Christian
It hurt when she blinked because I couldn't see her eyes.
Robyn didn't help my case by holding my gaze the entire time, not looking down to the floor like she usually did around me. It made me unreasonably happy that she just looked at me. I always had eyes on me and most of the time I hated it but hers? I loved it.
Raising money for cancer was a no brainer for me. I already funded more than half the wing at Mt. Sinai myself. But, if I had to attend shitty events with shitty people who donated their shitty money to make themselves feel less shitty about themselves while I smiled and talked to them in all their monumental shittiness, it would certainly make my situation a hundred times better if I had a woman as beautiful as Robyn Hale in my arms.
"You got better at dancing," she said, finally.
"Was I not good at 17?" I asked, amused.
She shrugged. She actually shrugged. "You were. But then again, I didn't have much to compare your skills against."
"Why?"
"Because no one ever came up to me and asked me." She raised an arch brow. "Who do I have to thank for that?"
"Yeah, well, everyone wanted their hands on you," I chuckled. "And I didn't like that very much."
She sighed. "You're going to give a girl a complex, you know?"
"How would I do that?"
"The most handsome man in New York has danced multiple dances with me. Gives a girl a complex, cuore mio."
I laughed softly. "Works both ways, Robyn. I've only consistently ever danced with you at events and you are the most beautiful girl in the world."
She rolled her eyes, the disbelief evident in them. I only wished she could see herself the way I saw her. Then, maybe she'd know that quite literally nothing in the world shined as bright as her.
"Your speech was beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Do you miss her?" She asked before wincing. "Sorry, stupid question."
I smiled because she was nervous and I found that ridiculously endearing. "I do miss her. Every single day."
"What your mom said was so beautiful. About being a person the world can't let go of," she put out carefully, her eyes looking into mine. They were so fucking beautiful.
She was so fucking beautiful.
"I try to live up to it every single day."
"But," she hesitated, "you know that you already are, right?"
"I am... what?"
"A person the world can't let go of."
"Oh?"
She nodded. "Of course. The world doesn't mean all seven billion of us, Christian. The world is what you make of it and what you consider to be important. In your life, it means your family and your sisters. I've known Ariadne and Bella my entire life. They would take a bullet for you any time, any day. Your dad... I know it's complicated, but he loves you–you make him so proud all the time. I can see it in his eyes. Damon and Francis? They love you too in their own alpha male way," she chuckled. "They would never let anything happen to you either. You don't have to try to live up her words every day because you already have just by being you. Your world–your family–can never let go of you, cuore mio."
Suddenly dizzy, I pulled back and twirled her under my arm, dipping her parallel to the floor and held her there, my nose gliding down hers.
"And what about you?" I asked, hoarsely.
"What about me?"
When I whisked her back up, she hung on to me closer than before. The clicks of cameras were loud all around us. Gasps and hushed whispers told me we were still very much the center of attention.
"How do you fit into my world?"
"Isn't that up to you to decide?" Her voice was small and timid, like she was afraid of hearing the answer.
"What would you like to be, Robyn?"
For the first time tonight, she looked away. Her eyes darted to my chest and stayed there. It felt like death, not being able to see her face. Her eyes. Like suffocating as the walls closed in.
"Look at me," I pleaded.
She bit her lip.
"Robyn."
Still nothing.
Logic and reason were swiftly failing me at that moment because I slid my palm into hers and spun on my heel, dragging us both off the dance floor. In the background, I could vaguely make out people calling my name and even her voice asking what we were doing. We stalked all the way to an elevator and breezed inside, shutting the doors behind us.
"Are you okay?" Robyn asked, sounding slightly alarmed and bewildered. I didn't turn to look at her, just tightened my grip on her hand. To her credit, she didn't ask any more questions, just stood silently and shuffled a little closer to me.
When we reached the highest floor, I took a breath. We spilled out into the roof, looking at the night sky.
"Wow," she said breathlessly.
I finally let go of her hand.
She walked in front of me, looking out onto the city and up in the sky. We were high enough that the heavy lights from the city didn't pollute the sky, and you could actually see some stars, but the bustling city below confirmed we were still in New York. The dulcet noises of taxis honking and people screaming faintly registered in my mind.
Robyn pressed her palms against the railing, watching the traffic and commotion below us looking up and letting the wind hit her face. She smiled wide.
