Page 58 of Selfish Desires

“Hey, babe?” Vincent asked, opening the door and stepping into the dimly lit room. He shut it behind him, looking like a man lost at sea. “Can we talk?” Unlike the confident Vincent I'd known all these years, he sounded vulnerable.

“We are,” I answered curtly, not bothering to face him.

“I mean... really talk,” he corrected, walking toward me. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch me but close enough to show he was there.

“I don't know what you want me to say, Vincent.” My voice was hushed and fragile.

“You don't have to say anything...just listen,” he urged, his voice thick with desperation.

I inhaled sharply and finally turned to look at him. Ugh, why did Vincent have to be so handsome? His blue eyes shimmered with an intensity that could pierce the blackest of hearts, starkly contrasting the wrinkled shirt and disheveled hair. His rugged appearance made him seem more real, more human—and that was a dangerous thing.

I gestured for him to continue, and he began speaking. “I’m going to fix this. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I will figure it out. Whoever was fucking with me then is still out there now. And we can’t ignore it.”

“Are we really in that much danger?” I hoisted myself until my back was flush against the gray quilted headboard. “Maybe this person just wants to mess with you. Did you ever think what would happen if you ignored him completely?” I paused, reconsidering my last words. “Wait, do you think it’s a guy? Or a woman?”

“Honestly, Wen, I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I lost a layer of my instincts that have always guided me down the right path. And suddenly, it’s like I’m caught in this fog.” Vincent shook his head, glancing at my engagement ring. “I won’t ignore it.” He swallowed. “We won’t ignore it.”

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“Well, tonight I want to run over to the property and ensure no one messed with that. And then I’m going to go sit somewhere and think.”

“All of this is happening tonight?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes. I won’t be able to sit still if I don’t start doing something now.”

“Here we go again.” I rolled my eyes, trying to increase the distance between us on the bed, but there was nowhere to go.

“Don’t say that.” Vincent reached for me but was met with air.

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re running away. Or starting to. This is how it always starts.” I hoisted my knees to my chest, hugging them.

“You’re jumping to a conclusion that won’t happen.” He reached for me, and this time, when his hand got too close to my arm, I swatted it away. “Wendy, come on.” Vincent frowned. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stay here tonight. With me. And tomorrow, we’ll figure this out together.”

A silence hung in the room, dense enough to be cut with a knife. Even the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Vincent's response.

“You’re right about tomorrow,” he said finally, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “We’ll work on this together.” Vincent stood, and already a piece of my heart was being yanked from my body. “But tonight, I’m going to do what I have to do for us.” He started to walk to the door as a shot of adrenaline surged through my body.

I lunged to the end of the bed, almost falling off. “Vincent, if you leave tonight, I swear…”

He yanked the door open hard enough to pull it straight off the black hinges. “You’ll what?” Vincent shrugged heavily. “Tell me, what will you do? I’m going to be back a little later. I promise.” He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he gently closed the door behind him and disappeared.

I sat there in the stillness of our bedroom, his words reverberating around me like echoes in a hollow cave.

For a long time, I didn't move. It was as if every muscle had turned to stone under the weight of my disappointment, fear, and anger. The clock ticked on, carving each moment of his absence raw into my heart.

At some point, though I didn’t notice, the door opened, and featherlight footsteps padded across the floor. The mattress shifted under someone’s weight, and it wasn’t until a sweet, spiced, and floral scent hit my nose did I realized it was Blair.

“Scoot over, Wendy,” she said gently. The bed creaked and dipped on the other side as Blair made room for herself. “He's not running away, you know. At least not this time.” Her voice was tender but firm. I didn't reply. Instead, I stared at the blank wall before us.

“He's just trying to protect you,” Zachary’s voice chimed in from somewhere distant.

I twisted my body, glaring at Zachary, who stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You’re just saying that because he’s your friend.”

“No, Wendy. I'm saying that because it's true.” Zachary's gaze was unwavering, his stance strong and secure.

“I didn't ask for protection.” My voice faltered. “I asked for him to stay.”

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