Page 27

Story: Vow of Vengeance

I hang up the call. The screen goes dark. I stand from the cheap hotel bed. Run my fingers through my hair.

At this rate, I’ll be bald, tearing my hair out by the end of the year.

I need to call Liam and confess what I’ve done. Eros has my back; I know he’s not told anyone about my detour from Inverness, Scotland, to New York. He’ll leave it to me to face the music.

I have no idea what the consequences will be, but I know I’ll face them with more courage than I showed today when I left my mom’s house without telling my brother who I am. At least I was strong enough to do the right thing and let Ophelia go.

I pack my things to leave. The ringing of my phone stops me from grabbing my bag. Hope tugs in my chest as I look at the screen.

Is it her?

I recognize the number. It’s not Ophelia. My heart sinks.

I have to clear my throat to answer. “Mom. What’s up?” I lift my hand to my hair, then tell myself to lower it back down. I shove it in my pocket.

She dives right into the conversation. “Look, Harrison. I know I was a shitty mom?—”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “A really shitty mom. But I’ve had the chance to try again, and I am, Harrison, I am trying. I’m trying my scrawny little ass off.”

I choke back a laugh. As angry as I was at her, I always enjoyed her self-deprecating sense of humor. I say, “I thought you looked pretty good today.”

“Thanks. If you’re being sincere,” she says. “Anyway. I didn’t kill your dad. I know you don’t believe me. One day, I hope to explain the accident, but?—”

“Mom. It’s fine.” It’s not, not really, but I can’t take the pain in her voice. “And it looks like you’re doing pretty good with the kid. Though you really could have chosen a better name.”

She cackles into the phone. “That was all his father.”

“He seems like a good kid,” I offer.

“He is. And you should get to know him.” Her voice softens. “He always wanted a brother.”

Her words change something in me. “I did, too.”

“Come back to the house,” she says. “Get to know him.”

Ophelia is gone. I’m already going to pay for breaking the rules and coming here. She’s offering an olive branch. The right thing to do is to go back and meet with her and Blaze.

It’s too late to do it for Ophelia, but I will be a better man.

For me and for my brother.

I accept. “Okay. But don’t try to feed me any of that wedding soup.” I’m too depressed about Ophelia to eat anything even named after marriage.

She laughs, and then we arrange for me to come by on my way out of town. I hang up, glancing around the hotel room. I pack up the video screen on the dresser first, cringing at the memory of Ophelia’s tear-filled face.

I go to grab the plug from the wall. The screen lights up. I stop.

There’s only one person who would bring that screen to life.

“Ophelia?”

I sink back onto the bed, staring at her. She’s got her hair down and a hoodie on over that sexy bra I made her wear. “Haze.”

Do I hang up? Demand that she never speak to me again, beginning now? I have no desire to do either.

I’m no longer the one in control, and I don’t want to be.

I simply say, “Hi.”

She starts by taking a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

“Go on,” I say.

“There’s this thing that’s been bubbling up and bubbling up, and I can’t ignore it any longer. And not having you here with me, it’s made me realize what I’m feeling. And I can’t keep it inside anymore.”

“Tell me.” I lean forward. “What is it?”

She heaves a sigh, then says three words that change everything. “I love you.”

Love.

The most dastardly four-letter-word of them all.

She says those words, and then, she waits.

Her words hang between us, heavy with meaning and expectation. The weight of her declaration rests heavily on me like a burden I’m not sure I can carry.

I’m obsessed with her. All I think about is her. Since she came into my life, the only thing I want, crave, and need…

Is her.

Ophelia has become my entire world.

Her voice gets quiet. And she asks me a dangerous question. “Do you love me?”

I lock onto her beautiful blue eyes, searching my icy soul for the words I’m unworthy of saying. Her expression brims with hope and vulnerability as she waits.

All she wants is three little words.

How do I tell her I’m not capable of giving her the pure, sweet love she deserves?

I offer a controlling, manic… maniac kind of love, needing every ounce of her to belong to me. My chest burns with self-loathing. I never, ever want to hurt her.

Her expression falters. I’ve waited too long to answer. I owe her this much; I owe her at least an answer.

Finally, I say, “You’re the only thing that matters to me anymore. But you deserve more.”

She sets her jaw. Her eyes narrow. Her gaze hardens.

“Then give it to me,” she challenges me. “I know you can.”

She’s constantly pushing me, demanding I be the man I say she needs. Can I be that man? I don’t know.

But maybe she does.

I trust her. Implicitly. I’ll tell her what I know; then, she can decide what kind of love she deserves.

I bare my soul to her, desperately hoping that even in my screwed-up state, I am enough.

I say, “You’re the first thing on my mind in the morning.” Desperation edges into my voice. “And that’s saying a lot because my mind is such a mess when I wake up. When I close my eyes at night, I see your face. I love everything about you. I want to be with you every moment of the day.” Wishing I could reach through the screen that divides us and hold her, I plead with her to understand. “I want you. I want all of you. Every perfect inch of you.”

