The following day, after I spent hours running errands and shipping some jewelry pieces to customers, it was time to get ready for the Colemans' party.
For the first time, Mom didn't tell me what I should wear. I'd started catching glimpses of a different person — one I liked — and it was hard not to be hopeful. I didn't want to go overseas for who knows how long leaving our relationship in shambles.
After perusing my closet, I settled on a white dress I paired with the golden sandals I wore to Cohen's party. I gathered my hair in a sleek bun to showcase the same heart earrings I wore to my graduation and slipped the matching heart necklace together with the one Rys gave me around my neck.
The engagement ring frowned at me from the nightstand. I tossed it in my white clutch to return it to Brock, and just as I reached for my phone, it buzzed, startling me.
Hoping that the unknown number might be Rys's, I accepted the call.
"Hello?"
"Lyra?" a warm, slightly accented voice said.
I pushed the shadow of disappointment aside and allowed curiosity to take over. "Paolo. How are you?"
"Wonderful. How are you doing? Are you already in Milano?"
"That'd be fast." I sat on the bed so I wouldn't need to stand in high-heeled shoes if the conversation ran long. "I bought the ticket, but I'm not going to fly there until the second half of August. The school hasn't answered yet, anyway."
"See? That's what I call the perfect timing."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone I know is opening a jewelry boutique in Milano. They've interviewed a few people, but they need someone who knows about jewelry and speaks English. Most sales in that area come from tourists, so no language barrier would be extremely helpful. It's only part-time to start, but if you're studying, it might work. I'll text you Ginevra's email. The store is hers. I already told her about you. Please, tell me you're still looking for a job."
I pinched my lips to stop myself from letting out an embarrassing, enthusiastic squeal. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Perfetto. I've got to run now. Don't forget to tell me how the interview went, and good luck."
"Thank you, Paolo."
"You're welcome."
As soon as we hung up, a text from him appeared on the screen. I immediately emailed his acquaintance and rushed downstairs.
My heart drummed a happy rhythm at seeing Dad talking to Mom in the living room. I must've been on the phone when he arrived.
"Hi," I said from the doorway.
He opened his arms, giving me a tired smile. "Sweetheart. How's everything going? What did I miss?"
As I stepped into his affectionate embrace, Mom expelled a long sigh. "A lot. But we're going to miss the Colemans' party if I tell you everything right now."
Dad squeezed me once and kissed my forehead. "Give me a few minutes to change."
"Take your time," Mom said.
I failed to stop my brows from climbing to my hairline. "Mom?" I said once Dad was out of sight. "You, telling someone to take their time? What's wrong with you?"
She brushed invisible lint off her Chanel suit. "He drove for seven hours. The least we can do is let him get dressed calmly. We're not the hosts. Patricia and Roger can wait."
Just as Dad came downstairs and I was about to ask him about the fire, someone rang our doorbell. Mom went to open the door and returned with Brock.
I hadn't seen him in days, not that I was eager to have the one who cheated on me in my proximity. Brock shook my father's hand and leaned in to kiss me, but I sidestepped him and headed for the front door without saying a word.
Ending things right now was tempting, but Mom said shareholders would be at the anniversary party. I might not be interested in running the resorts, but I'd never do anything to jeopardize our family business. Besides, having to sit next to Brock after breaking up with him would be unbearable. I wouldn't put it past him to try and embarrass me somehow.
Even if I waited for a few hours, everything would be over tonight.
Brock sat behind the wheel. I opened the passenger door and took a seat as he started his Lexus.
"How are things at the office?" I asked. "Your mother says you've been working hard."
His eyes met mine for a second. "I have been."
"And that's it? No complaints?"
The muscle in his jaw bunched. "No time for that. Where's your ring?"
"I didn't know I had to wear one when I didn't accept your proposal. Do your parents know I didn't say yes?"
He snorted. "So, you were scared I'd leave you if we took a break only to pretend you don't want to marry me?"
I looked at the heavy evening traffic through the window, gathering my thoughts.
Brock groaned. "Lyra. Fuck, it's just that... Everyone wants something from me."
"Not everyone," I said, reaching into my purse to get a mirror and apply more of the gloss he hated.
Thankfully, Brock turned on the radio, and music saved us from engaging in another pointless conversation.
When he parked, I got out of the vehicle and squared my shoulders. Brock locked the car and made a straight line for the restaurant entrance ahead of me. The heavy door closed behind him with a thud.
I stopped outside La Delicia. After a few steps into the restaurant, Brock turned around, went back, and threw the door open, huffing. "Are you coming or what?"
