“Are you Micah or Seline’s friend?” he asked, tilting his chin toward the shop.
For a moment, my tongue felt heavy and unresponsive. He must’ve caught me in my moment of voyeurism.
“Uh… yes. I’m a friend of the couple,” I managed to croak out, my fib sounding weak even to my own ears.
But he didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. He grinned widely. “Oh, a mutual friend then!”
I nodded quickly, hoping he would let the matter drop.
“I was just by the lake, but I talked him into coming to the flower shop instead,” he continued enthusiastically.
“Crazy romantic, huh? Micah’s been planning this forever. He almost proposed at their spot by the lake, but I told him it would be sweeter here, less cliché.” He chuckled, clearly proud of his role in the proposal.
But my mind barely registered his words, my thoughts still tangled in the chaos of my own life.
Their spot by the lake.
The words struck me like a fist to the chest, knocking the breath out of me.
How could I have overlooked that?
“Shit, I gotta go,” I exclaimed, hastily sidestepping him, my mind racing.
“Hey, wait up! I don’t even know your name!” he called after me, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency.
I raised my hand, my engagement ring glinting in the fading light, a desperate attempt to ward him off. “I’m engaged!” I shouted, diving into my car before he could process the absurdity of my claim.
With a screech of tires, I tore out of the parking lot, my heart pounding with each frantic beat. I prayed fervently that Dean would be at the lake, that somehow this would be the final place I needed to search.
The drive felt interminable, though I knew the roads like the back of my hand. Memories washed over me like waves crashing against the shore. How many times had we taken this route back when life felt uncomplicated? When love was all we needed? When we were blissfully in love?
Finally, I parked at the edge of the woods and turned off the engine, the sudden silence enveloping me like a heavy blanket. The familiar crunch of my feet on the trail echoed in the stillness, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. Every twist and turn was etched in my memory, my body moving instinctively along the path.
And then, through the trees, I spotted him.
Dean.
A wave of relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Thank goodness.
He was still in the tuxedo from last night, the fabric soiled at the knees, his tie hanging askew as if it had surrendered to despair. He sat hunched on the ground by the lake, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his gaze lost in the depths of the water. Beside him, his phone buzzed incessantly on the grass, the screen lighting up with Chloe’s name, a haunting reminder of what was slipping away.
But he didn’t reach for it. He didn’t even flinch at the sound. I knew he heard it, yet he was unwilling to let her voice intrude upon this moment.
I swallowed hard, each step toward him feeling like a weight pressing down on my chest. I lowered myself onto the grass beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet just far enough to maintain a fragile distance.
He didn’t turn to look at me.
“You found me,” he said at last, his voice rough and strained, his eyes still fixed on the lake, as if it held all the answers.
My gaze wandered upward, catching sight of the treehouse nestled among the branches, a relic of our childhood. Our treehouse. Built with stolen nails and an abundance of youthful determination. For a fleeting moment, a smile threatened to break through the heaviness in my heart.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely escaping my lips. “It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but I figured it out.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, filled only by the gentle lapping of water against the shore, a soothing rhythm that contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside me.
“I loved her,” he said suddenly, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “God, I still fucking love her.”
His words pierced through me, twisting like a knife in my chest. My breath hitched, and I felt an ache deep within, a physical manifestation of the pain his admission caused.
“I was ready to do anything for her,” he continued, his voice trembling. “I did everything she wanted. I treated you like shit because of her, Sav. Because I wanted to please her. To make her happy.”
When he turned to face me, his eyes were raw, rimmed with red, and I felt as if someone had driven a nail straight through my ribs at the weight of his confession.
I averted my gaze, staring intently at the rippling water, as if it could offer solace from the truth.
“You’re her sister,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You knew, didn’t you? About the cheating?”
My throat constricted painfully. “No. I didn’t know. Not until last night.”
He frowned, his gaze drifting back to the lake. “I couldn’t tell her,” he muttered, his voice thick with regret. “I couldn’t look her in the eye and force those words out.”
Drawing a slow, shaky breath, I replied, “She loves you, Dean. You should’ve told her the truth-“
“After what?” he interrupted, his voice cracking, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “After I betrayed her?”
He cut me off with a dry, humorless laugh. “You think Chloe would’ve stayed knowing what I am?”
“Yes,” I lied, my heart heavy with the knowledge that my sister wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t lie to me, Sav.”
“Am I?” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
His weary eyes met mine, bloodshot and tired, and for a brief moment, the faintest flicker of a smile danced at the corner of his mouth. “You weren’t shocked. You never were.”
“Why would I be?” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”
He shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips as he turned his gaze back to the lake. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything, does it? Chloe would never stay if she knew. You and I, we live with this. She doesn’t. And if she did…” His voice trailed off, shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken words. “She’d run.”
Jealousy coursed through me like a poison. No, it was more than that. I was furious. No, envious, perhaps?
The truth was, I couldn’t quite grasp the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. My chest felt like a tightly wound knot, each thread tugged by a different feeling-anger, betrayal, and a seething resentment that clawed at me from all sides.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.