She stares at me. “That is love, Haze.”

I allow her words to sink in. Can it be this simple? Everything I’m already feeling for her…

Is love.

She’s right. She’s always right.

We stare into one another’s eyes. The understanding that passes between us changes everything; this moment defines our future. For the first time in forever, I feel joy.

And I say, “Ophelia, I love you.”

In a moment, she goes from crying to laughing. Her blue eyes are wide and filled with happiness as she stares at me. “I know you do. I can feel it. I just needed you to know it.”

“I can be pretty dense sometimes,” I say.

“No,” she laughs. “You’re not. It’s just good to hear you say you love me, too.”

“Yeah. Thanks for being patient.” To my shock and horror, tears creep into the corners of my eyes. Quickly, I brush them away. "I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say. “Don’t you move a muscle.”

Her smile twitches. “And what happens if I move a muscle?”

“Then—” I smile back. “You know what? You do whatever the hell you want. Just please, please, be there when I get back,” I beg. “Please.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “But maybe if you repeat it, you’ll convince me.”

And I say the words she wants to hear, freeing myself from the chains of my past.

“I love you, you perfect, beautiful girl,” I say. “I love you.”

Ophelia

I stand in the church doorway, unable to tear my gaze away from my husband-to-be. He doesn’t see me hiding in the wings where I can observe him while I wait for my musical cue to walk up the aisle to meet him. If you’d told me he could look more handsome, I’d have said it was a lie, but now, with him in his tailor-made tux and a happy smile on his face, I’m speechless at how handsome he looks.

I love him. It feels so good to say those words and hear him say them back. I love him, and I love that he had to have his brother beside him at the altar for this day. And his mother in the first pew, right beside mine.

Turns out forgiveness means more to him than revenge.

Ecstatic by our wedding plans, Liam quickly forgave Haze for breaking protocol and going to his family. Liam and Emilia personally extended the invitation to my mother-in-law—still getting used to that term—to our bachelorette party spa day. Her hair is a warm shade of honey that suits her skin tone, and they’ve made her up just enough to enhance her delicate bone structure. They have the same nose, her and him and his brother.

Blaze stands beside Harrison, my husband's younger, taller version. He’s much closer to my age than Harrison and we enjoy playing games on the Play Station together while Harrison looks on, grumbling about us wasting our time and ruining our eyesight but he’s the one to get up and ask Gian for more of his gourmet butter popcorn, so I don’t think he minds it too much.

Blaze’s uncomfortable in his fine black Armani suit, and he keeps reaching up to adjust his collar or tug at the tie Grandma probably tied too tightly.

I feel him, having traded in my joggers for a Luca Magliano gown, the lace itching my lower back where it dips low, just above my ass. The silky fabric sweeps over my body, hitting all the right places so I look elegant and sexy all at once.

I look amazing in this dress, so I’ll deal with the discomfort.

This morning, I knew it was time to put my necklace back on. Now, I wear the three strands of pearls around my neck. Matching earrings adorn my earlobes, a family heirloom and an apology gift from Grandma.

Even as she still tried to tell me my dress was too revealing and improper to wear in a church. But now that we know she’s the one who hacked into Haze’s account and had two of her bridge buddies rob him in a park, Mom told her to turn her other cheek the other way and go take a seat in her pew.

Wait till Grandma sees my black graduation dress, made by the same Italian designer as the gown I wear today, modeled after Freya’s asymmetrical one I loved so much. It’s only got one sleeve, the bare skin showing well past my shoulder. She’s going to flip.

Grandpa squeezes my arm. “That’s us, Ophelia.” He smiles at me.

“Thank goodness you were paying attention,” I say, my stomach a flight of butterflies. “I would have missed it.”

There’s a Bachman-only ceremony later tonight, one I have no idea what to expect from, but Harrison reassures me I’ll be fine. I’m a little shaky in this new world. There are so many people for me to meet, women in the family who want to get to know me, but it will all have to wait. I’m going to be very busy on my two-week sexcapade honeymoon, and no one better even think about interrupting us.

I’m here, finally. We’ve reached the altar. I give Grandpa my cheek to kiss. He pats my hand and goes to join the family in their pew. Haze takes my hands in his, looking so deep into my eyes that I’m sure he sees my soul.

“There you are.” He squeezes my hands. “My bride. You look—” His eyes travel from the sparkly tiara on my head to the pointy tips of my silver heels. “There aren’t words to do you justice.”

“Then just tell me you love me,” I whisper.

“I love you.” He smiles so deep, I see his dimple.

We go to kiss, and there’s a loud cough from the reverend, stopping us.

Whoops!

“Umm… we’re going to save that for later, you two. I’m sensing the groom is eager to kiss his bride.” He addresses the congregation. “Should we get started, folks?”

A quiet laugh rumbles through the crowd.

Hand in hand, we make our vows. Not vows of vengeance. Instead, we vow to love one another.

Forever.

The end