My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) (33 page)

“That’s not true, Ian.”

“When were you going to tell me? When I came home one day and you were all packed?”

His anger is building.

“Ian, I made those plans in the beginning. Everything got so busy and I was never able to put a stop to my original plans. Because of our plan.”

“
Our
plan,” he stresses. “But those are no more now I guess, huh?”

I stall. His intense stare burns holes into my broken soul.

“No,” I simply reply.

“And what about me? What do I do?”

“You move on. You forget about me and move on,” I say, defeated.

With that bold statement, Ian stands all too quickly, startling me. He turns and kicks in the side of a garbage can. Kick after kick, I watch in horror as he dents the can in rage. He stops suddenly, fighting to get air into his lungs. He turns to me with desperate-looking eyes.

“I love you, Chrissy. Why do you continue to fight that?”

He doesn’t get it. I jump off the swing. “God, Ian, I’m not fighting you. I am fighting everything around us that doesn’t allow this to fit. One after another, every time we find this happy place, a wrench is thrown our way, breaking this perfect hold we have on us. I don’t belong here. I never have.”

He looks shocked. “I thought we were fitting perfectly. What—do I not meet the criteria of your ritzy life back home? Is settling into a mediocre town with a mediocre man not good enough for you anymore? Those wrenches are just excuses. You keep acting like you’re so alone in all this; can’t you just see for a second that it’s not just you in this fight? Or has your new life turned you so shallow that you can’t see what is right in front of you?”

His low blow hurts.

“Fuck you, Ian.”

“You’re right, fuck me. Fuck me for watching a woman I have pined over since the day she left me. Since the day I watched you choose. And to know your choice wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t about choosing you. It was about keeping me alive.”

“I would have kept you alive. I would have cherished you.”

I want to pound his chest with my fists and tell him how unfair life is and tell him if I could bring us back to that time, I would redo so many things.

But I can’t. And I won’t.

“I chose to save you,” I say calmly. “I chose to allow you a future without me taking you down with my bullshit.”

“You were the love of my life.”

“I was drowning, Ian. And that meant you were downing with me. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Chrissy,” he says, stepping closer. “If I hear you tell me one more time what you think or thought what was best for me, I swear to God . . .” He’s panting, his anger seeping through his pores.

He turns away from me. I can hear his heavy breathing, and I feel like I’ve stopped breathing at all.

I don’t know what went wrong here. Or with us. I made a choice. And the day I did, I knew I would make my bed and lie in it.

I can’t change what I’ve done. Nor can I take it back. Even more sadly, I cannot change the present. Nor can he. I can’t tell Ian things will be different, because I’m scared they won’t be. I love him with all that I know, but being with him brings back a past in me that I hate. A lifetime of abuse and sadness. It reminds me of the first week I made it to California, when I locked myself in my dirty apartment that was paid in full for the week with a gas station razor and disassembled it while sitting in the bathtub, wishing away all the hurt that filled me.

I think about where I would be, or where anyone I know would be if it wasn’t for Lexi banging on my door that night with the wrong room number. I was a lost soul before Ian and I knew no matter how much I pretended I was building a new life, I would continue to be just that—lost.

I whisper, “I’m sorry,” before I turn around and walk away. Before I know it, I’m sprinting through the football field trying to find some sort of shelter to hide from Ian. I want out. I want to go home. To wherever that is and I want to be free of all this pain. And truth and judgment.

I make it past the field sidelines before he swoops me from behind. “Let me go!” I scream and fight him. I kick with force hoping he releases me, but he doesn’t. “Ian, let me go,” I say again with less force, but he denies my requests. He walks past the field and makes his way back to the playground. He finally lets me go and I stumble a few steps to get my bearings.

I whip around with vengeance, ready to give it my all until I see his face in the streetlight. And I stop.

Clear in my tracks.

His face.

“You know,” he starts, “I followed you.”

“Tonight?” I ask, confused.

“To San Francisco. It was a few months later, but I followed you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I loved you and I refused to let you go.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I saw you outside St. Markey. You were with a guy. And you were actually smiling. I’m not sure how or why, but you two looked happy. You looked happy.”

“Why didn’t you ever come and say anything to me?”

“Because I didn’t want to disrupt your new life. In the end, as much as I wanted us, I wanted you to be happy more. And you looked it. So I walked away.”

I know exactly the moment he was talking about. It was shortly after I met Brent. He had just helped me make a ton of commission off a painter by putting a good word in, and I was happy. But it most definitely wasn’t because I was in love.

I want to attack him for not telling me or stepping forward. But I want to offer acceptance for wanting me to be happy over his own wants.

“Why?” I simply ask.

“Why what?” he responds, fighting to catch his breath.

“Why do you love me? Why do you care? Why have you ever cared?” I cry.

“Because since the day I set eyes on you at fifteen, you’ve owned my heart. You did something to me that day. The look in your eyes. And I’m talking past the pain. My heart saw the beauty, and I was never able to look away. Whether you knew it first or not, our souls connected that day. And I don’t think they ever let go.”

His confession is dead on. The tears pour down my face at the truth. He owns so much more of me than I have ever been able to admit.

“I love you, Chrissy, the girl you were then, and the women you are now. And no matter what happens after this, I always will. It’s just my destiny.”

Sometimes people use physical weapons to take a person to their knees. And sometimes it takes a verbal beat down to call it quits. That was it for me. His confessions. My begging heart. Both our wounded souls.

I don’t know what gave in first. But I drop to my knees and place my tortured face into my hands and cry.