"Learn how to open the door for someone other than yourself," I said, breezing past him into the packed dining hall.
My parents sat next to Brock's. I tipped my chin up in acknowledgment and dropped into my seat while Brock lowered into a chair beside me. The only thought giving me comfort was that it'd be over as soon as this dinner was over and I could give the ring back to him.
The waiters filled everyone's glasses with champagne. Brock downed his in one gulp and raised it to get a refill only to toss it back again.
A blast of air from the door opening across the hall pulled chills up my arms. A couple sitting on my right murmured something about the important guests always being late.
My gaze bounced from them to the entrance. I tightened my hold on the champagne flute while the rapid-fire heartbeats echoed in my ears, drowning out the guests' voices.
Rys advanced toward the only vacant seat, responding to greetings with nods and strained smiles. Seeing him felt like a dream I didn't want to wake up from. Because if he was here, there was a chance he turned up at the restaurant to see me, unless...
Did Brock's father know him? I had no clue. Just like my heart had no clue how to stop rattling my ribcage with drum-like beats when ocean blue eyes found mine from across the room.
Beautiful. Intense. Soft when they looked at me.
I brought my hand to my neck and closed my fingers around the golden heart.
Rys looked away, and my stomach turned jittery from the realization that he saw me sitting beside Brock as if we were a couple. As if thirty days with Rys meant nothing when they left a permanent mark on my heart.
Brock's father stood. "Now that you're all here, I wanted to thank you for attending my son's engagement celebration. To Brock and Lyra!"
Engagement celebration?
I gripped the tablecloth until my knuckles blanched. People drank and cheered. Brock nudged my side with his elbow, but all I could think about and look at was Rys, staring at his empty plate.
Shadows darkened the skin under his eyes, and worry snaked into my heart. If only he looked at me, he'd see what a joke this party was. What a nonsense this whole engagement was, especially when I didn't consent to it.
I sought my parents with my eyes just as Brock pushed his chair back and stood, a flute in hand.
"Thank you, Dad. In today's market, only the strongest survive. The Coleman Hotels and the Walton Resorts will form a union like no other, and I'm committed to offering my knowledge and expertise to make the business thrive. Over the last weeks, I—"
Slow claps cut Brock's pathetic speech short.
"Bravo," Rys said, his deep voice ringing in the hall. "For a moment there, I forgot what the purpose of this lovely gathering was." He unbuttoned his jacket and reached into the interior pocket. What he pulled out looked like an invitation.
"Who are you?" Brock said. The last word turned out so high-pitched it resembled a squeak.
"Emrys Delano. Unfortunately, my father couldn't attend the celebration, so I'm here on his behalf. This card says the gathering is to celebrate an engagement. You might have lots of business expertise you're so eager to offer, but your fiancée doesn't look happy. Isn't marriage a consensual union of two people, based on love and mutual respect? It's just an observation, but by all means, please continue."
Rys tossed the invitation onto the table and waved his hand as if giving Brock permission to speak.
"I'll..." Brock loosened his tie. Red splotches covered his face, and he bolted toward the door and out of the hall.
Brock's mother threw a panicked glance at her husband. Dad stood before either of them could follow their son. "Roger, we need to have a word."
Taking advantage of the chaos unfolding in front of me, I grabbed my clutch and jumped to my feet.
Only I was too late. Rys's seat was empty.
Panic gripped me, and my lungs constricted, begging for air. I darted out of the restaurant, trying to calm myself down by mentally counting to ten.
Being blindsided twice in less than a week was too much, but maybe it needed to happen for my father to see who his friend really was. I wished Rys hadn't learned about the Colemans' shenanigans. Seeing me next to the person who treated me like I meant nothing could only give him the wrong impression, and I needed to set him straight.
Once outside, I rounded La Delicia and sagged against the brick wall next to the staff entrance, far from the customers' eyes. Ignoring the tremor in my fingers, I fished my phone from my purse and found Rys's number.
Even if our story was over, I'd rather he didn't think of me as someone weak. I couldn't let him go without listening to my version of the events.
My finger hovered over the call button.
"Lyra." A familiar voice made me lift my eyes to look at its source.
"Rys," I whispered, finally managing a deep inhale. "I thought you left."
I hastily locked my phone and dropped it into my purse as he took a step in my direction. "Yet here I am."
The calm only Rys made me feel crested over me. "I'm not marrying him," I said. "I didn't agree to marry him, and I—"
Rys shook his head. "Don't justify yourself. I know."
"How?"
