A/N
I said I was going to update yesterday, but I fell asleep. I promised myself that I would update today, so I just wrote this before I could let my sleep consume me. So, here it is! Enjoy!
.............................................................
20:34PM
"What about Zack?" He knits his brows and looks at me.
I have a million options right now. Ok no. The truth is, I have about none. Yeah, I could change the subject and just say oh never mind, but that will only make him feel like I'm being too secretive and we'll get into another fight. I just want to make him happy and I don't want any secrets. He's friends with Zack. I want him to understand what Zack's like before it's too late.
I sigh and pause for a while.
"Zack's not who you think he is."
He nods softly, "ok..."
The same waiter that showed us here, places some food on our table. It seems like everything was preordered, but it's just warm soup. Light food is probably the best option since Matt and I just ate all those noodles.
I want to stall for as long as possible. I don't want to just talk about Zack. The smell of the soup flows into my nose. It smells so warm and delicious. Picking up my spoon, I eat some. The distinct taste reminds me of a warm cuddle. Unlike some soups I've tried, This one is thick and tasty. From across the table, his eyes scorch through me. It's obvious that I'm eating the soup to avoid answering the question and that doesn't float well with him. I hear him sigh. The sound comes out slightly strained and frustrated. Almost as if admitting temporary defeat, he picks up his spoon and starts eating as well.
Not long after however, he drops it and then resumes staring at me. His eyes are narrowed. Fierce. Searching for an answer.
The waiter places a baguette on the table and starts cutting it. Once he cuts about a quarter of it, Matt directs his eyes to the waiter and gives him the cold stare that was designated for me. Receiving the message, the waiter scrams away.
Slowly turning his head, Matt turns his attention back to me. I remain with my head down. I snatch a piece of the cut bread and enjoy it with the soup. In my peripheral vision, I see his hand clench the tablecloth. Finally, I pull my head up to face him.
"Are you going to continue?" Cold. His tone is so cold.
I swallow the piece of bread in my mouth and stop eating, "I can't let him win anymore. I can't keep lying to you."
"About what?" He says. He is obviously trying to hide his frustration.
"Zack. He's so cruel, Matt. I don't want you around him. You can't trust him. He lied to you—"
"When?" He snaps.
"When he told you all those things about me. When I was eavesdropping on our anniversary."
"God, I don't care about that!" He says exasperatedly.
"You don't care that he blackmailed me to make us break up?" I release.
Oh... It feels so good to let this all out.
He recoils slightly at the news. I watch him intently. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow, staring back at me like an archer pulling back the arrow, aiming at his target.
"Elaborate."
One word. He only has one word to say to that.
"When you left to find Jude, I was alone with him in his office. He knows about the photos."
"So he blackmailed you with them?"
I nod, "he knows my ex and they had a deal. Apparently, he wants me back but Zack said no."
"That's probably because he's a good person."
I scoff, "Matt please. He only did it so he could have leverage. Now that he did that for me, I would owe him. He wanted me to break up with you in return."
He slams on the stable and stands. It's like his signature move now.
"And you did it! Just like that? Am I nothing to you?"
I do the exact same thing and mirror him physically, as well as channeling all that anger back at him. "Of course you mean something to me! I told him no! And you wanna know what your best friend did? He said he'd use those pictures against me. He'd leak them! Send them to businesses, to you, to my family, to my father..."
He shakes his head and walks further back down the terrace.
"Liar." He breathes.
"Me?"
He turns around and points his index finger at me. "Yes you! Liar! Zack is one of my oldest friends. He knows that would look bad on me too! He wouldn't do that."
I walk to him and push his finger away.
"Like I said, he's not what you think he is."
"So what now? We're back together, so what will he do with the photos?"
I actually hadn't thought about that.
"Look, my main issue is my father. I need to make him understand." I sigh.
"Do you wanna go now?" He slips his arms around me.
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all. Let's go." He pulls on my hand and leads me down the stairs.
Passing our waiter, he slips a few notes in his pocket. We're hit by a cool breeze as we open the door and leave the restaurant. He quickly opens the car door for me and I get in. He drives focused, as usual. So intense. Such power, authority. The way his hands are clenched so fiercely on the steering wheel. So graceful. He is everything.