I cry for everything I’ve been denied over the years. I cry for the time I’ve lost with my sister, and for the hurt and pain I’ve caused Ian. I cry for the life I will never be able to make up for and mostly for the person I’ve become, and the hatred I feel inside for turning my back to people who loved me most.

I simply cry.

Between sobs, I feel Ian’s presence. He doesn’t ask if it’s okay. He bends down and scoops me up into his arms. I don’t fight him this time. I cuddle more into his embrace and sob into his shoulder. He holds me tightly as he walks toward his truck.

By the time we make it safely through the school grounds to the abandoned parking lot, I’ve calmed down. As I see his truck, I pull away from his shoulder and look at Ian. “I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Chris, just tell me you’ll stay. Fill my heart for me. Tell me you’ll try and see what we can become.” He stops and sits me on the truck bed. “I don’t have any of those fancy things you’re accustomed to, but by all that’s holy, I will love you and cherish you. I’ve never thought of anything but doing that since the day you walked into my life.”

His words are thick with emotion. His plea. His want. His promise. I look into the eyes of a man who should have been my destiny eons ago.

I feel a part of me finally letting go. A demon I’ve fought for so long dissolves with the help of Ian’s promise. His vow to guide us both through the past, present and future.

“I don’t want to be just your past.” I place my hands on each side of Ian’s face and give him a shaky smile. “If you’re up for the challenge, I want to be your future and your forever.”

I would normally tell you that a man who loses his composure is weak. But seeing the breakdown of a man who’s finally granted a wish he’s been praying for since the day that wish walked out of his life—there is nothing more attractive.

I make no comment as I feel the wetness coming from his cheeks as he kisses every part of my face. I say nothing as he hugs me like he might not feel this moment is real. And I say nothing as he lifts me farther into the truck bed, laying me on my back with the intention of making sweet, sweet love to me.

“I will love you till the day I die, Christina Daniels. I will die loving you. And I will fight till my last breath to show you just how thankful I am that you chose me.”

“Oh, Ian. It’s always been you. It was never about choosing. You’ve owned me just as much as I’ve owned you since that day in the cafeteria. I just pray you can forgive me for all the time I’ve caused us to miss.”

“We have forever to make up for it, because I promise you, Chrissy, I’m never letting you go again.”

“Say that again.” I replay the vow he once made me rehearse.

“I’m keeping you forever.”

“Again.”

“Chrissy, I know you didn’t get to spend much time in my house, but I have a basement, so yeah. I plan on keeping you. No matter what.”

At that we both laugh.

“Can I kiss you now? Because I really need to kiss you.”

“Have at it, handsome.”

I
T’S BEEN A FULL
, crazy two weeks since that night by the swings. After Ian’s and my blowout fight, he did what any decent guy would do if they owned a truck and had a girl in an abandoned parking lot of the high school. He ravished me in the back of his truck like we were two love-struck teenagers.
Totally crossing sex in public off my bucket list.
He showed me that staying and giving us the chance we forever deserved would be the best decision I would ever make. And he was right. After seeing two orgasmic stars, we lay in the truck bed staring up at real stars and talked. Honestly talked. I explained to him what I went through when I left and arrived in California. It was hard to speak aloud the emotions that led me to that horrible night in the bathtub and even harder to see the wreckage in Ian’s expression as he sat silently and listened. I explained my next couple of years with my career and he explained his dull life without me. How he chose to pass on his academic scholarship and just finish out at the local college in Ashford. It tore at me to hear his story of loneliness and that he felt in his heart I would someday be his again. It is truly amazing how life works. He described how he casually dated but nothing ever felt right.

With promises to take things slow, Ian and I made a pact not to give up on each other. He wouldn’t give up on me as long as I didn’t panic and run. And believe it or not, I haven’t attempted once. The day after our fight and best make-up sex in history, we sat Pippa down and shared our plans about the future for the three of us. We explained that we love each other very much and we were going to work very hard together to raise her to be beautiful and smart and someone her mommy and daddy would be proud of. That surely got us our squeal.

It’s finally the night of the dance and I’m currently in the bathroom, blowing out my hair to its highest potential while Ian helps Pippa dress in her little princess costume. Since she owns more dresses than the queen herself, we thought it wrong not to allow her some time at the dance to show her pretty self off. Patti agreed to take her and get her tucked in for the night once it was her bedtime.

With a final flip, I throw my wild red locks over my shoulder and take a good look at my smoking hot self. Going with the
Casino Royale
Bond girl look, I focus on smoking my eyes out, poofing my hair to its fullest, and slipping on my cream dress. The dress is very kid friendly, since it looks more like a jumpsuit than an evening gown. I allow my hair and makeup to set the theme. Once I’m done getting into character, I snatch my bag and head out to the living room.

I notice Pippa first; she looks glamorous in her purple and silver Cinderella gown. Never without her crown, she dances in circles by the door, in her own little world. As I tear my eyes away from Pip, I catch sight of the most handsome living creature standing in a slick black tux, admiring the child before him.

I must gasp aloud, or moan, because it catches Ian’s attention and he turns my way. His wild eyes crash into mine as he stares me down. Giving me the once over, his eyes burning into mine reveal that the last thing on earth he wants to do is step out in public at a dance. Instead, throwing me on the bed and eating me alive is more on his to-do list.

“Wow,” he finally whispers.

“Wow, yourself, handsome,” I reply.

“You look . . . you look . . .”

“She looks like a pwincess, Eeen!” Pippa does Ian a favor by cutting off his stutters and replying for him.