"Because I know you. And I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad at you for what you said in there. Brock deserved it." Brock's ego was used to being stroked, and Rys hurt it like only a better, more successful man could.
"I don't give a fuck about him. But I care about you."
I wanted to say that I cared about him too, but Rys edged toward me, and my body vibrated, reacting to his familiar masculine scent.
"Let me say what I should've said before you left."
I gave him a weak nod, and Rys dragged a palm down his face. "Remember you asked me how I was going to sleep without you?"
"I do." I wouldn't forget anything about him no matter how hard I tried.
"Every night without you is miserable. Even when I'm busy, you're always on my mind. In my heart. Under my skin. I tried to text you and deleted the words every time because I let you slip away. And I've hated myself for it since you left Marfolk because I was a fool to think a month with you would be enough.
"I've never felt this connection with anyone. Never thought I'd find anyone I'd willingly open up to. I know my life won't get easier anytime soon. I'm still responsible for a billion-dollar business, and my company is growing fast. It's still selfish of me to ask you to give me a chance, but I'm going to, anyway because meeting you, knowing you, and being with you changed everything."
Rys skated his fingertips over my jaw. "You're a tide changer, Lyra Walton."
Unshed tears squeezed my throat. "Rys..."
"Thirty days by your side made me want forever with you. If I need to fight for us, I will. No matter who or what dares to get in the way. No matter how hard it might be, I'll make it work."
He said everything I needed to hear. I swallowed past the ball of emotion, and as Rys caressed my face again, the leather of the bracelet I gave him brushed against my neck.
My phone vibrated with annoying insistence. Rys removed his hand. "You should answer."
"It's my mom," I said, peeking at the screen.
"I'm staying at our hotel in Wickhampton. I'll text you the location, but you don't need to rush. I'll wait until you have time to talk calmly."
Rys kissed my cheek. The brief encounter between his lips and my skin left me wanting more, but Mom kept calling.
He smiled. "Go. I'll see you soon."
"Thank you."
My eyes lingered on him for a few heartbeats, then I went back to the restaurant.
My parents stood next to the entrance. As soon as she saw me, Mom shoved her cell into her purse. "Lyra. We're going home."
***
The drive home was tense. Dad didn't say a word, and Mom stared out of the window while Rys's words played in my head on a loop.
It was barely nine o'clock when I followed my parents into the house. "Dad. Mom." I paused in the middle of the foyer. "I need to talk to both of you."
Dad flipped through the stack of envelopes he'd pulled out of the mailbox, frowning. "Let's sit."
We sat on the couch in the living room. There was so much I needed them to know words refused to come out at first, but nobody rushed me.
"It's about Brock," I said. "I didn't agree to marry him. I said nothing, but he yelled that I said yes."
Dad tossed all envelopes but one onto the coffee table. "This whole mess just keeps getting worse."
"And he's been cheating on me with Payton. I have their picture from the nightclub taken the same night he asked me for a break."
Mom gasped, but I wasn't done speaking.
"I'm going to give the ring back to him after I talk to you," I continued. "I understand that the Colemans' are your friends, but I don't love their son and refuse to marry someone who disrespects me. I deserve better."
"The ridiculous engagement shouldn't have happened in the first place. I told you meddling wouldn't end well, Amelia." Dad fixed Mom with a stern look. She brought her clasped hands to her mouth as if she couldn't wrap her head around my words while he twirled a white envelope. "Did you two see who brought this? There's no sender."
"Maybe you shouldn't open it, then." Mom massaged her temples.
"It's just some papers." He tore the letter open and took out a bunch of pages folded in half. As he unfolded them and started to read, his already tired face got paler.
"Francis, what is it?" Mom slowly shifted on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
Dad shook his head. "Wait."
Whatever he saw on those pages must've been more shocking than my news. He kept reading, then rereading while Mom and I exchanged confusion-laden glances.
"God damn it. God. Damn. It."
White pages fell to the carpet. Dad picked them up and leaped to his feet.
"What happened?" Mom asked as he took a few determined strides toward the door.
"Later. I'll be in my office."
When the echo of his angry footsteps faded, I picked up the torn envelope. "Guess we should give him space. I've never seen him so mad."
"Oh, but I have." Mom clutched her head again. "Today at the restaurant. He told Roger off for sending out invitations for the engagement party and making Brock talk about a merger that hasn't happened yet. After everything they've done, it's clear that they were using you, us, and our business. I feel awful for pushing you to be with someone who'd treat you this way. What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother have I been to you all these years?"