"I don't think he'll leak the photos." I mutter almost to myself.
"Why not?" His tone is level and low.
"Because his deal was to stop Todd from getting to me."
"So you think Todd'll come back?" He asks and glances at me.
I put my head down and fiddle with my dress. "He already did."
Matt slams on the brakes as he pulls over. "What? When?"
"You didn't shoot Ace. You shot Todd. He dyed his hair, cut his hair, wore contacts and lost weight. He also hid his tattoos."
"Well he got what he deserved." He mutters under his breath.
I look at him intently again. His eyes are fixed on the road again. They're narrowed. A hard glare taunts the road ahead. His jaw is clenched, but not with anger. Both hands are on the wheel. They tense and relax frequently. His posture is erect with such form, but he still seems relaxed. He drops one hand. He isn't angry. He's very much satisfied. To prove me right, the corner of his thick lips curve upwards into a smug smirk; amused, as if he's pleased with something.
"You killed him, didn't you?" I breathe.
His eyes stay on the road.
Sudden realisation hits me.
"You always say you'd kill for me, Matt. Todd tried to rape me. I've seen you. On a bad day, I've seen you get so angry when a guy just looks at me. You stare at them with death. Murder within your cornea. He touched me. He had his hands all over me. He groped my breasts and was going to kiss them. He was going to rape me. For a man with a temper like yours and a protective, possessive mentality like yours..." I take a deep breath, "this would be the perfect time to kill."
"No it wouldn't." He counters immediately. "The most important part in murder is getting away with it. I was alone in a room with him. People saw me beforehand and they all noticed I was agitated. I was looking for him. I walk in and I see him on top of my girl, touching her. She leaves and it's just me and him. I leave shortly afterward and he dies the same day, supposedly. Who else would it have been? All signs point to me, Lisette. It's incredibly obvious. I didn't kill him."
I puff out a breath. He's actually making sense. Thank God. I sigh with relief. I'm so happy he didn't kill—
"Yet." He adds.
"What?"
He laughs, "I'm kidding, Lisette."
I narrow my eyes at him as I stare at him, evaluating and examining.
He parks the car, "we're here."
As usual, he helps me out of the car and swings his arm around my waist. His delicious scent has my mouth watering, craving him. When we get in the lift, my head snaps up to his and I take the pleasure in staring at my hunk of man. The corner of his lips jolts up and he looks down at me. He kisses my lips so sweetly. I tremble at his touch. The doors ding open and we step out of the lift.
"Are you cold?" He asks stroking my shoulders.
I shake my head, but he still takes his jacket off and puts it on me. I smile and he kisses both my cheeks. He knocks me right into his body and hugs me tightly, as if warming me up. Pulling back, he kisses my head and we walk in to see our father.
He's lying on the bed with my mother holding his hand. His smile is sweet and his gaze is passionate. After all these years, he's still madly in love with her and vice versa.
"My daffodil, what brings you here?" My father smiles, but it only just reached his eyes.
I stand by his bed, "I have something important to tell you."
His smile starts to fade away. It kills that I was the one that did that to him.
"What is it?" He frowns.
I can't do this. He is a sick, dying man. How can I tell him—
"Lisette..." I hear Matt voice and feel him take my hand in his.
Turning my head, I see his sweet lime eyes. They're soothing mine with compassion and love. The support nourishes me with courage. He is my strength.
"When I was sixteen, I started dating this guy," I begin, "and he was a little older than me—"
Matt clears his throat next to me and squeezes my hand. Without any words, he's trying to say no sugarcoating.
I nod and accept my faults. This has to be the truth. The whole truth.
"He was a lot older than me. Since he was a grown man, he obviously had his... Needs and desires, as you used to say," I swallow, but I don't let my nerves stop me. "He pressured me to have sex with him. He always used to say it was what he needed and what every man needs."
"So you're telling me you slept with an older man when you were sixteen?" My dad concludes.
"No. Papa, let me finish." I sigh. "One night we were at his place and we were kissing. He made a move and I didn't like it; I told him no. He got a little mad and we had a fight. He hit me with something and I was knocked out. When I woke up..." My voice catches.
Matt pulls me to him and kisses my head. He hugs me and pulls me into his chest before my father can see me cry.
"My daffodil..." I hear his voice crack.
