MVP (VIP Book 3) (5 page)

She did.

I’m a fucking bastard.

When I was thoroughly done stabbing her, I made sure to throw her heart right back in her face. Except that time, it wasn’t whole like it originally was…there were open wounds everywhere. And
now
I felt like I added salt to them.

Could she ever really forgive me?

Would she ever trust me again?

Only time will tell…

I won’t give up.

“Hey! What took you so long?” I asked from the kitchen.

“Oh! Chance has a mind of his own. What’s for dinner?” he replied nonchalantly.

“I grilled some Mahi and I’m almost done making the salad. Can you help set the table?”

“Of course.” He smiled.

It was amusing to watch Sebastian move around my 1,000 square foot home over the bar. For Chance and me, it was perfect. However, he was 6’4 and weighed 210; it didn’t stop my enjoyment from watching him struggle in my tiny kitchen.

I giggled.

He turned. “What’s so funny?”

I smiled. “Nothing…I think it’s adorable how big you are.”

“Oh yeah? You’re enjoying my awkwardness of trying to move around, Ysa?”

“Sort of.”

He shook his head and laughed it off.

We sat at the table eating with Chance begging at my side.

“Chance! Go!” he scolded.

Chance was very much like his owner and looked at him like, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Stop yelling at him,”

“He can’t beg at the table. We give him scraps in his bowl when we’re done eating. He needs to learn that.”

“That’s not how we do things. He’s not used to that.”

“I’ve been here for eleven weeks and he’s going to have to get used to it.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Right…but what are we going to do when you go back home? He’s just goi–”

“What?” he interrupted with a serious tone.

“What do you mean
what
?”

“Where did that come from?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Where did what come from? I’m just saying he’s going to revert back to begging when you leave because it doesn’t bother me that he begs. He’s my boy,” I sincerely explained, scratching Chance’s head. Much to his approval.

I looked back up at Sebastian.
Why was he getting so pissed at me?

His head jerked back like I had slapped him. “Ysabelle, you think I’m going home?”

“Umm…yeah…I mean…what?” I scratched my head in confusion. “Christian is in Miami, your career is in Miami, your life is in Miami,” I clarified.

His eyes narrowed at me. “So what exactly do you think I’m doing right now?” He pointed back and forth between us. “What do you think this is?”

I instinctively raised my hands in the air in a surrendering gesture. I didn’t want to fight with him or get him angry. “Listen…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just assumed that you would go back home.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you? What do you do?”

“I stay here, Sebastian. This is where I live. This is my home,” I reminded him.

“Fuck!” he roared and stomped away from the table.

Shit…

I downed my entire glass of wine in one gulp, took a deep breath, and stood to turn to him. He was pacing the living room back and forth, running his hands through his hair, frustrated.

“Seba–”

“What do you think we’re doing?” he argued, looking right at me. He looked crazed. I needed to stay calm to not provoke him.

“I don’t…I don’t know what we’re doing…I just thought…fuck, I don’t know…” I reasoned.

“Let me get this straight, just to make sure I have all the facts here. For the last
eleven weeks
,” he stated, emphasizing his words, “we’ve been doing what exactly? Fucking? Is that all this is to you, Ysabelle?”

My eyes widened. “No…” I half-whispered, surprised.

“Then what? Please, enlighten me…because I thought we were trying to make things work as a partnership for the future, which is exactly where I fucking want to be with you. I had no idea that you intended for me to go back to Miami and leave you here. Do you think I would do that to you? That I would lose you again? Is this supposed to be a fucking game?”

I swallowed the saliva that was forming in my mouth. “I honestly don’t know.”

His mouth dropped open. “Ysa, I told you I loved you.”

“I know!” I yelled.

Jesus…how did we go from one thing to another?

“Sebastian, I know you love me, I know you always have…that’s not up for debate. I’m just confused, and it’s not because I don’t want to be with you or have a future with you. I want that more than anything. How could you say that to me?”

“What the fuck do you expect?” he reasoned.

“Some understanding maybe! I mean, is it not natural for me to assume that you would want to be near your son? How about work or money? What do expect me to think?”

“Fine…I’ll give you that. But answer this, what about us? What would happen to us if you lived here and I lived there? Huh?”