I tore the envelope into several pieces and crumpled them in my fist. "The signs were always there, but you chose to ignore them despite being in a happy relationship with Dad and knowing how a man should treat a woman. Brock never loved me. And I didn't know better, but I do now. That's why I'm going to give the stupid ring back to him tonight. I also need to see Emrys."
Mom gave me a weak nod. "Lyra?"
"Yeah?"
"Please, forgive me for failing you. I truly believed Brock cared like Patricia said."
"I wish it was only about Brock," I whispered.
Tears gathered in my eyes. I fixed them on the floor as I went to the kitchen, desperate to get away from Mom and the apologies that came too late. After throwing the envelope in the trash, I darted upstairs to change my shoes and wear something more comfortable. A minute after flats replaced the sandals on my feet, I knocked on Dad's office door.
I still needed to warn him about his so-called friend, although my gut told me their relationship was already in jeopardy.
"Come in," he said.
I let myself in. He sat behind his desk that was a mess of documents and open folders, still holding the pages he'd been perusing earlier.
"I'm going to give the ring back to Brock now," I said. "Are you okay?"
Dad rubbed his forehead. "Throw it in the trash. Merger." He smirked. "Not likely."
"What's on those papers?"
He waved them in the air. "The end of a decade-long friendship. Everything Roger told me about the state of his business was a lie. He's broke. And he wanted to use my daughter to save himself, but that merger would ruin us."
"Oh."
"Do what you need to do," Dad said. "But I wouldn't want you close to those people for longer than it takes to throw the ring in their lying faces. We'll talk tomorrow, alright? I need to have a word with Mom."
"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry about the fire and well, everything."
"So am I, sweetheart." Dad took off his glasses, sighing deeply. "So am I."
***
Not in the mood to alert Brock or his parents of my presence ahead of time, I parked on Brock's street and strolled toward his house, my steps quiet. The ring burned my palm, and my fingers itched to just ditch it, but I needed to have the last word. Not for closure, but for my newfound self-respect's sake.
Voices drifted from Brock's driveway. Step by a tiny step, I drew closer until I could make out the words and see him next to his car.
Him and Payton.
My heart ascended to my throat, beating so loudly it made listening hard, but I inhaled a lungful and stepped behind a tall shrub that would hide me from view.
"So, that means you won't marry her?" Payton asked. "If her father was mad..."
"I don't care about her father. My father needs me to fix it."
She threw her hands up. "He's wanted something for the last two years. Ever since the first night we spent together, you've been complaining about his demands. Do this, do that. You need to make him respect you. The company is yours too. You're his only child. He won't disown you."
"You don't get it!" Brock kicked the tire of his Lexus, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. "There's no money, and without the Waltons, there will be no company. We'll be broke. Fuck, we're already broke."
"But I thought..." Payton's voice turned thin.
He huffed a caustic laugh. "You thought? You can't think. You can only fuck. And we could've kept fucking after I got married if I hadn't insisted on the stupid break because it was your idea. You're the reason it all went to hell."
"I just wanted to be with you. I thought after this summer, you'd realize I was a better girlfriend. I quit my job to spend more time with you, and you encouraged me."
Payton sniffled. In the ten years we'd been friends, I'd only heard her cry twice.
"Stop this circus," Brock hissed. "You know damn well who a guy fucks isn't who he marries. This was never supposed to be serious."
Ignoring the bile rising to my throat, I forced my legs to move. I'd heard enough. They'd been together for two years. I had wasted twenty-four months of my life on the most awful, selfish people.
"Pay."
My ex-friend jumped. She wiped her cheeks quickly and stared at me in disbelief. Whatever bit of sympathy I felt when Brock treated her like garbage vanished. She chose to betray me, and she'd face the consequences.
"Lyra—" she started.
"I hope he's worth losing a friend and a job over," I cut in. "Although now that I've heard it all, I have my doubts."
Payton hugged herself, her eyes downcast.
"Babe," Brock said, his tone full of fake remorse. "It didn't—"
With perfect aim, I threw the ring at him. It bounced off his chest and clattered to the ground. I watched it roll and disappear under his Lexus with immense satisfaction. The ring was probably fake too, just like everything else.
"Go get it," I said. "You could get a refund and pay my ex-friend for moral damages, or get a hotel room for your family in case you're homeless come Monday. What a hard choice to make, right?"
Not in the mood to waste another precious minute of my time on either of them, I swung around and marched to my car, leaving Payton, Brock, and years of low self-esteem and gaslighting behind.
I'm so excited to know what you think!