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I want to hate him, but I can’t, especially when those eyes remind me so much of Samuel’s. “Fine.” I step aside, opening the door wider.
He brushes past me, his signature fragrance somehow comforting me, but his confident swagger annoys me. I slam the door shut.
We walk in silence as I follow Saxon into the living room. I avoid looking over at the rug near the fireplace where many nights were spent snuggled in Sam’s arms. The moonlight streams in from the beautiful arched windows, highlighting the opulence in every corner. I used to love this room. Loved how the rustic feel complemented the elusive modern vibe. But now it just reminds me that I may spend the rest of my life appreciating it alone.
“I couldn’t leave knowing you were angry at me.”
“Well, guess what? You leaving guarantees I will be angry at you for a very long time. So save your apologies. Unless you’re here to tell me you’re staying, I have nothing further I wish to say to you.” I tenaciously stand my ground, making it clear I’m serious.
Saxon interlaces his hands behind his neck, shaking his head with an infuriated sigh. “I don’t ever remember you being this stubborn.”
“Ha, that’s because you don’t remember me at all. Do I need to remind you of all the times you were blatantly rude to me when I tried to say hello? Or what about the times I asked how your day was and you replied by turning up the TV?” I have no idea why I’m dredging up old memories. I didn’t even realize how much they bothered me until now.
Family is so important to me, considering my birth mom didn’t give a damn about me. I started my life as Baby M. I was named that due to the fact I was dumped on the front steps of St. Margaret’s church on a Monday night in the month of May. I was raised in the adjacent convent, but eventually, I was put into foster care.
For the first five years of my life, I was simply known as M. I didn’t have a real name, just M. Or sometimes, stupid. I bounced from foster home to foster home, never really feeling like I belonged anywhere. Some places were okay, but most were awful. I draw my lapels over my body when thinking about my home when I was four. Those scars, both inside and out, will never heal.
When a meeting was set with Maggie and Simon, I crossed my fingers and toes that they were the ones. She looked like an angel with her long, curly auburn hair, and he looked like my Superman with his strong smile.
It was love at first sight.
The first song I heard playing on the radio while driving to my new home was the song I was named after. I remember a surge of excitement surging through my tiny veins and I danced, wiggled, and jiggled in my seat because I was free.
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” by The Beatles is a song, regardless of how many times I’ve heard it before, that will always make me cry. As Simon and Maggie saw my first tears of happiness, they knew the name was perfect, and so did I.
I never sought out my biological parents because doing so felt like a big M itself—a big mistake.
So I suppose the reason why I’m so hurt at Saxon for snapping my olive branch in half time and time again is because regardless of the fact he hated me, I still saw him as family. And as much as I want to hate him now, I can’t. How can I? He’s the spitting image of my betrothed.
“I do remember you, Lucy. Someone like you is hard to forget,” he reveals. His comment catches me completely off guard. “Anyway,” he brushes off his openness quickly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I hope one day you’ll come to realize that I’m not the bad guy.”
I want to stomp my foot in protest. “Well, how about you let that day be today?” At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I step forward, interlacing my hands. “Please stay. Show your mom and dad; show Samuel that you’re not the bad guy. Whatever happened in the past—please, put it aside. I know I have no right to ask you this but if you were in Sam’s shoes, I would be asking him the same thing. Family is forever. For always. You may not like it, but you’re linked to Samuel. If he…dies—” the word slices through my throat “—I know a part of you will die with him.”
Saxon’s hard resolve dwindles, I can see it. This is the lucky break I was looking for.
“I promise you, if you stay, I will ensure that Sam—” I don’t get to finish my sentence because Saxon suddenly grows pale.
“Saxon?” I cock an eyebrow, wondering what’s wrong. “Are you all right?”
His breathing turns ragged as he presses a hand to his brow. “I’m fine,” he states a moment later, but his pained tone reveals otherwise.
I nervously bite my nails as I watch him breathe steadily through his nose. What’s going on? Has my persistent nagging given him a headache? I know it’s given me one.
It feels like hours, but I know it’s only seconds before he gradually gets the color back to his cheeks. “I think you need to sit,” I suggest, raising my hands in surrender when he scowls.
He thankfully doesn’t argue and stumbles to the couch, slumping into it with a grunt. He leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.
“Do you want a glass of water?” From where I stand, I can see the beads of sweat collecting on his brow.
He angrily whips his head around to glare at me. “I said I’m fine.”
“Okay then, no need to shout, Mr. Grumpy Guts,” I mumble under my breath.
My landline begins ringing, which I’m thankful for as I can speak to someone who actually wants to talk to me. I reach for the phone on the side table. The moment I pick it up, everything goes black.
“Sweetheart…”
I feel an electrical current singe straight through my body.
