PRESLEY
Something was wrong. Fucked up. Twisted with a sense of illusion. He was here. Lurking and moving slowly over the shadows of the dark.
It was bizarre becuase he wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be waiting outside or even persisting to get me to hear his side of the story.
He was stubborn as hell. Usually he would have left by the time the clock struck nine but as I glanced at the clock which read 11:30 p.m, I knew something was wrong.
I stood by the window, peeking through the blinds and watching as he sat in his car, the heat on full blast and steaming, fogging the windows but I could still make the clear outline of his beautiful, rugged face.
The tinted windows were rolled down slightly, just enough for the smoke from his lit cigarette to dance through and into the dark night.
He ran a busted knuckle through his black air, inhaling a heavy breath and his chest heaving a consistent rhythm.
It was in the middle of March and one of the coldest nights which was an effect of the brutal winter in Chicago and I knew that it wasn't sustainable for the man to be cooped up in the car with the heat on full blast all night.
Especially as I watched him reclining the leather seats all the way back, his feet propped on the dashboard and a finger constantly twiddling the cherry cigarette.
I knew what that meant. He was prepared to spend the night outside, cooped up in the black Audi of his with the heat on full blast if it meant I would eventually talk to him. Damn it.
With a small groan, I reached for my phone and typed out a furious message.
Presley: Go home, Silvio.
Do not text this number: If you talk to me, I will. Five minutes is all I'm asking.
Presley: No. Leave.
Do not text this number: As soon as you talk to me. Otherwise, I'll be forced to resort to extreme measure.
Presley: You wouldn't dare.
Do not text this number: Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking and after, I'll leave you alone. Forever.
My heart throbbed, pounding and flushed as I read his message over and over again before I groaned lowly, mentally smacking myself in the head as I typed out a response.
I knew I was making a fucking huge mistake, kicking myself in the gut and ripping out all the bandaids I'd plastered on myself to keep my emotional state together and putting myself in the front line to take the damage but I also knew I needed to hear him out.
I needed both sides of the stories and the full story because a part of me—a misguided and deluded part—still refused to believe that the man standing in front of me, shivering slightly and rubbing his hands together in an effort to produce spontaneous heat would break my trust.
"Hi." His deep, warm voice spoke, toasting my insides and melting every single muscle in my bone.
He quietly slammed the doorway shut, taking hesitant steps into the room when I didn't respond to his greeting.
I breathed in a deep breath, willing my body to relax and not fucking jump every single time he moved an inch of that hard big body.
It was quite ridiculous because he was much too big for everything.
Too much to contain in my small, single residential home and with every step he took, I could feel the house shaking and the ceiling threatening to shatter under him.
I shook my head as I watched him fully enter the living room, his dark eyes slanting a glance over at the portraits that lined up the wall in chronological order.
The corner of his lips tipped into a small smile as he slowly walked over to the picture that'd manage to catch his eyes.
He reached out, a hard thumb grazing the glass portrait of a baby. It was me. I was mid-crawling, all flushed chubby cheeks and soft eyes with a wide toothy smile.
My heart throbbed with an unknown blissful feeling when I caught the look of softness in his eyes.
I cleared my throat moving to stand beside him. "You said you wanted to talk."
"Yeah." He murmured gruffly, his eyes glittering with fondness. "You were adorable as a baby."
I raised a brow. "How do you know that's me?"
He clicked his tongue, a tone of disapproval in his voice as he spoke. "You insult me, Angel." He pointed out the birthmark on my arm—the same one that he used to spend hours grazing and touching.
It'd been an innocent little trait about me, one I hated before I met Silvio because I thought it made me look like a freak. A giant shaped mark of a state on my arm. Quite noticeable.
"Your mother cares about you."
"Hm?"
Those green eyes flickered with an unknown mist of longing emotion. "I didn't have this growing up."
He spoke quietly, inhaling a deep breath and shuddering slightly with uneven breaths. "We had this small cottage house in the woods. I remember it so vividly because it was freezing all the time."
A small emotionless laugh before he continued. "She would make me wear layers of clothing every night to bed, wrap me up with blankets and kiss me on the forehead. She didn't show affection often but when she did, I knew she wouldn't be back for a while."
"She?"
A slanted glance at me and a small ironic smile danced on the curve of his lips. "My mother."
I couldn't say anything because this was the first time I was hearing of his so-called mother.
He never talked about her, never said a word about his family and the only thing I knew was that he was an orphan which meant she died.
Eventually.
I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it out of the fear I had that he would stop talking and shut me out once again alone for his words to fend for themselves on the tall cliff they were dangling from.
He shook his head with an amused smile. Ran a palm down his beard and huffed a heavy sigh almost like it pained him to open up about his past.
