Foolishly Falling for You

8

Lance

This is a jarring experience. I'm...confused. I follow her.

And she, throwing her hands up in exasperation opens the door. "I'm going to say something and it's not true anymore I'm doing it to prove a point."

I nod and wait.

"I love you," she says blankly looking me in my eyes. This is my moment, to salvage this entire wreck.

"As do I," I smile back tightly.

"You're talking about yourself aren't you?"

I chuckle, adjusting my cuff link.

"You laugh when you're nervous," she points out.

I shake my head chuckle. "I don't do that," I laugh.

"You do. You do, do that. You're just not easily nervous. I knew you'd do that. Try to fix this by lying in a way that isn't lying. I bet you don't know what I'm going to do though."

I lick my lips and smile tightly as she slams the door in my face.

"Okay, well that was obvious!" I shout.

I narrow my eyes. I don't know her that's absurd! I've spent that last two decades avoiding her, and to avoid her I had to know her. I open the door and she rolls her eyes, her nose in that forsaken book again.

"What could you possibly Want from me? I know you're in love with yourself but I thought that would be enough? Must I suffer you too?"

Suffer? Now she's suffering me? I scoff. "I will have you know Mrs. Mendoza, that I have shown my appreciation for you in many ways."

"Yes just none that I asked for. And that's fine. This is an argument we do not have to have. I no longer love you. And you, never loved me. Pray, why do you bother me so?"

I frown deeply. Yes...why?

"I...I don't know. It just seems wrong," I whisper. "You say I have not changed and now...you longer like the man you've loved for so long. Why?"

She heaves a heavy sigh, her curly hair fanned out on the sheets her back against the black comforter, her eyes on the window. She is always looking out the window or at book.

Always escaping these days.

"Why would I keep doing something as useless as loving you? Have you ever been grateful for my love? Have you ever returned it? You say you cannot stand my intensity. Now I have none. Still you vex me."

I edge closer. "What is the kind of man you love now?" I pick up her book. She protests but I hold it out of her reach, my eyes scanning the page. "A man with sonnets and flowers and exaggerated promises of the moon? That's where you heart lies?"

She stands on the bed, yanking the book from her hand, clutching it to her heaving chest, her eyes burning with disdain.

"No matter where my heart lies it will never lie with you again."

I narrow my eyes. "Because I am not that man? Now you no longer love me, though I have never been him? I didn't know your love was fickle."

"I didn't know your attentions were so bothersome. I would've never asked for it if I had." She shoots back.

I have never seen this side of her. She is so...angry. And bitter. Resentful. She has a word for every word I say, a fiesty and cutting rebuttal.

"If you do not love me; who do you love? Who are you speaking to who are you with? This is all too sudden," I narrow my eyes. She must have a lover. That's where this is coming from, it has to be.

She's becoming so frustrated with me. Her eyes are swelling with tears.

"I wish I never married such a pitiful man. I had everything. The daughter of a Duke, my whole life in front of me I had dozens of suitors—"

"Dozens," I repeat with a sneer.

"Yes," her voice dips with tears, as she steps forward the bed dipping as she does. "Dozens! I had my pick. I should've married Brandon now he would've been nice to me—!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, so you wanted to marry Brandon!"

"He was the son of a count—" she yells.

"He is the son of a harlot!" I shout back, "He spends his time in the pubs and brothels to this day and you think you would've been happier with Brandon—"

"Brandon was nice to me—"
"Brandon wanted to fuck you!"
"...maybe he still does."

I swallow roughly and raise my brows with a scoff. "Well...I doubt you will be with happy with him. In fact, I doubt you will contract anything except a veneral disease with that man, but if that's what you want."

"I want you to leave me alone. I am doing what you ask."

"This is not what I asked."

"You are the most selfish, stuck up, arrogant—"

I roll my eyes. "Here we go. Can we just...let's just skip this part and let's get to the part where you tell me everything is my fault."

She shook her head, holding it gingerly. "No...you are what you have always been. A child in a man's body who simply wants everything his way. This is my fault. I pursed you. I chose you. I begged for this marriage. It's my fault."

"...our marriage is a fault now?" I ask.

She looks me in my eyes. "Our marriage was a fault from the very beginning. This union is cursed. And I wash my hands of it."

I blink, and clench my jaw, swallowing bile. "Well...you may wash your hands, Anita, but you wash them with a ring on your finger. So remember that, when you run into Brandon."

I stalk away, slamming the door behind me. That woman...is absolutely a demon from hell sent to torture me. I'm sure of it. Whether she loves or hates me...she vexes me either way.