Page 67 of Broken Hearts

“I—” She opens her car door. “I can’t look at you right now; I need space. Can you at least do that?”

Standing alone in the parking lot, the night's chill can't compare to my simmering frustration. As her car disappears, I feel a part of me leaving with her. I'm left facing the reality of the chaos I've caused.

I've made a massive mistake. Despite my twisted intentions to keep her close, I've ended up driving her away. Rubbing my face, I feel the weight of each poor decision crashing down on me. I’ve been an idiot, playing a risky game, and now I'm facing the consequences.

As her car vanishes into the night, something settles inside me. This can't be how our story ends. I refuse to let it. We’ve got something worth fighting for, even if I’ve got to change my game to win her back.

Each step towards my car strengthens my resolve. It's going to be tough, no doubt about it. But I’m ready for it. For her, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ve got to show her that I’m not just the guy who screws up—I can be the guy who fixes things too.

Chapter 25

Eva

After a restless night, I wake up tangled in my sheets, my mind still churning.

Married.

The word haunts me, playing on a continuous loop in my head. Married to Cole Westbrook. The absurdity of it all is overwhelming, yet a tiny, foolish part of me can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought. But I swiftly quash that notion; this isn’t a whimsical fairy tale. It’s real life; my life turned upside down.

I trudge into the living room, my eyes heavy with the lack of restful sleep. There, sprawled on the sofa, is Cole, looking like he hasn’t slept much better than me. My irritation, simmering just below the surface, flares up at the sight of him. “I told you I needed space!” I snap, frustration lacing my voice.

His eyes snap open, and he sits up, meeting my gaze. There’s an intensity there, a mix of defiance and raw desire that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. “And I’ve given you space,” he counters, his voice tinged with that familiar huskiness. “I’m not in your bed, am I? Even though that’s where I want to be. Where I belong.”

His words, heavy with implication, linger in the air. I struggle to keep my composure, knowing now isn’t the time to succumb to the intense pull between us. What I need is clarity, not the captivating chaos of his nearness.

'You’re my wife, Evangeline Westbrook,' he states plainly, jolting me with the stark reality of his words. The term 'wife' feels surreal, almost laughable in its absurdity, yet its truth weighs heavily on me.

A crash from the kitchen breaks the moment. I turn to see Poppy and Nessa staring, shock written all over their faces, a broken mug at their feet. The truth is out, and an awkward conversation is inevitable.

Turning back to Cole, I'm speechless. How do you confront someone who has so thoroughly disrupted your life? Anger, hurt, and betrayal churns inside me, contrasting starkly with the deep, inescapable bond that, despite everything, still draws me to him.

I jerk my head toward my bedroom, and he follows me in. I know my bedroom is only an illusion of privacy as the walls are thin, and I’m pretty sure that Poppy will repeat to Nessa anything she hears, but it’s enough for now.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, my mind races. “After everything we discussed, how could you think it was a good idea?” I try to temper my voice and appear calm despite everything.

He leans against the door, crossing his feet at the ankle. He appears nonchalant, but I know it’s probably a way to stop any escape until we finish this discussion.

“I don’t think it’s the drama you are making it out to be.” He raises his hands when he sees anger flash in my eyes. “All I’m trying to say is that we would have ended up there anyway, so why waste time?” He adds, “Life is short.”

“How can you be so unbothered by what you did?”

“I honestly thought you would remember in the morning. You were not drunk enough to forget.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “You were not drunk enough to forget,” he repeats, his tone more resolute.

It does explain a lot of things. His wariness when I first woke up and his evasiveness when I asked questions. “Okay, but you could have told me right then and there.”

“You said you wanted to marry me!” He repeats the same argument stubbornly.

“I—” I pause, struggling to find the words. “Cole! Yes, maybe, but even if we’d never broken up, I never imagined being a teen bride! I thought… I thought we’d get married after college, have a big wedding. Not… this.” My voice trails off, sounding as defeated and confused as I feel.

He moves closer, his expression earnest as he crouches in front of me. “We’ll be twenty soon, Angel. We’re not children. And you want a big wedding? It’s not too late. We can still do that. Nothing is stopping us.”

His optimism clashes with my doubts. “No, it’s… this is insane!” The words burst out. “We need to undo that. We need to divorce or whatever.”

His face hardens. “No, Eva, listen. What’s done is done. Let’s not be hasty.”

“We were hasty getting into this mess in the first place, so why not be hasty getting out of it?”

“Do you love me?”

---