bit and tugged.

  He pressed his hand against the small of my back and pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he turned and sat in the chair. I traced my hands over his chest, down his torso and back up and over his shoulders and then pressed myself against him, electricity jolting through my body. My lower abdomen and groin tightened with excitement and anticipation. He unclipped my twist and let my hair fall, then pulled back on it, forcing my neck and chest up. His hand slid over and around my breast, squeezing it gently and then holding it as he kissed and licked and sucked, pulling my nipple tight, making it erect. He did the same with its twin. I ground my pelvis against him and I felt him hard underneath me.