"Silvio." My feet instinctively moved on their own accord to hold him but I stopped myself in time. "You don't have to do this."
"I do." There was a certain tightness in his face. "I want you to know everything. I want to start being honest about everything, Angel."
It was silent for a moment before he began speaking again. "She was always so paranoid, always believing people were watching us, plotting against us and someone was going to harm me."
His green eyes were glossed over slightly but he was still glancing at the picture of me as a baby, unfocused and I could tell he'd slipped into some form of memory repressed in his mind.
"She would leave at times but usually it'd be a day or two, maybe even three. Because of that, I quickly learned how to cook meals, take care of myself because I didn't know if she would ever come back."
When he paused, I took the opportunity to ask him a question. "How old were you?"
"Seven."
My heart shattered into pieces, aching with a growing numbing sensation that throbbed around the walls of my chest as I imagined Silvio as a child left to fend for himself without his mother around.
Everything inside me screamed to take him into my arms, wrap my arms around his body and hug him tight but I couldn't. I wouldn't.
And so I clenched my fingers into fist by the side of my hips and dug my fingernails into my thigh to keep myself from offering him comfort.
Despite my interruption, he continued like before, "When she came back after two weeks, I could tell something changed. She was different, lighter and told me how much she loved me before I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night because I was cold—freezing almost and I stepped out of bed and slipped on something."
"Was it—"
He confirmed my assumptions with a nod. "Gasoline."
Oh god.
I might throw up.
He was as calm as ever, devoid of emotions as he recounted one of the most terrifying and horrifying memories from his past. A moment where he was truly helpless, nothing but a small child who relied on an absent mother.
"I didn't think much of it and as I was searching for blankets, I saw her. Huddled in the corner and mumbling to herself. She told me to go back to bed and everything would be fine in the morning but I knew something wasn't right."
Slowly, realization dawned on me like a bucket of ice cold water coursing through my veins. My heart shattered and anxiety pounded in the far distance. "Oh gosh."
He let out a bitter laugh that dripped with contempt. "I was sleeping beside her when she did it. I tried to escape and run out but she kept me wrapped around her, wanting us to go together and be cleansed. Somehow, I survived the fire. I don't know how but I did."
"Your fear of women.."
He nodded slowly. "I found it hard to be around women with the same physical traits as her. It was like a nightmare for me, and I avoided being around women. My fear manifested into a psychological disorder where it physically ached for me to touch women."
Another shaky breath. "I swore off love, didn't want it, didn't crave it because the last time I did—the only time I did, it left me with scars and nightmares to last me for the rest of my life and then I met you."
Me.
He causally threw those soft green eyes on me, lit fire burning in his irises and completely consuming me until I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. Couldn't move.
The only thing I could do was listen to him and hope to God I would still be standing when this was all over.
"You changed that. I wanted you so much that it took control of my body and mind. Didn't mind the pain of touching you if it meant I got to touch you."
A slow, amused smile overtook his features. "I never hated you, Angel."
"Silvio." I couldn't hear anymore of this. My heart was aching, throbbing from the secrets of his past that shaped him into the man he was today, the same man I loved but it was too much. Too emotional, too fragile and too painful to listen to.
"Stop."
"Ask me why I never talked to you all those years. Why I kept my distance?"
"Silvio."
The intensity of his lit gaze was searing, all his entire focus was singled on me and I couldn't tear my eyes away. "Ask me, baby."
"Why?" My voice was shaken up and a little quiet but it was audible.
"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you in that cafe, I couldn't get you out of my mind. You consumed every single thought of mine and I hated it. I hated it so much I wanted to push you away, wanted to make you hate me so it was much easier lying to myself in the name of protecting you."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "And when I eventually realized I couldn't stay away from you any longer, imagine my surprise when you land into my arms a few months later. I didn't know how to tell you, baby. Didn't know how to explain how I've been obsessed you from the minute I saw you glare at the man checking out you ass."
There was something so very wrong with me because here this man was declaring his love for me, and I could feel the tiny, small droplet of moisture escaping and slipping down my cheek.
The broken sob flying out of my throat, the tears brimming in the sides of my eyelids, and sloshing down my cheek in long rivers of pent-up frustration and longing.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't even glance at him as he continued speaking because I knew that he'd dug into my heart and clutched the self-defensive bandaids I'd plastered into myself and flung them out, leaving me raw and bare, and open to every single emotions I'd tried so hard to bottle ever since I flew across the world.
And now, I felt everything. Every single word. Every groan. Every heated stare.
He turned around to face me head-on, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "I've never loved anyone before, Presley. I don't know to love someone or at least I thought I didn't but then there was you. All the little things about you I love. I loved how you always glared at me whenever I came too close or looked at you a moment too long. I love when you get cold easily and you snuggle closer to my chest and the look of delight on your face. All those damn cheesy hallmark movies you love. I love when you get out of the shower and you smell like me. I love the look of happiness on your face and the small smiles you give me even when I don't fucking deserve it."
