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“Roan,” she finishes, with a knowing smile. Moms know their little girls. Especially ones who fought every step of the way to bring one into a world who didn’t know violence and danger.
“How did you know?”
“Sweetheart, I’m your mother. I’ve known how you feel about that boy since the day you met him.”
I laugh around my tears, trying to keep my curls from falling into my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Everything is so messed up and I feel like we just keep destroying each other. First he lied and said he slept with a girl in Athens and then I slept with his brother, and it’s just been a mess,” I blurt, regretting it instantly. “It was all a lie too. He never fucked that girl.”
“Athens? While they were in Greece four years ago?”
I nod and the expression on her face shifts, realization maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never seen this look on her face before. “What?”
“He told you he had sex with someone there?”
“He didn’t say he didn’t. Tiller told me he did, and Roan said, ‘Tiller can’t keep his mouth shut.’ But he didn’t deny it and I went on believing it was true.” I shrug. “I don’t know if I should believe him, or if it even matters. I’m supposed to marry Agustin but I keep thinking to myself, if this lie hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have slept with Tiller, and none of this would have been an issue. So really it’s all my fault.”
Mom’s eyes tear up. “Oh, honey.” She yanks me into her arms.
“What do I do, Mommy?” I cry against her shoulder, sobbing and sinking into her, much like I did to Roan the other night. He couldn’t offer me much, other than him needing a cold shower. But my mom, she can give me an answer, can’t she? I pull back, wiping my nose with a napkin she hands me.
Tender and forgiving, she smiles. “I think you know in your heart what you’re supposed to do. Someone once told me that if I had to choose between the love of my life, and my soul mate, who would I choose?”
The knot in my chest pulls tighter, my tears blurring my vision of a woman I admire more than she will ever understand. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, not necessarily.” She reaches out and places her hand on my cheek. “One is a choice, and the other isn’t.”
Her words, they hold meaning and comfort, and I do know. I know exactly what I need to do. Roan isn’t a choice. He’s automatic. A preset. One I have absolutely no control over. I knew deep down I had to follow my heart because I knew if I didn’t, I’d spend the rest of my life wishing I had.
I wake up in the morning wishing I was back on that beach with her. My neck is stiff, as always, my back sore, every muscle aching for a different reason. The worst part? My fucking heart. God, it’s torture and unlike anything I’ve experienced yet. I feel like Tiller’s nut sac when he smashed it. There I am, bloody, bruised, and broken.
I think back to my first memory of her. My heart thumps painfully in my chest. She was ten years old, black hair falling into those pretty green eyes looking up at me with determination and awe. It crushes me. Tears my chest apart and leaves it wide open to injury. I fucking hate it.
I roll over and bury my face in the pillows, praying it suffocates me.
I know Ophelia wants stability, and me, well, I’m not that. I can’t even go as far as to promise her tomorrow. She knows that. But on the morning of the day she’ll no longer be mine, I can barely function enough to peel myself from my bed and do something about it.
Today, another man will be placing a ring on her finger unless I stop him. Have you ever heard that “Everywhere” song by Tim McGraw? If you haven’t, listen to it. Ricky is a country music fan, so I’ve unfortunately been subject to all his music over the years. Anyways, ignore the first few verses and fast forward to after the first chorus. The one where the people start asking about the girl and she has a normal life. The kind Ophelia would have with him.
But it’s the main chorus that hits me when he realizes that even though he lets her go, she’s still with him everywhere he goes, in his mind, his heart, always reminding him that though he stepped away, his soul can’t.
I didn’t want that to happen. Whether I want to admit it or not, my life, her life and our future is on the line today. Unless I do something about it.
My door swings open with a thud followed quickly by “What are you still doing in bed?”
I rip the pillow from my head. Judging by the height and voice, it’s Camden. I stare at him, or attempt to. Not only is it dark in my room but my eyes are heavy, the remaining threads of sleep hanging on. “I was sleeping.”
“You shouldn’t be. We have a wedding to stop.”
I lean over the side of the bed for my shorts. After getting them on, I sit up. Running my hand over my face, I laugh lightly. “We?”
“Yes, we.” He sits beside me on the bed. “I’m a part of this.”
“Says who?”
He points to his chest, his tanned cheeks slightly pink, blond hair falling into his eyes. “Me.”
With a sigh, I stand. “I need coffee.”
He follows me. “Okay, but then we need a plan. Maybe Tiller can help.”