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“What do you want, Sebastian?” I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.
Why can’t I scream and rage at him? Why can’t I tell him to go fuck himself? I’ve thought about this moment for two years. I’ve planned every scathing comment I would throw in his stupid smug face until he curled up in the fetal position begging me to stop. When he called me out of the blue a few weeks ago, he caught me off guard. At least that’s what I told myself to make me feel better about why I didn’t give him hell on the phone and instead just hung up on him midsentence. I’m prepared now. I’ve been working on building my confidence back up, but with just one backhanded compliment from him, I’ve turned right back into the woman I was when we were married. A weak, pathetic fool who can’t speak her own mind or stand up for herself.
“I told you on the phone we needed to talk, but you hung up on me. I got tired of waiting for you to call me back, so I phoned Alana and asked her where I could find you,” he explains.
Alana. OF COURSE.
Out of my six older sisters, she’s the only one who ever liked Sebastian. Yes, you heard that correctly. I have six sisters, each one more aggravating than the next. After our mother popped out one daughter after the other, all within ten years, she decided being a wife and a mom wasn’t as much fun as she thought it would be and left my father with all of us. She sends us each a birthday card every year, and honestly, we don’t even miss her. My father made sure we never felt like we were lacking in the parent department, and having so many older sisters felt like I had six meddling mothers anyway, always sticking their nose in my business and telling me what to do.
I always wondered if Alana had a crush on Sebastian, and now I feel like it’s been confirmed. It’s no secret in my family the way he treated me and the reason for our divorce, and her telling him where he could find me feels like a huge betrayal and smack in the face. When I lost my home, I sent them all a group text telling them I’d moved and where they could find me, stressing that it was for emergency purposes only. I didn’t tell them I lost my house, I just told them I needed a change. I didn’t need six overbearing women, along with my father, charging down here trying to fix my problems.
“Mon amour, are you listening to me?” Sebastian asks in frustration, pulling me out of my thoughts as I continue standing in front of him, my arms still wrapped around my waist, trying to hold myself together.
“Don’t call me that,” I say through clenched teeth, the nervous butterflies in my stomach calming slightly when I find a tiny bit of strength buried deep down inside.
He lets out a heavy sigh like I’m the most annoying person in the world, but I can’t seem to dig any deeper inside of myself to come up with any further response. I’m suddenly so exhausted and sad that I don’t even know how my legs are holding me up at this point.
“Sweetheart! There you are! I’ve been wondering what was taking you so long!”
My head jerks up from staring in a daze at a piece of lint on Sebastian’s jeans to see Eric jump down off of his boat and jog towards me, not even looking in Sebastian’s direction as he passes him. He’s wearing black dress pants, a grey button-down with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a shiny black pair of dress shoes, and I don’t know why I ever thought I could compare him to Sebastian. He’s more mature. More distinguished. Full of class when he isn’t being annoying. A business professional with a brilliant head on his shoulders, and a sweet, thoughtful, down-to-earth man who makes me laugh and pushes my buttons, never once making me feel like I’m less than what I am. He’s so handsome as he stalks towards me, his eyes staring right into mine, that it takes my breath away.
When Eric reaches me, in one fluid motion he slides an arm around my waist and the other hand across the side of neck until he’s gripping the back of it underneath my hair. With a jerk of his arm locked tightly around me, he pulls my body flush against his. My hands fly up between us and I press my palms against his chest as I look up at him in shock, wondering what the hell he’s doing, part of me not even caring as long as he doesn’t let go.