He reached out slowly, brushing a hard thumb over my lips in this slow dancing in the dark way. The way something snuck up on you suddenly like a feeling of comfort and one day you woke up and didn't know how you've ever lived without it.
I sucked in a sharp breath trying to control the strangled sob that left my throat.
A thumb wiped the side of my chin, flicking away the tears effortlessly. "Ever since I'd learned about what love means, it feels like the word love isn't a good enough goddamn word to describe how much I am deeply and madly obsessed with you, Angel but I am."
His voice was low and warm, thick with emotions as he said, "I am unearthly and irrevocably in love with you."
My heart throbbed with pure bliss at his words, the desire and love swirling around his eyes was like diesel coating the flame that'd erupted around my heart and set it on fire.
I inhaled a shaky breath, sniffing and pressing my face into his shoulder, trying desperately to contain the churn of emotions rushing through me like an inner cleanse.
He grabbed my jaw, running a thumb over my eyelids, flushed cheeks in the way he would kiss me. Slowly and filled with fondness. "I'm fucking sorry, Angel. I'm so sorry."
He loved me.
He hurt me.
He invaded my privacy.
"You left me."
"I know."
My throat burned with conflicting emotions. "You don't deserve me, Silvio."
"I know." He swallowed hard almost like the small confession that'd escaped my lip was hard to hear but understandable as well. "I never did but I want to work to deserve you. Give me a second chance, baby."
I fought the urge to laugh at his words before continuing. "You've hurt me a lot, walked out on me, lied to me. You understand this right?"
He nodded slowly in understanding. "I know."
"And all those documents. All those years you knew me and all my information you kept and shoved it in my face. You're just like him—you're no better. You're a fucking coward, Silvio."
He inhaled a sharp breath and winced slightly like I shot him straight in the fucking heart but didn't falter in his argument. "I know. I fucked up so badly, baby. I couldn't think when you told me you loved me. Couldn't make sense of it and like a coward, I ran. It's not an excuse though."
A slow brush of his thumb pad against the side of my warm cheek. "I'm so fucking sorry and I'll spend the rest of my goddamn life making up for it—I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how sorry I am. Come home with me."
"No." I shook my head adamantly like I'd made up my mind even despite his love confession. "No. That's not fair."
Twisting my body, I took a single step back and glanced at the room in a moment of careful hesitation. He was silent, gazing at me with this new profound confidence that said it all.
He knew I wasn't going to forgive him easily and he wasn't expecting me to do so but the heated look in those green eyes as he glanced deep into my eyes told me he was going to fight back for me.
He wasn't going to easily give up and call it a day. And I wasn't either.
My lips were dry, my throat choked up from the conflict of emotions I was feeling. "You broke my trust, lied to me, invaded my privacy and now you're here.. telling me you love me and expecting it to be a magic pill and I'd what?"
Blinking out of the daze of daydreams and happily ever after he'd put me under, I took another step back wanting to get away from his commanding and intoxicating presence. "You thought I'd get on the plane with you and we'll continue playing house?"
I scoffed and shook my head at how idiotic this whole situation was. "I am sorry about your past, Silvio and I'm so sorry about your mother but I am not her, and I'm not some test subject to get you to believe in love again."
He exhaled a shaky breath, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You're not that. Never."
"You've made me that!" I threw my hands up into the air in a brief moment of frustration.
He didn't understand but I didn't want to be that woman. I didn't want to be some form of test subject for him to learn what love was again.
I wanted to be loved unconditionally and purely, not with a man who didn't know what love was as of two weeks ago and definitely not with a man who was planning on using me as his crash course to Being in Love for Dummies.
I deserved to be loved by someone who was ready.. I didn't—I couldn't have someone who was just coming to terms with the word love.
I glanced at him with an expectant heart, waiting to hear something, some fucking argument or statement that would get me to believe in whatever he wanted but all I saw was confusion. Disappointment.
I ran a hand through my tangled locks of curls and jerked a head towards the front door. "Just go home, Silvio. We're over."
"Angel."
"Don't call me that." Warmth fluttered low in my belly when he grunted out a groan, his head hung lowly and a slow shake of his head. "Just.. go."
His voice was smooth, low and choked up with inner turmoil. "I'll do anything."
He nodded slowly, staring deep into my eyes and took another single step closer to me while I stepped back. Equally wanted and terrified of what his touch would do to me. "Tell me what you want me to do, baby. I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
He nodded with clear confirmation. "Anything."
"A divorce." With a shaky inhalation, I nodded. "I want a divorce, Silvio."