Baron

“Don’t walk out that fucking door, Red. Don’t turn your back on me.” Is he serious? I stop for a moment before continuing to leave. As the door closes, I hear a glass hit it. I sprint to the elevator with a river running down my face. I think it is finally time to go home to Canada. I just wish my heart felt it too.Chapter ThirteenBaronTwo Weeks LaterI knew the second she left that I had fucked up. And, fucked up big time. In my head I am going over every minute of every day that we were together. It’s still unbelievable that Frannie walked out the door and turned her back on me, on us. If you can imagine, I haven’t been dealing with it well. To be honest, I haven’t been dealing with anything very well. The past two weeks have felt like it’s been about two years at the very least.

I have tried to give her the space she thinks she needs, but enough is enough. I can’t sleep without her by my side. Even though her student visa expired days ago, I know she hasn’t left the country. Trent is still on her. I have asked him to keep his distance, but I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her because she is mad at me. What she is mad at me for I still don’t know, but it doesn’t mean that I am not protecting her.

At the moment, I am standing outside her door poised to knock when the door is wrenched open.

“Shit, Baron. You scared me,” Esther says clutching at her chest. Her keys jangle loudly as they fall to the floor. Quickly, I bend down and pick them up. Handing them to her, she doesn’t budge from the doorway.

“Sorry about that, Esther. Where is she?” I demand.

“If you think that I am letting you in here after the stunt you pulled-”

“Stunt? It wasn’t a stunt, Esther. I need to marry her. I love her.”

“Maybe you should tell her that instead of me.” Esther says her hands on her hips.

“I am trying too,” I say exasperated. Duke warned me that I’d need the best friend on my side if I am ever going to get anywhere.

“Not good enough,” she says, but then she cracks a smile.

“Let him in, Esther,” I hear my girl say from inside the apartment.

“I’m going out and won’t be back tonight. I hope you guys make up,” she says stepping back to allow me to pass. Then she’s out the door.

Walking into the apartment, I find her laying down on the couch. She is covered up with a blanket and watching Moulin Rouge. She hits pause and sits up.

“Hi, Baron. Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the couch.

“Hi, Red,” I respond, taking a seat on the couch.

“How have you been?” She asks.

“Not great. You?”

“Me either,” she admits as she is playing with the frayed edge of the blanket.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she says softly.

“Why are we doing this? I hate that you are not next to me in bed. When I reach for you, you aren’t there. I ache for you,” I tell her. “We don’t have to get married,” I lie.

“I recognize that you are trying to accommodate me, Baron. You’ve given me space. Space that I desperately needed. It makes me love you more. You don’t-”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask interrupting her.

“What? What did I say?” She asks.

“You just said that you love me. I need you to say it again,” I say barely hanging on to my sanity.

“I love you,” she says laughing,

“I love you too,” I tell her.

“You do?” she asks.

“Of course, I do. Where have you been? Have we not been in the same relationship?”

“I hoped, but I had no idea.”

“That’s probably my fault. In the foster home, I only had my brothers and we made a makeshift family. Then we were adopted, and for the first time I knew what love was. I purposefully closed myself off from any other kind of love to keep from getting hurt. You changed me in a way I didn’t expect. Thank you for loving me and letting me love you, Frannie.

She looks at me with unshed tears in her eyes. Her soft hand touches my cheek and I lean into it.

“Mon homme triste,” she says, climbing onto my lap and facing me. While I am brushing and moving my lips over hers, I remove the tears that have fallen by using my thumbs and gently sliding them from her face,

“What does that mean, Red?” I really have to learn French.

“My sad man,” she murmurs, kissing me again.

“I am not sad anymore,” I tell her as I am kissing her neck. She’s back in my arms, where she belongs.

“Good,” she says, throwing her head back. “Fuck, I missed you, Baron,” she tells me.