Page 79 of No Greater Oblivion

“Dahlia! Jesus.”

I quickly readjust myself and zip my pants before stumbling after her.

She makes her way to the sidewalk and starts digging through her purse in search of something. I come up behind her and touch her arm but she pulls away from me as if the touch burns.

Absolutely not.

I grab her and spin her around. “We’re not doing this.”

“It was a mistake,” she rambles, short of breath and red-cheeked. Her lips are swollen and her hair is wild and she has never been as beautiful as she is now. “This…this was a mistake…”

“Enough. Come on, let’s go inside. You’re trembling.”

Dahlia forces herself free and then spins of the balls of her feet to push me away. I catch her wrists instead. “I hate you,” she seethes. “I hate you⁠—”

“Ya basta, Dahlia. Enough.”

She blinks and only now do I realize her eyes are glistening with tears. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me…I…I can’t believe I did this to Rian.”

Her words trial off to a barely audible whisper but I hear and loathe every single one of them. Rage flickers to life inside me and my grip tightens around her wrists, forcing her to look at me. “Is he really who you’re thinking about right now? Is he more important than what just happened between us?”

Jealousy burns through me when she doesn’t answer, mingling with the ire bubbling in my veins. Looking at her now I understand what it means to be driven to the brink of madness by a woman. How obsession and possession can drive a good man to sin beyond redemption. Every time she says Rian’s name it becomes more difficult to keep my temper under control.

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think saying his name in my presence not five minutes after I was inside you is a good idea.”

Her eyes meet mine with all the heat and intensity of an infernal blaze. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re about ten seconds away from getting kidnapped a second time. Adjust yourself.”

When she tugs on my hold again, I release her. It happens quickly; I spot her hand from my peripheral and catch it just before the hit lands.

“I don’t mind being slapped around but I’d prefer it if we kept those activities confined to the bedroom.”

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Must’ve been the Stockholm Syndrome.” She yanks her arm away. “Get out of my face. I can’t stand to even look at you.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Alejandro—”

“No! No,” I tell her. “I’m not doing this anymore. This is crazy. Dahlia, I love you. Te quiero, te amo, eres el amor de mi vida. Did you think moving to New York was enough to keep me away from you?”

“Clearly it was!” she interrupts. “Seeing as it took you an entire year to show up.”

“I was wrong. I should’ve come back sooner.”

“No,” she snaps in response. “You should’ve never let me go to begin with.”

“You weren’t exactly keen on staying either, Dahlia. Tell me, what would you like to resent me for today? Letting you go when you asked to be set free or not chasing after you when you were very adamant about cutting me out of your life? To the point where not even Lettie or Diego speak to you anymore?” Her mouth snaps shut. “Tú misma ni siquiera sabes lo que quieres.”

She doesn’t speak. I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t know what to say or if it’s because she’s afraid of what she really feels.

“Please, let’s just…let’s start over. Let’s go inside,” I urge, gently, so as not to trigger her walls coming back up. “Let’s talk about this. I know the last year has been…”

“Been what?” she asks, so softly I wonder if I’ve even heard her.

“Hell. Torture. Misery.” This time when I reach for her, she stumbles into my arms. I wrap an arm around her waist and slide my fingers into her hair, needing to feel all of her against all of me. “Please don’t push me away anymore. Watching you with Rian…no sabes como me llena de rabia verte con el. Acariciándolo, besándolo, mirándolo. Mirándolo de la misma manera que solías mirarme a mí.”

She pushes against me but the effort lacks resolve. “I need you to stop.”