It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen, her smile. Because when she smiled, everything around her was a little bit brighter. Everyone seemed to look a little happier. Sunflowers were a little more yellow, the grass truly was a little greener, and the sky was a little bluer.
I wondered what it was like to look at the world the way she did, with so much happiness and enthusiasm and love and admiration. The way she found beauty in every single thing she saw.
And yet, one of the only things I found beautiful was her. I didn't want to look at anything else, however bright they were. Everything about her was sheer perfection.
"Christian, this is so beautiful," she breathed, still grinning like she was on top of the world.
"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered.
She didn't notice that I was talking about her. Or that I was staring at her face shamelessly. I was glad she didn't. It gave me liberty to ogle her openly.
The dusting of freckles on her cheeks were on full display again, lit up by the moonlight. I wanted to devour them.
I didn't understand how she could possibly think anything was more beautiful than her. She was the most majestic art piece I'd ever seen.
She was temptation, lust, beauty, and perfection personified.
Then there was her heart—brighter than a blinding diamond and warmer than a thousand suns.
Too pure, too good, and too unblemished to be handled by mere mortals on this Earth. Even the Gods would hesitate before coming near this girl.
"I need to show you something," I told her.
"Oh?" She tilted her head to the side in a pinnacle of adorableness. Hands clasped behind her back, she gently blew hair out of her face as she looked around in awe.
A small smile pulled at my lips while I nodded for her to follow me to a corner of the rooftop, under a hidden little area where I had something for her.
It reminded me of when she was younger, and she'd drag me to The Met with her so we could spend all day there. I did it because it made her happy. And there wasn't a lot I wouldn't do to make her happy.
"What did you want to show me?" She asked.
A beat passed when she looked at my extended arm and placed her soft, tiny hand in mine. I grabbed onto it and ran my thumb through her palm.
She shivered but didn't move it away.
I yanked the tie off my neck. Predictably, her eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing?"
"Do you trust me?"
Not a moment passed before she said, "Of course."
I took a step closer and wrapped it around her eyes. Her breaths became shallower when I placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. I was intimately aware of the curve of her hips as my hands found her waist, the smell of cinnamon and berries in her hair, the velvety feel of her skin against mine.
I guided her closer until we finally stopped at a brand-new painting that was propped against an easel.
My lips found the top of her ear. "I have a present for you. To thank you for taking such good care of me these last couple weeks."
"You didn't need to get me anything," she whispered shyly.
"I wanted to," I promised.
With a shaky breath, she nodded. I peeled the tie off of her eyes.
A moment passed as she readjusted to the light.
And then she gasped so loudly it could wake the dead.
Reeling, she stumbled so her back hit my chest and I steadied her appalled body with my hands around her waist.
I looked up at what she was seeing.
In a field of bright, vibrant sunflowers, was a girl.
Not just any girl.
It was a young Robyn Hale.
Bright blue eyes.
Light brown hair.
Twelve freckles on her face.
The painting was by Vera Devereaux, an artist based out of Milan and one of Robyn's absolute favorites. Devereaux hardly did commissioned pieces, but it turned out, she was a huge fan of Robyn's work and was more than happy to do one for when I asked. I'd given her my favorite photo of Robyn, taken by me when we were kids.
"Christian, no way."
"Do you like it?"
Tears filled her eyes. "Do I like it? Are you insane? I'm... floored. I'm shocked. I'm... I don't know what I am."
A small smile pulled at my lips at her sheer incredulousness. She was so cute. So sweet.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered softly.
She must have been really shocked because she didn't budge when I kissed her neck before I took her hand in mine and raised it to the covered placard next to the painting. "Go on."
With trembling hands, she tugged on the red velvet.
Vera Devereaux, Italian.
My Little Sunflower
Oil on canvas
To the girl who brings me the most joy, the girl who makes every day bright, and to my best friend in the whole world, thank you. Thank you for being born. You mean everything to me.
Robyn ran her fingers across the words, straight up sobbing at this point. "I didn't know you had such an appreciation for the arts, Christian Ryder." She sounded impressed and amused.
"I appreciate beauty, Robyn Hale."
Soft blue eyes flickered to meet mine, her gaze heavy.
I let her look at the painting for a while longer, as she brushed tears from her eyes, observing everything about it.
I just watched her. Because to me, she was the art.
"Non ti merito, cuore mio," she whispered.
"I don't know what that means," I said.
