UNEDITED
When Leon Saint-Laurent receives a wedding invitation in the mail, he soon realizes nothing's fair in love and life.
****
Eliza is set on marrying James. She wants to step into a new chapter of her life. One where she can forget the past a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Leon
As frustrated as I am with Liz, I can't seem to resist the opportunity to spend time with her. It feels like I'm lost in a haze while I listen to her explain the drama during dinner. Nothing has changed with her parents, and James is the biggest asshole I've ever met. He refuses to support Liz. His ego proves he's unqualified to marry her. She deserves someone who will hold her hand and steep some tea when she's upset. Not some vindictive jerk who cares more about the opinions of her parents.
I glance at the counter space across from the raised bar. A glass, bear-shaped cookie jar stares at me from beside the stove as Liz continues to speak. She's moved on from discussing drama and is now combing through memories. So far, she's mentioned us picking stonecrop and planting it, spending time at the diner, and us wanting to go to Colombia. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and squint at the cookie jar. It seems out of place; it doesn't match the theme of the kitchen. Kind of like my presence doesn't match the theme of Liz's wedding. What good am I doing by being here? The more I think about it, the more I question my actions. Despite hearing Liz say she needs to decide, and she's in love with two men, I can't help but wonder if what I'm doing is morally acceptable.
My fingers shouldn't be caressing the bare skin of her thigh. I shouldn't be encouraging her to reminisce over our shared memories.
The smell of damp earth fills my nostrils as a chilly breeze sweeps through the open window. Liz snuggles closer to me. Her head is resting against my shoulder, and all I've been breathing in for the past hour is her peach-scented shampoo. Her sweetness is addictive, which is why the breeze is a relief. I'm stuck in a consistent daze with Liz this close to me.
"Do you remember that night by Saint-Sangster Rock?" she murmurs.
Blood pounds in my temples, as it does whenever I remember that night. It's impossible to forget. I clear my throat and push away my lukewarm cup of tea. "I do," I rasp. The heat flushing down my neck is almost as abrasive as her peach-scented shampoo. Sometimes, I fantasize about that night, wishing I could travel back in time to relive it. I loved the way Liz cried out my name when she came undone. I loved the feel of her body moving against mine, driven by passion and love.
She entangles her fingers with mine and caresses the back of my hand. "I wish we could go back to that night, when life was easier..." She trails off and mumbles incoherent words as an afterthought.
Her voice is so low I'm uncertain of what I heard. Just like I'm uncertain of this situation. It's clear she loves James and I. What's unclear is who she wants more. She's upset with James, but how long will her anger last? Until tomorrow morning, when he pulls her aside and apologizes for acting like a jerk? Or will it be the night of their wedding, when she's dressed in white and has completed her vows? The waiting game is becoming tiresome. I understand how difficult the decision is, but being here and waiting for Liz to decide isn't helping me. Despite my willingness to fight for her, I still have a life outside of Whistler. A life I need to live be it with or without the love of my life.
