Bridgerton Imagines

The Heart Wants What It Wants // A.B. [BLURB]

Years Ago:

"This isn't working out," The Viscount states when he enters the room, gesturing between you both.

You snort. "You could say that again. I told you from the beginning that you shouldn't marry her."

"Not me and Lady Simmons. Me and you."

"What?" You ask, taking the blow as best you can.

"You've been nothing but rude to Lady Simmons since I declared my intentions, making comments behind her back and glaring at her when you think she doesn't see."

"She isn't right for you, Anthony!" You cry, feeling the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. "She's after your money. She doesn't love you for who you are. She wants your title and nothing more."

Anthony staggers back a step. "I never expected this from you," He whispers, his tone displaying his hurt. "I thought you would always be on my side."

"Not when your intended is going to do more harm than good."

"What an awful thing to say."

"I won't apologise for stating the truth, Anthony."

"Then I won't stay to beg for one."

"If you walk out of that door, do not come back," You hiss, doing your best to keep your sobs at bay as you glare at Anthony Bridgerton.

"I have no plans to," He spits, hand on the door handle.

One last look is shared between you both; the hate in the room palpable, but underneath the rage and the upset simmered a love that ran so deep it was practically moulded to your very being.

Anthony hesitates for a single moment; questioning everything he's ever known, but ultimately common sense is thrown out of the window as Anthony leaves the room, resolutely refusing to look back.

As the door clicks shut behind Anthony, you sink to the floor, heart wrenching sobs falling from your lips. You bring a shaking hand to your chest, pressing it firmly against yourself as if the touch alone would keep you from breaking apart. What was the point? You wanted to scream, you had been smashed to pieces by the very man who had promised to never hurt you.

Futile, pointless, useless.

As the tears continued to flow, your heart broke in your chest. You were sure; you were sure that he felt the same as you, that he loved you as much as you loved him. As you laid on the carpeted floor, you felt the keen sting of unrequited love, hoping never to feel it again.

Now:

Anthony stares up at the white door, his hands shaking slightly as he radios himself to confront the friend he had been missing for years. He hadn't wanted to wait this long; had wanted to run to you the moment his relationship broke down, but the words exchanged that day were so poisonous he was certain you would never forgive him.

So he stayed away. Heard of you from other sources; kept track of you and your wellbeing all through word of mouth.

It was painful, but necessary. His conscious wouldn't let him sleep if not.

Now, years later, he stands at your door, hoping and praying you would let him in.

A Butler answers the door after he knocks three times, and he is lead to the drawing room decorated in creams and golds. Anthony cannot help the shock that runs through his body when finds you in the room, dressed to the nines and a small smile on your face.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," You state, pouring out two cups of tea and offering Anthony a biscuit.

"You waited for me." Anthony states plainly, stating the obvious with an emotion you can't decipher in his voice.

"Of course I waited for you," You sigh, smoothing out your skirts. "How long did it take to see sense?"

Anthony frowns and you hate the sight of it on his face. "A month into the courtship."

You nod your head; refusing to point out that you had warned him of such events taking place. You remain silent, picking an invisible thread on your skirts.

"It was my mother," Anthony exclaims, breaking the awkward silence between you both, "She made me see what was happening and urged me to break it off before I bankrupted the whole family."

"Violet Bridgerton is a wise woman," You smile, thinking of the Bridgerton matriarch with the familiar ache of grief in your chest whenever you thought of a member of Anthony's family.

"Yes," Anthony murmurs, "She is. So are you."

You raise an eyebrow in question. Anthony continues to speak, "You warned me and I refused to see it. Instead, I let Lady Simmons control my actions and it led to that awful day. I'm sorry."

"You need not apologise, Anthony. I forgave you long ago."

"You did?" He asks, shocked at your words.

"I did. I didn't want to hold onto the anger; it was beginning to taint my happy memories of you."

Something inside of Anthony's chest cracks at your words; he came here expecting hostility and upset, but instead, he finds you amiable and willing to forgive. It's then that Anthony realises he's been an arse about the whole thing.

"I ended things after a month," He begins. "It took another two months for me to confront my feelings for you, why I reacted the way that I did. I suppose on that day I had hoped that my declaring my intentions would force you to confess what I hoped you felt for me."

"What did you hope I felt?"

"That you loved me as I loved you."

"You broke my heart, Anthony. Shattered it to pieces right in front of my very eyes."

"I know, and somehow you've forgiven me."

"Because I never could stop loving you. Months, years, I tried not to think of you and not to wonder whether you would eventually find your way back to my door. But the heart wants what it wants, and mine has decided that it wants you."

"It does?"

"It does. It hasn't changed after all these years."

Anthony closes his eyes at your words, sitting back in his chair as the words settle over his skin, putting to rest any lingering fears he had over today. In his mind, he could see it all play out - his future, the only one he has ever wanted and it's always going to be with you.

The heart wants what it wants, and his belongs to you.