"I don't deserve you."
"You deserve everything. And everything I have in my power to give you, you will have it. Even if I die trying."
She looked so young today. And my mind immediately went back to ten years ago. My memory of the night may have been fuzzy, but I still remembered her.
Heavy breaths.
Soft hands.
Berries. Cinnamon.
I hadn't talked to her for years after that night. Because that's what we did.
We didn't talk about anything.
We pretended like we were nothing when in reality, I couldn't even function without her.
My ultimate downfall was when she blew a lock of brown hair out of her face.
I spun her in my arms.
"What are you doing?" She breathed.
"Breaking my promise."
I closed the gap between us and crashed my lips on hers.
Sweet like berries.
Soft like silk sheets.
Desperate like a famished animal.
Angry like thousand live fires.
She gasped and stiffened, and I drew back slightly, worried it wasn't welcome. In response, she tugged at my lower lip with her teeth and moaned, kissing me back. I wrapped my arms around her waist as she threw hers over my shoulder and I lifted her tiny body off the ground. Her hands travelled from my neck to my jaw to my hair, never breaking the kiss. She exploded in my mouth, her tongue dancing with mine, and she met each stroke with approval as we kissed and kissed and kissed until we couldn't breathe.
"Fuck," I hissed against her mouth. "You taste like mine."
I set her down gently on the floor, resting my forehead against hers. Her eyes were closed, staring at my chest once again. I hated it. Using my index, I pressed the bottom of her chin and brought her face up to meet mine. The blues of her eyes were infinitely brighter as she looked at me, panting.
Then, she took a step back.
"Why did you do that?" She asked in a meek voice.
"I wanted to." Simple. Honest. True.
"Why?"
"Robyn..."
"Why now? After all this time. Why now?" Her voice was pained. I wanted to shoot myself in the foot.
"I've wanted to for years," I confessed.
"We were doing so well at being friends," she said with tears in her eyes.
"I don't want to be friends with you. All I have ever wanted in my fucking life is you, Robyn."
"You and I both know that's not true. Don't act like you have ever wanted me. Because you could have had me and you ran away."
"If we're going to talk about that night then let's talk about it because I can't keep pretending it never happened."
She bristled. "Pretending what never happened?"
"Don't. Don't do that. You know what I'm talking about."
"Christian." She tried to move away but I caught her hand in mine.
"I can't keep pretending I don't know what it's like to kiss you. To feel you underneath me. Ten years I've done this now. We need to talk about it."
Her eyes shut as she took a betrayed step backward. "Christian–"
"I don't regret you. I will never regret you. How can you not see that I will give up the moon, the stars, the fucking skies just to be with you? How can you not see that without you, I cannot breathe? How can you not see that you are the only person in the entire world who has ever owned my heart?"
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
"You don't mean all that," she said, tears streaming down her face.
It felt like a stab and a twist to my gut.
"Of course, I do. I have never meant anything more in my life."
"Then why did you leave?"
"What?"
"After it happened, you just left me."
She said it like it pained her.
"I—I was fucking stupid. And terrified. Terrified that I just fucked things up with the only person in the world I ever cared about."
A moment passed.
"Just please talk to me," I begged.
Another step back.
Two.
Another step back.
Three.
Her voice was soft. "You want to talk, Christian?"
"Yes."
Her arms wrapped protectively around her waist.
"I was pregnant."
My blood ran cold.
"I lost it."
I stared at her in a mixture of disbelief and shock as the world spun.
"Robyn."
She shook her head gently amid tears.
"You left me. When I needed you, you left me. Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you know how much I wanted to talk to someone then? To you? And do you know how much my lungs burned every time I saw you after that? Do you know how much I wanted to cry every single day of my life? How many nights even today I spend thinking about it?"
My chest constricted heavily.
She took another step back.
"I wanted to talk, Christian. I really did. But you made the choice for us when you decided that you wanted nothing to do with me after you slept with me once."
"Robyn, please," I begged. "Don't leave me again."
"I can't do this," she said, clutching her heart.
With that scalding conclusion, she turned on her heel and practically ran into the elevator, leaving me alone on the rooftop.
There was no one—nothing I had ever wanted in my life than to be worthy of being around someone like Robyn. There was nothing I wanted more than her.
Everything. Nothing.
I wanted her—only her. Everything about her.
The only girl I wanted that life with, didn't want me back.