"Dad," Matt starts, "she woke up naked in a bathtub. He had taken numerous pictures of her naked. As far as she knows, he didn't penetrate her, but the pictures got out. He shared them with people at work, which led to some horrible letters to Lisette, your daffodil. She got through it all, but barely. Now, she's being threatened with the photos and she wanted to tell you before..."
"I die." My father finishes. "Lisette." He calls.
I shuffle away from Matt, but he knows better than to let go of me completely. He still keeps me close to him.
"Yes papa?"
"Why didn't you tell your mother and I?" He whispers calmly.
This is not how I thought he'd react.
"I thought you'd be ashamed of me and you'd disown me like you did Claire."
He shakes his head and turns away, "this wasn't your fault and you had to suffer in silence. I will never forgive myself."
I notice my mother hasn't said anything. They both just look away. They aren't ashamed of me, they're ashamed of themselves.
I hug my parents so tightly, "non papa et maman!" I exclaim, "it wasn't your fault." I breathe.
I pull back to look at them both.
"Everything I've done, was for you three." My father breathes shakily.
His eyes grow watery and his voice trembles. I have never seen my father cry. As if responding to his pain, I feel my eyes sting again. Feeling what I feel, Matt holds me, this time an exchange of strength takes place. Give and take.
"I have failed!" My father exclaims.
"No you haven't!"
"We have." My mother mutters.
"No! You have been the best parents! I love you both so much. We all do! Even Matt loves you both like you're his own, blooded parents!"
They both shake their heads and look down, disappointed.
"It's true. You've both given me a family again. And you gave me the love of my life. I love you both."
"My own daughter hates me." Dad mutters.
"What?" I say holding his arm.
"Claire. She hates me. That was last thing she said, all those years ago."
"She doesn't." I say. "We were talking about you both when we were watching movies. We both wanted to come down here to visit you. She wanted to apologise because she regrets everything she said and did. She loved you both."
"Why are you referring to her in past tense?" Dad asks. "Is she dead?"
"No! I just... I don't know."
"But you think she is."
"I'm prepared for the worst. But I hope and pray she isn't." I admit.
"Come here." He reaches his arm out for me.
I inch forward to grab it and I hold onto it with both of my hands. I pull Matt closer to me and he rests slightly behind me, comforting my mother.
"Yes papa?"
He sighs, "when they find my little bumblebee, tell her..." He closes his eyes and winces, coming to grips with the fact that he probably won't even be alive when we find Claire. "Tell her that I'm proud of her. I've always been proud of her. She is my little girl and—" he lets out a small sob, "I'm sorry I was too hard on her. Tell her I'm sorry for failing her, for disappointing her, for not being good enough for her. Tell her she's always been on my mind. Tell her I've always waited for her to call, or text, just for her to come home. Tell her that I love her. I love her so much! We both do!" He breaks down in front of us.
Never in my life, have I seen my father cry. I cannot help but find myself feeling his pain and crying along with him. Matt is first to embrace him, calming him. I grab my mother's hands and we join the embrace.
"Tell Denny he's the best son a father could ask for. Tell Alice thanks for looking after my son and carrying his child. Tell my grandson—" his painful sobs cause him to wheeze and we all loosen the hug, but we don't break the contact. "Tell him I'm sorry I couldn't hold him when he was born. I'm sorry I couldn't take him fishing like I did with his father when he was a little boy. Tell him I love him. I love him so much! I love them all. I love you all."
Oh Jesus make this stop!
His breathing is so shallow. He's hyperventilating. We pull back away from the hug, but he pulls us back. Family is more important right now. I hear my mother's sobs beside me. I hear Matt's muffled cries as his face is buried in my father's hair. He's holding him the hardest. My Matt has to lose a father twice. A father that he loved so much like his own.
The sound of deep muttering captures my ear. I'm drawn to it. The voice and tone is so familiar. It's Matt. The words are gentle. They're caring. So humble like a hymn. The words register and I realise what is being said. It's a prayer. He's praying. Matt never prays and he's praying for my father's life. To heal his pain. I have never loved him more than I do now.
We all pick up on Matt's words and we all pray together, holding my father up, begging to save him as he shivers in the eye of the hurricane.
We all go in the end, but can't he just have a little longer. Please?