by Chloé Duval
“You—forgive me?”
I didn’t know if I should be surprised he forgave me—God knew I probably wouldn’t have been that…understanding…if our roles had been reversed—or irritated by his paternalistic tone.
“Yes, I forgive you,” he went on determinedly. “I understand. I’ve been neglecting you, what with the case. I’ve been taking you for granted. I can understand that you were lonely and that you gave in to—to his charm. I wasn’t there for you, I know that. And I’m sorry. So let’s forget about it, and start over again. I promise I’ll take better care of you. I won’t neglect you again.”
“Spencer—” I began.
His admission of guilt moved me, but I had to explain that it was more than that, more than just neglect or carelessness. I wanted him to see what I had—that over the years we had taken different paths without realizing it. That our relationship as a couple had been over for a long time and that the case was just the final stop.
He didn’t give me the chance to.
“Alex, I love you,” he soldiered on, his voice no longer so confident, his eyes still glued to mine. “I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. So please, let’s forget all this, go to Venice and find each other again. I miss you, Alex. I realize it now. I miss you so much. Let me win you over again. Please. It’s not too late. I can change. I can be who you want me to be. Please, Alex.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and for a second my resolve wavered. He looked so vulnerable all of a sudden. I had seen him stare down hardened criminals with steel in his eyes, but just then, his usual poker face could not hide the concern in his gaze.
My guilt tripled, and I almost gave in to his pleas. The mere idea of hurting him broke my heart.
Through a veil of tears, I saw his face, the face I knew so well, the scar at the corner of his eyebrow from a bicycle fall when he was a boy, his straight, Roman nose, his perfect smile.
He was handsome. I truly and sincerely loved him. But it was not enough.
I had changed too much to be able to go back. To be satisfied with the life he offered me.
“I love you too, Spencer,” I whispered, blinking to clear the tears from my eyes. “I always will.”
“But?” he prompted hesitantly.
My heart beat like a hummingbird. This was the point of no return. Once I had said it, I could no longer turn back. I was going to give up on my life to stray into uncharted territory. Without even knowing if Éric would understand and forgive me.
But this wasn’t just about Éric. It was about me, about striking out on my own and for my own sake. It was about me taking my life back in hand and living for myself. I didn’t deserve any less.
I took a deep breath and stepped off the cliff.
“But I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore.”
There. I’d said it.
At first Spencer didn’t reply, his gaze searching mine as though to find confirmation of what he had just heard.
I knew the moment he realized I was serious. He shut down, face as cold as stone. There was a new glint to his eyes, flinty and hard.
“You really think that,” he said at last.
I assented.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“This it, then. This is how it ends.”
I nodded again.
Spencer let out a bark of bitter laughter.
“Talk about a surprise,” he muttered, looking away.
His jaw clenched—he was angry.
Angry was better than hurt, right?
I couldn’t help but feel a little stung as I realized he wasn’t going to fight for me, that I wouldn’t get anything more than the short plea in his favor he’d given me. He talked a good game, but he was giving up pretty fast for someone who had professed he couldn’t live without me only minutes ago.
Make up your mind about what you want, girl, the little voice inside my head grunted.
It had a point. It was better this way. He would soon realize that he hadn’t loved me either in a long time.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I can’t lie to you either. I owe you the truth.”
“How long have you felt this way?”
“A long time, I think. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, because—because I care for you. But I believe it would be a mistake for us to get married. You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who will love you three hundred percent and—”
“Don’t give me that crap about ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and ‘you deserve better’! That never helped anyone.”
I looked down wordlessly. I felt my phone vibrate in my clutch purse.
Spencer must have heard it too, because there was bitterness in his voice when he spoke again.
“Is that him?”
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to speak to me right now.”
“So he didn’t know about me?”
I shook my head.
“Great! You didn’t even tell him about me! So you’re wrecking five years of our life and a wedding for someone you barely even met and who you lied to. You disappoint me, Alex.”
His words hurt. A lot.
“That’s not—” I protested, hating the idea he could be disappointed in me.
“Please don’t insult me with excuses you don’t mean.”
I fell silent. He wasn’t going to listen either way. It was over for me anyway. Spencer had always had what I called Darcy syndrome—once lost, his trust could never be regained.
And I had betrayed and disappointed him.
It was his right to leave me the way I had left him. Maybe it was better this way.
A clean break.
Silence reclaimed its rights. I could still hear the faint music from the ball, apparently in full swing. Marine must have managed to salvage the evening.
The river flowed with a soft gurgle, peacefully. Completely at odds with my state of mind.
After a few minutes, Spencer stood up.
