Cool air rushed through my brown hair and for a moment, my brain was freed from the frustrating thoughts it was enduring. The blinking red helicopter lights on the roof of the building adjacent to mine kept me from walking off the edge of my building and becoming a flesh pancake on the sidewalk.
"She hasn't said anything for the past two days," I heard Andrew whisper from the gray rooftop door behind me.
Footsteps followed his words, and before I knew it someone stood beside me. Chills ran up and down my spine as this stranger's fingertips brushed against the back of my hand.
"I think it's time for you to go back inside," familiar velvet lips voiced. My blue eyes fell upon Ethan's angelic face and chocolate curls.
A lump in my throat instantly formed, Ethan was here to comfort me even after all the pain I had caused when I chose Logan over him. I broke away from my cold composure and fell into his open arms, I wanted to cry and beg for forgiveness, but I remained still.
I knew Ethan would forgive me, because unlike Logan and I, Ethan’s kindhearted. He doesn’t care if a person is wearing Prada or not, he’ll be kind. That’s why I left him because I knew he was far too good for me.
Ethan’s soft hand cupped my cheek, slowly wiping away the tears I didn’t know my eyes had unleashed. I placed my hand over his comforting one.
“Did you mean it?” I asked.
“What?” He replied staring down at me.
“What you said about us going to Paris?”
“Yeah,” he responded with a confused expression plastered on his face.
I had to leave.
If I stayed here I would either have to witness my mother’s company be torn apart as investors and co-owners take as much as they can before it falls to bankruptcy, or marry a bachelor whose family holds a substantial amount of stocks in Clemenceau Designs.
“Is the invitation to late to accept?” I asked, hoping Ethan wouldn’t choose to be mean to me now even though he had every right to.
Still confused, Ethan replied, “No, it’s never too late. But I’m not sure why you would want to come with me when you can go alone.”
“You said we could be friends, remember?” I reminded. Ethan’s confusion remained intact.
“I need to leave. My mother's company's fate is in my hands. I have to marry the next eligible heir of the Wilson or Blake family," I explained. Ethan's confused face was replaced with surprise and worry.
After a short pause, he spoke, "Okay, well marry Logan. He's an heir to the Wilson family."
I sighed, exhausted of thinking about my dilemma. Logan was an heir to the Wilson family, but at the moment he was not eligible to marry, so my sole alternative was the Blake family's heir.
Andrew must have noticed my hesitation, so he voiced what I couldn't, "Logan's not eligible to marry at the moment, but the Blake heir is."
"Okay, so why doesn't she just marry the Blake heir?" Ethan questioned, staring down at me for an answer, but I remained silent.
Andrew sighed before saying, "The Blake heir is Justin."
There it was. My half-brother had finally voiced the solution to my future.
In order for me to save my mother's company, I, Chelsea Young, would have to marry Justin Blake, the boy who nearly choked me to death.
That's why I had to leave New York. That's why Paris was the only possible solution here. In Paris, I could personally take care of Clemenceau Designs from its headquarters.
"Why do you have to go to Paris now?" Ethan asked, unsure of why marrying Justin was a horrid idea.
"Because I have a two weeks to fully inherit the company or to reject my position as CEO," I explained.
"There's something you're not telling me," Ethan accused, releasing me from his embrace and taking a few steps back.
"Moving to Paris does mean I don't have to marry someone from the Blake or Wilson family, it however, doesn't mean I don't have to get marry. That part I must complete before I can fully take on my responsibilities at Clemenceau Designs," I revealed.
Ethan's face became a wave of various emotions: confusion. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Pity.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" he asked.
"Only as a friend. And after all I have put you through, I would have asked anyone else, but you're the--"
"Only person that would have said yes," Ethan concluded for me.
"Yeah," I shamefully admitted.
There was a long period of silence between Andrew, Ethan, and me. Ethan spent most of it staring down at Manhattan's late night traffic contemplating whether or not he should help me. After an hour or so, Ethan broke the silence with a heavy sigh and said, "Alright, I'll do it."
“Oh thank god,” I cried before I ran to embrace him.
“Well at least one of us is happy,” Ethan joked. I laughed and wiped away tears of joy, before kissing his cheek and muttering, “Thank you.”
Ethan pulled away before saying, “Don’t thank me. I would give you the world if it made you happy.”
We stood in silence staring at each other, before Andrew cleared his throat and said, “You need to go and tell dad you’re leaving Chelsea.”
I slowly tore my eyes away from Ethan’s and walked towards the rooftop door.
As the warmth of the building welcomed me back, I overheard Andrew whisper, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know why she picked Logan over you.”
The door slowly shut behind me, while the warm air engulfed my cold skin and melted my icy heart as Ethan replied, “Because she loves him, and I’m just a friend.”
YOU ARE READING
Monsters of Manhattan
Teen FictionPeople aren't called monsters because they paint rainbows and snowflakes. No, they're called monsters because they have a limitless ambition to achieve what they want and maintain what they have, and in Manhattan, what you want and what you have mig...
