The Scheme

Evangeline had predicted that my mama would remarry. It was the second to last prediction. The last was my prediction, the one which had led me to James, the man who’d given me the moon, the man I was supposed to live my happily-ever-after with.

My insides suddenly crumbled as the reality of it all slapped me in the face. Hot tears coursed down my cheeks, and I gulped down small breaths to minimize my cries. This was it, the finality of it all.

There was what I wanted in life, and then there was fate. It was as though fate was laughing in my face, telling me that my life was already predestined to follow a certain path. This final prediction foretold the guy to give me the moon, and that he would set me free. Brian was never it. He was never supposed to be.

My hands trembled at my side, hating this, hating Evangeline. I had once thought her predictions were a blessing which used to give me hope and peace, knowing the outcome of my life. Now, those predictions were my own living curse.

I stared at the handsome man sleeping soundly beside me, and closed my eyes to stop the tears from falling.

And then I saw him.

Cole.

Behind the darkness.

I would never be free of him.

My hands began to sweat as a nervous, gut-wrenching sensation came over me, and I suddenly felt the walls were closing in, a feeling of claustrophobia hitting me.

I needed fresh air.

I needed to leave.

Now.

I pushed myself off the bed, careful not to wake him. Then I reached for my clothes and slipped them on. Turning, I risked one more glance at his beautiful face, taking in the features I’d memorized over the weeks we’d spent together.

God, was he gorgeous, but even more beautiful on the inside than he was on the outside. Who’d have thought I would fall for Brian? It was a mystery, even to me.

But then, it’s not such a huge surprise. Nice guys are the best ones. The ones you fall for, the ones you marry.

At that thought, the tears started anew. I had to get out of here. I didn’t know if it was because I was in close proximity to Brian or if I was losing control of this life, that had already been pla

As I tiptoed out of his room, a heavy sadness washed over me.

Bending down, I planted a kiss on his cheek as my vision blurred from my tears. I rubbed the heel of my palm against my chest and used all my strength to keep myself upright as sobs wracked my body.

“Goodbye, Brian.” My voice quivered as I spoke, while my world bottomed out and despair swallowed me whole.

I awarded myself one last look then turned to leave.

This was it.

The end.

***

I rushed into my apartment and jumped into bed, desperate for the comfort and normalcy of my own place—the scent of citrus candles in my apartment, the softness of my down pillows, and the comfort of my own mattress.

But even in my own home, my thoughts were occupied by the man I had left soundly sleeping in his bed.

The thoughts of Brian were overwhelming me. Though he wasn’t here, his presence still lingered.

My eyes focused on my couch that we’d made love, the kitchen where he’d attempted to make me an upgraded version of my mama’s hot cocoa, just because it reminded me of home, and the empty bottle of wine he’d brought before our date.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth, and stared at the phone by my foot, knowing I had to call my mother. But I couldn’t. Not now.

Picking up the phone, I chucked it off the bed and it fell onto my hardwood floor. I clenched my eyes tightly, wishing I would see anything other than Cole.

When I had caught him cheating on me, I knew it was over, that I needed to break up with his ass, and move the hell on. So I’d showed up to his place. I’d wanted to show I was mature and properly break up with him, as I would’ve liked someone to break up with me.

Cole wouldn’t have it. He’d torn his room apart in the process of trying to explain to me that nothing had happened. When I’d tried to leave, he’d pulled me to him and kissed me hard.

“Tell me you don’t feel that,” he had said.

I had shoved him off with both hands.

At one time, I’d felt every touch, every kiss from Cole, but not anymore.

“No,” I had replied, only disgusted by his behavior.

Cole was immortal. I had put him on a pedestal, enamored at the fact that he’d picked me. But that night, all I could see was Clary and him together every time I closed my eyes, and I knew I would never get over that.

“Bye, Cole.” I had turned to leave, finally done with him and ready to move past my heartache.

He’d reached for me, tugged me toward him, and kissed me hard again. Then he reached to cup the front of my pants with his hand. Pulling back, I saw anger and darkness in his eyes. Chills shook my body and dread filled my veins.

“This is fucking mine,” he’d growled. “No one else’s.”

My throat closed up as my mind regressed back to the day he’d raped me. The restraint, the suffocation, and the overall feeling of being powerless to someone I had once loved and trusted. I’d seen his violent side when he’d been in fights before, but never once had he unleashed it on me. . . . until that night.

That night, I had fought like my life depended on it as he forced himself inside me, taking away my power to choose. He’d broken me that night. Seven years later, I was still broken. Just a shell of my former self, unable to hold a real relationship, unable to feel anything other than the sensation of sex when I was physically with any man.

Then came Brian. He was everywhere, bringing back memories of Cole, because I felt everything with Brian. Somehow he had torn through the barriers I’d spent years building up. When I was with him, I felt every single touch, every kiss . . . everything. As if, when Brian touched me, he was reaching into my soul, breaking away all my insecurities, making me feel somewhat whole.

These past few weeks, I’d caught a glimpse of how it could be with Brian. My future, free from my past. But tonight, the dream vanished after hearing of my mother’s engagement. It was as if I was predestined to follow a path, and if I veered from this path, the consequence would be my happiness.

My comfort had always been in this future, which had been foretold to me. That had been my semblance of control since I was sixteen, since Evangeline had given me the reality to stop wishing for my father to come home and what she had predicted about me . . . about my future and about my happiness.

And then came Brian, and I felt okay just by being with him, but being with him meant I had to let go of my past and let go of the predictions. Just let go.

Tremors shook my body, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t because I was afraid, so very afraid of the unknown, of letting go. Being in love meant you let someone else take the driver’s seat, and the only time I’d been in love, the driver drove us off the cliff, crashed us, and obliterated the carefree girl that I once knew.

I swiped at my face, threw the comforter to the side, and cried a goddamn river into the sleeve of my shirt. “Stop!” I screamed at myself, pushing my palms against my eyelids. But the more I willed myself not to cry, the more tears fell down my cheeks.

I shook my head and stood, biting my cheek and loving the pain. Maybe the physical pain would make the tears go away, or at least change their purpose. “Stop!” I said, pinching the inside of my wrist. “Stop crying over that fucker!”