Surrender

chapter 22

Chapter 22

Dressed in a baggy tee shirt and sweats that were rolled up at her ankles, she sat at the dining table, cradling her cup of tea. Chris sat down across from her, his elbows resting against the mahogany table's smooth surface. Head hanging low, he studied the bottom of his mug. A drop of water trickled down her temple from the damp hair tumbling down her back in waves. She watched the evening storm turn dusk into the black of night against the floor-to-ceiling window pane. She was grateful that the width of the table was substantial enough to keep her out of his reach, away from his touch that could erase the pain in her chest in a heartbeat if she let him.

            "Were you ever planning on telling me?" Her voice was only a whisper, but she heard its acid-like tone ring in the quiet.

            His dark head of disheveled hair snapped up. His unfaltering eyes met hers. "Yes," he said too quickly. "I tried so many times, but they were never the right time."

            "How about the night we met?" she offered bitterly. "Or when I invited you into my home and my life? Or when I told you I loved you? Or when I threw myself at you and spent the night in your bed?" Crimson anger penetrated the surface of her cheeks. "I gave you every part of me."

            "Sophie," he started, extending his hand across the table, urging her to meet him halfway, to try to make her understand why he'd kept his identity a secret from her. "You know things about me that I've never told anyone. You know the real me. Isn't that enough? Isn't that all that should matter?" Pain echoed in the tone of his deep voice.

            "You're in business with my sister and you never thought to mention it to me? I ruined her photo shoot. This was supposed to be a turning point in her career. She will never forgive me for this--and I can't blame her!" she exclaimed and rose from the table.

            He looked her in the eye and said, "I didn't know that Angie was the designer of the Free Wings clothing line, I swear. The contracts were arranged by my manager. I never met her in person until today."

            She crossed her arms and shook her head. "And what was up with Ivy Clarke hanging all over you?" A jealous rage heated her insides. "Do you have a different girl in every city? Is that the kind of game you play?"

            He shook his head, a look of defeat dominating his broad shoulders. "I ended things with Ivy months before you and I met. I only have feelings for you." He rose from his chair and met her by the window. He reached out and took her hand, his touch as light as a paper airplane gliding through the air. "Do you really think you would have gotten to know me, the real me, if you had known about my career, about how the tabloids portray me? Because that's not me. This is the real me." He tightened his hand around hers. "When I'm with you."

            "Don't even go there." She tore away from his grasp and backed away. "You never gave me the chance. Now we'll never know. And don't turn this around on me. I told you everything about my life. About ballet. About Sammy." She paused to regain her composure and swallowed the cumbersome lump in her throat before she continued, "I gave you my heart, and you stomped and spat on it."

            He sighed deeply and said, "I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you."

            "How can I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?" she shot back.

            He took her stiff, unyielding hand once more and placed it against his chest. She could feel the warmth radiating from beneath his shirt. The longer he held her hand against his chest, the faster she found herself slipping back under his charm, back into the realm in which she didn't doubt his love for a single instance.

            "Trust this, Sophie," he said. "Trust that my heart beats only for you."

            She tore her eyes from his, but was unable to escape the lively heat that enveloped her and paralyzed her limbs into place.

            "I know what I did was wrong," he continued, remorse thick on his tongue. "But you can't blame me for falling in love with you. I can't control that, and I don't regret a single moment spent with you. Every conversation, every touch, every kiss we shared… Waking up to find you next to me in the morning. I don't regret any of it."

            She shook her head and pulled away, turning her back to him as she faced the dreary and stormy skyline through the windowpane. "Everything we had was a lie."

            He opened his mouth to refute it, but she stopped him. "Don't," she said softly and licked her dry lips. "It's time for me to go." He'd told her that it was too dangerous for her leave to the apartment because of the sea of crazed fans surrounding his building. But she was certain that the raging evening storm had driven them away. And yet he busied himself with trying to convince her to stay. She knew she had to leave. The magic of their supposed love had been tarnished, and there was no rescuing it from the damage that had been done. The only thing that was left to do was to leave and never look back.

            Wordless, she walked to the bathroom and slipped back into her dress that had spent an adequate amount of time in the washer and dryer. Still, the blueberry stain had clung to the dress like the lingering pain in her chest. She placed his folded set of borrowed clothes on the arm of the leather couch in the living room and unclasped the firefly necklace from her neck. She released the necklace from her grasp and let it fall on top of the folded shirt. She looked up to find him with a furrowed brow and a tight jaw. She could feel the depth and intensity of the unspoken words that he held back at her expense. She backed away with heavy feet until her hand reached the doorknob. She turned the lock and held the door open. With his hands buried in his pockets, he stared into her eyes with the force of a blazing wildfire. If she stayed any longer, she knew she would get burned.  

            When she finally found her voice, she uttered, "Goodbye, Chris."