“I thought we would make it work. I mean, do the long distance thing…I guess. I didn’t think we wouldn’t be together.”

He nodded, then hesitated a few seconds. “I see.”

He sat down on the couch and slouched forward with his hands in prayer motion. Neither one of us said anything for what seemed like a long time. I started to clean up the uneaten dinner, tossing it in the garbage and then proceeding to clear the table.

I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings and I knew he was royally pissed at me. I had no idea how to make this better. I honestly thought he would go back to Miami and it never crossed my mind that he would want to stay. Here. With me. We loved each other, even though I hadn’t said it. It didn’t mean it wasn’t true, he knew it, too. When we were together, the whole world disappeared; it was just he and I. I didn’t think distance would take away the intense love we shared for each other. At least not for me.

I jumped when I heard the front door slam. All my reasoning and thoughts were gone in a blink of an eye, and all that remained were emotions and feelings; fear, loneliness, sadness, loss…

He walked out that door and he took my soul with him. I placed my hand on my chest; I couldn’t breathe. My other hand found the counter to support my trembling body.

What the fuck am I doing?

I didn’t think; I just reacted. 

I ran toward the door and called out his name.

“I don’t…I don’t know what we’re doing…I just thought…fuck, I don’t know…” she stammered.

She didn’t know? What the fuck did she think I had been doing for the last eleven weeks?

I needed to calm down before I really lost my temper and took out all my own demons and frustrations on her.

This isn’t her fault…this is yours, Sebastian. You did this.

“Let me get this straight, just to make sure I have all the facts here. For the last
eleven weeks
”—I stated, purposely emphasizing the last two words. I had left everything for her, my career, my son, my parents. She’s home to me; that’s where I wanted to be—“we’ve been doing what exactly? Fucking? Is that all this is to you, Ysabelle?”

Her eyes widened in shock, but I needed to know how fucked-up of a situation I was in.
Did this mean anything to her? Did we? Was I reading her all wrong?

“No…” she half-whispered. Which further pissed me off; Ysa wasn’t this timid. She was passionate and fought for what she wanted.
Did she not want me anymore? Had I lost her?

I had to know. “Then what? Please enlighten me…because I thought we were trying to make things work as a partnership for the future, which is exactly where I fucking want to be with you. I had no idea that you intended for me to go back to Miami and leave you here. Do you think I would do that to you? That I would lose you again? Is this supposed to be a fucking game?”

I could see the apprehension written all over her beautiful face. “I honestly don’t know.” And there it was. The truth.

I wanted honesty, and that was it. She didn’t trust me, not even a little.

Fuck me.

My mouth dropped open. After everything I had told her and everything I had tried to do…she would think I would just leave her again?

Eleven weeks, Sebastian…it’s been eleven weeks. You’ve caused a year’s worth of damage. Be patient.

“Ysa, I told you I loved you.” It was all I could say.

“I know!” she yelled.

Yes, Ysa! Fight with me…show me something. Please! I’d die without you.

“Sebastian, I know you love me, I know you always have…that’s not up for debate. I’m just confused, and it’s not because I don’t want to be with you or have a future with you. I want that more than anything. How could you say that to me?”

Oh my God, I felt like I was losing my mind. So I just reacted. “What the fuck do you expect?” I attacked.

“Some understanding maybe! I mean, is it not natural for me to assume that you would want to be near your son? How about work or money? What do expect me to think?”

“Fine…I’ll give you that. But answer this, what about us? What would happen to us if you lived here and I lived there? Huh?”

“I thought we would make it work. I mean, do the long distance thing…I guess. I didn’t think we wouldn’t be together.”

I nodded and surrendered. “I see.”

My legs couldn’t hold my weight anymore. I wanted to break down; I had to sit. I slouched forward as soon as my body hit the couch cushion from the overwhelming need to want to fucking scream and rip my hair out.

This is your fault…you ruined everything…

My conscience was fucking with me.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? What do I do? If I run to her, will she run away? Do I give it time? Do I leave?

I won’t. I can’t.

Mine.

But what if it’s not enough…

I couldn’t take it anymore; I needed a drink. She didn’t keep hard liquor upstairs; I needed to go down to the bar. The door slammed louder than I would have preferred, but I was pissed. I was fucking livid with myself.
It’s not her fault. It’s fucking me
.