you want me to start?”
“From wherever you want.”
She nods, looking away for a second, as if she’s trying to gather her thoughts.
“I killed my Nancy.”
Holy shit. This wasn’t at all what I was expecting her to say, but as the tears well up in her eyes, her frame trembling hard, I want to walk toward her and hold her, but I know she doesn’t need that right now.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Tell me why you say that.”
“I…” she stutters, then clears her throat to start again. “After the shitshow at the police station, I knew everyone was looking for me, so I hid in some old building close to my ballet school. It was later that I decided to go back to your house and get Nancy because I thought she was in trouble.”
Ah shit. I see where this is going.
“But, I got home and your sweet, saintly mother was waiting for me. And she told me some things that messed me up.”
“Please, don’t ever call her that,” I grit out, and she almost gasps when she looks into my eyes only to be met by an icy coldness I can’t control. “What did she say to you?”
“She told me that her marriage to your father was a business deal,” she starts, staring at me like she’s fishing for something, some kind of acknowledgement of my knowledge to that shit.
“Yeah, I found out that too a few days ago, after you left.”
She breathes out deeply, then stands up straight.
“God, Julian, she tried to apologize about everything she did to me, everything she said, then she told me I reminded her of herself when she was my age.”
Fuck.
“How so?” I question, though it’s like shooting myself in the foot.
“I’m still not sure what she meant. It doesn’t make any sense to me but she did say that I was like her in that she was in love with John when John wasn’t in love with her at all, yet he married her because he had no choice in the matter.”
Fuck. I’m truly and utterly fucked. Do I tell her what dad told me? Do I tell her about my fucking future that I still don’t know how to correct and make right? But as I think that, Mia takes a step toward me, her eyes holding mine, demanding the truth.
Shit.
“She also told me that the whole marriage shit was part of the Fitzgerald legacy and there was no way out of it.”
I stare at her, my jaw locked and ticking. I clench and unclench my fists, trying my best to stay composed, when I can see the pain in her eyes.
“Did you know about that?” she whispers. I can literally hear her begging me to tell her what she wants to hear but what good would that do? If I had a guarantee that lying to her would really work in my favor, then I would tell her what she wants to hear. But I’m still an asshole.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I know.”
She gasps, tugging the sleeves of her shirt furiously, like a nervous tic she developed overnight.
“She also said that you…” she trails off, but then forces herself to continue. She said that you also have your own contract that’s ready. That you’re going to marry someone else.”
If someone busts through those doors and shoots me straight in my heart, it wouldn’t hurt me as much as the look on her face. I clench my jaw, not wanting to take that final step.
“Is it true, Julian?” she cries, tears glistening in her eyes, hugging herself as if to protect herself against me. “Answer me, damn you.”
“Yes… it’s true.”
Silence.
“Well then,” she whispers. “Anyway, let’s move on. She also told me…”
“Let’s move on?” I cut her off, feeling that anger coming back to bite me in the ass. How stupid was I to think that kissing her, holding her, seeing her at the very least, would tame that shit load of anger? “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Julian…” she starts, but I can’t just stand hear and listen to her dismiss this like that.
“You find out that there’s a fucked-up marriage contract with my name on it and some girl and all you have to say to that is, ‘well, then’?”
“What the hell do you expect me to say to that?” she cries. “I told you there is no you and me. This is never going to work. You were never mine.”
“What the hell? You’re saying that everything’s a done deal. Like