Nice Day For A White Wedding

Tonight has been another night he didn’t show up. He never once called to see how the business was running.

I sigh as I let myself into my home. It’s been a long night at work, made longer by my constant checking of the CCTV screens for Alex. I feel exhausted. I know I look like shit too. My brain tells me I have to let this crap go. I have to stop thinking about Alex. Stop hoping I’ll see him and just move on with my life. But my heart won’t let go. Damn him. He really did a fucking number on me.

I lock my front door and shrug out of my coat. Then I kick my shoes off tiredly and head into the lounge. I am instantly on high alert when I see that one of my lamps is on. I didn’t put that on. The high alert turns to spine tingling fear when a man stands up from my couch.

“Hello, Cindy.”

The fear turns to uncontrollable fury. The man is Alex.

“Did you miss me?” he asks softly.

“Did I miss you? Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout hysterically. “How the fuck did you get into my house?”

I take a step towards him and the hurt and the longing and the pain all turns into an all-encompassing, inexplicable rage when I see that Alex’s smile has its usual effect on my body. My body wants him to fuck me. I scream then, a sound of total frustration, incomprehension, and pain as I launch myself at him, my fists flying. Alex sees my attack coming and he catches hold of my wrists easily. He holds me out at arm’s length so my kicking feet can’t connect with him. Then he just watches me calmly as I scream and shout and try to twist my way free.

Eventually, I use up all of my anger and I just stand there, my chest heaving with the exertion of it all.

“Are you done?” he asks softly.

I nod miserably and he releases my wrists. I debate going for him again, but the anger is gone and I’m just bone-tired. The truth is I’m tired of feeling this way and I just want him out of my life. I’ll hear him out, get the closure I need, and then I’ll resign and start over. Somewhere else. He can have his damn fifty percent back. I don’t want it.

I sink down heavily on the couch and Alex sits beside me. One thing is really bothering me more than anything and I repeat my earlier question, although without the fiery anger this time.

“How did you get in here?” I say again.

“You keep a spare key in your locker at work,” he says, as though it’s perfectly acceptable for him to help himself to that key and use it to come into my house without permission.

This should anger me further, but it doesn’t. I just accept it. I’m done raging.

“I’m sorry. I would never have used it, but the conversation we’re about to have isn’t one I was willing to have at the casino and I didn’t think you’d let me in if I just knocked on your door like a sane person.”

A ghost of a smile curves my lips. I really have missed him, although there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that.

“Yeah, you bet I wouldn’t have,” I agree.

“I caused you pain, Cindy, and I’m truly sorry for that. I won’t blame you if you tell me to get out and never come back. But I won’t leave until after I’ve explained everything to you. I owe you that and I need you to hear it. And then if you still want me to leave, I’ll go.”

“Whatever,” I shrug tiredly. “Let’s hear the next batch of lies you’ve cooked up.”

“I’ve never lied to you. The only time I was less than transparent, the only thing I am guilty of is when I let you believe what Petra said was true and, I think you’ll at least understand why I had to do what I did when I explain.”

“What?” I whisper in shock.

“It’s true. Everything I said about wanting to make Babushka happy was true. She really does want me to find someone and be happy with her and I wanted to give her that before she left this earth. And until Petra interfered you made her really happy, you saw for yourself how happy she was to think I’d found the one. It was never about anything else. Here’s something else interesting for you to know. I am the rightful and the only heir to the Obolensky fortune. The titles only passed to Babushka because my father died and she was the next in line. After her death, I am the next in line, but I am not interested in her house or her money. I have my own money, more than I need, and until I saw how truly beautiful Winter House was through your eyes I never wanted it, or had any intention of going to live there.”