“Look, I’d rather be alone right now.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I don’t know. Probably in the car.”
I dug around in my purse.
“Here are the keys to my room.” I held them out to him. “You’re not going to sleep in the car. Go to the inn. I’ll find somewhere else.”
“At his place?”
“No. Somewhere else.”
I didn’t know where. Maybe in my own car.
“I don’t want your keys anyway,” Spencer snarled. “I don’t need your charity.”
His words were meant to wound. I’d hurt him, hurt him badly, and he resented me.
It broke my heart, but I also knew it was for the best. Because I really did believe it—he deserved someone who would truly love him for who he was.
I hoped one day he would realize it and forgive me for the pain I had inflicted upon him.
Perhaps that day we could be friends again.
“Spencer—”
“Goodbye, Alex.”
He left without another glance.
* * * *
I stayed rooted where I was, watching him walk away, walk out of my life, for many long minutes, long after he had disappeared from sight. Silent tears ran down my cheeks, a farewell to an entire part of my life.
A page had been turned, revealing a vast blankness that almost made me dizzy.
I was alone now.
I would miss Spencer, I knew. I had begun to miss him from the moment he had understood I was serious and had pulled away.
But at the same time—I felt free. Relieved. Not happy yet, no. But that would come.
One day I would be. I promised myself as much.
I sat back down
and waited for my tears to dry, gazing up at the starry sky. I wondered how Gabrielle would have behaved in my place.
She would have been honest with Spencer. She would have told him the truth, the way I had. And then she would have left in search of Thomas. She would not have stayed where she was, lamenting her fate. She would have gotten to her feet and would have found him and made him listen by any means necessary.
Yes, underneath her sweet, gentle demeanor, Gabrielle was a woman with a backbone of steel, who knew what she wanted and did everything in her power to attain it. And I was her descendant.
A plan began to take form in my mind. I dried my tears. Strangely, crying had always helped me collect myself. Now I could think without being overcome with emotion.
I fished my phone out of my purse. No calls from Marine or Éric. The text had been from Bea, asking about my talk with Éric earlier. I made a note to reply later and typed out a message to Marine.
I’m going to look for him.
I didn’t care if he didn’t want to speak to me. I just wanted him to listen.
I pressed Send and walked to my car purposefully.
I had a stubborn man to convince.
* * * *
“Éric?” I called out, hammering on the door to the old stables. “Éric, stop sulking. We need to talk!”
Unsurprisingly, the only reply was Max’s barking.
I insisted, calling out again, then circled the building and noted his bike wasn’t there. He hadn’t come back.
He hadn’t gone to the peace and quiet of the graveyard, or so I guessed. I hadn’t seen his bike by the gate as I drove by.
But Max was here. Éric would return sooner or later, if only to take care of him. I just had to wait.
I settled down gingerly at the foot of the door, careful not to damage the dress. I was determined not to move before he let me speak my piece.
I waited.
And waited some more.
The night grew darker and darker and colder and colder. I regretted not taking a shawl. I curled in on myself and finally slid into an uneasy sleep.
* * * *
The sunlight tickled me awake. The sunlight—and Éric’s cutting voice.
“What are you doing here?” he barked.
I jolted, instantly awake.
“Éric! There you are!” I exclaimed, staggering upright.
I didn’t dare picture what a sight I must be, with my dress crumpled, my makeup probably smudged, my hair wild and my eyes still full of sleep. I tried to repair the damage by tugging on my dress and dragging a hand through my hair.
“What are you doing here?” Éric repeated without a care for my appearance.
He wrenched the door open the second I stepped away.
“I need to speak to you,” I insisted, following him inside.
As soon as he saw us, Max bounded toward us, barking loudly. At least someone was happy to see me.
“Enough, Max!” Éric roared.
Surprised by his master’s tone, the poor dog fell quiet at once, dropping to the floor with a sad whine.
“Max didn’t do anything,” I rebuked him.
“Why don’t you mind your own business.”
“Yes. I need to talk to you. Is that my business?”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Then don’t say anything. Just listen to me.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
God, he was so stubborn!
He’d reverted right back to the rude jerk he’d been on our first meeting. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I knew he was being aggressive because he was angry. I could deal with his anger.
Yes, I was clinging to whatever excuse I could find.
“Well you’re going to listen anyway.”
He ignored me and climbed the stairs to the mezzanine, pulling out clothes and tossing them into an army duffel.
I followed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, dread twisting my insides.
“Isn’t it obvious? Packing.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.”
“Where are you going?”
I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. My heart began to pound in my chest as I waited for his answer.
“Africa.”
I felt like the ground was opening beneath my feet and I was tumbling down, down, down, with nothing to hold on to. This must have been what Gabrielle had felt when Thomas had told her he was leaving for England, I thought. Lost, so full of dread she could no longer breathe. I had never felt so close to her as I did in that moment.
But she had known she would see him again. I had no such guarantee.
“How long?” I choked out.
There was a lump in my throat. All the air in the room seemed to have fled.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t look at me. “At least a month.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Oh God.
It felt as though he had just torn out my heart and lungs and shredded them with his bare hands in front of my eyes.
But there was no way in hell I was letting him go without a fight.
“So you’re just going to leave?” I attacked. “What about all your pretty words? What were those? Just smoke? Who’s running now?”
At least I sparked a reaction. He stopped, a half-unfolded T-shirt in hand, and whirled around to face me. He glared daggers at me. “Don’t twist this around. You’re the one who lied right from the start.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Oh, are we being literal now? What about him? That was a lie, right? Why’d you never tell me about him? God, I’m so stupid. I believed it. I even—”
He shook his head and turned his back on me, stuffing the T-shirt into his bag.
“His name is Spencer and yes, we were engaged. But we broke up. I broke up with him. Because you were right. The person I was with him—it wasn’t me. And if you would just stop for a second and let me explain, you might understand instead of just assuming things!”
But he kept on shoving clothes haphazardly into his duffel bag.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snarled, still not looking at me. “It doesn’t change anything. It’s too late.”
“Don’t you understand? I love you, Éric!” I blurted out, laying myself bare before him. “I’m in love with you!”
He froze, seemed to hesitate, and for half a second I almost dared to hope. To hope he might listen, might climb down from his damn fortress of solitude, might lay aside his bag and hold me in his arms. To hope he would say he was glad to hear it and that it changed everything.
But he did no such thing. He wrenched his bag closed and shouldered it, turning around to face me.
“Please don’t leave,” I begged, my eyes on his.
I wanted to lay a hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat under my palm. But I didn’t dare touch him for fear he’d push me away.
“Give me a chance. Give us a chance, Éric—”
“It’s too late, princess. I—I can’t trust you anymore.”
It felt as though a blade had pierced me through. I could feel it ram right into my heart.
“It never would’ve worked anyway,” he went on. “I’m not cut out for a life chained to someone. I need to be free. I need to travel. You should go home. Go back to your life and forget about me. It’s better for the both of us.”
With one final glance, he stepped around me and descended the stairs.
“Max, come here,” he called.
There was a bark of reply, and I caught a few murmured words. A farewell to the dog. Then the clink of a leash and the sound of a door swinging shut.
Th
e click startled me out of my daze.
No! I raged to myself. No, no, no!
I ran down the steps and after him. I found him tying Max to his kennel.
“All right, you’re mad at me,” I panted. “I should have told you about Spencer earlier. I hurt your feelings, and believe me, I’m sorry. But you can’t just leave! It’s madness! What about the castle? What about Max?”
“I called Marine. She’ll take him in. He’s used to it.”
“And—the castle?” I hesitated.
He clipped the leash, patted Max’s head and straightened. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“I’ve decided to sell it.”
And he walked toward his motorbike.
“You can’t do that!”
“And who’s going to stop me? You?”
“If I have to! Éric, that’s your father’s legacy! What he fought for all his life. You can’t give up just because you’re angry at me.”
“It’s got nothing to do with that. I just don’t have the means to keep it, that’s all.”
“Of course it does! I gave you a way to keep it. Why wouldn’t you want it anymore, unless it’s about you being angry with me?”
“Because. I’m leaving. I can’t keep it. That’s it.”
“Okay. You’re leaving. I got that loud and clear, believe me. But if you do, you have to sign over power of attorney to Marine or hire a notary to represent you. Don’t sell on a whim. It’s too important to the people around here. If you don’t want me to talk about the vineyard to my boss, fine, I’ll respect your decision,” I added bitterly. “But at least think about it. This isn’t just about you. It’s the entire town that’s at stake. It’s about Marine and Bruno and all the people who moved heaven and earth to raise the money to help you save it. For your father. For you. So put a lid on your pride and make the right decision.”
We’d reached his bike. He put down his duffel and hesitated for a second, helmet in hand.
“Please let me try to save the castle,” I begged. “I can save it. Please.”
For a long moment, he was silent, eyes on the forest. His jaw clenched, and I could see the heartbreak on his face. Finally he sighed.
“I’ll think about it.”
And he picked up the bag and pulled on his helmet, straddled his bike and roared away.
Without a glance for me.