Page 79 of Selfish Desires

Blair gently touched Zachary’s bicep, leaning into his ear and saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Zachary watched her go, his green eyes following her until she was out of sight. He sighed heavily, running his hand through his dark hair in frustration before turning back to me. “Vincent.” Zachary’s voice was stern but devoid of earlier hostility. “You’re going to do your best to fix things with Wendy and grovel.”

I kept my gaze down but nodded nonetheless.

“Alright then,” Zachary said with a curt nod. “First thing tomorrow morning. Newport.”

Blair returned, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a thin kitchen towel. She offered it to me, and I took it with a small nod of gratitude. The chill from the ice was a sharp contrast against the burning sensation on my face but welcomed nonetheless.

I looked at Blair and Zachary standing side by side, a true unified front. How did I mess up so badly? I pushed the love of my life away a second time over a chase I knew I’d never catch without Wendy with me. It was the fear winning, and I was to blame.

“Where should I sleep tonight?” My eyes darted around the room.

“You’re sitting on it,” Zachary half sneered.

“Fine,” I grumbled, settling back into the couch. “And thank you.”

Blair glanced at me once more, her eyes softening a degree before she turned to leave.

As the room emptied and the lights dimmed, I was left alone with my thoughts. I was caught in a whirlwind of regret and self-loathing, picturing Wendy's face as I walked out on her those years ago.

Why had I been so foolish? Why had I let my past rule my future?

A sudden movement drew my attention to the doorway. Zachary stood there, holding a thick blanket in his arms. He grinned slightly as he saw me huddled on the couch. Wordlessly, he came over and spread it over my legs.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Try to get some sleep.” He offered a weakened shrug. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

With that, he left me alone.

As darkness settled over the city outside, I told myself one thing: tomorrow would be a new day, a day for apologies and redemption. And maybe even a day for love.

The next morning, Zachary threw a wet washcloth at my face, the freezing fabric slapping my skin. I sat up, gasping, chasing my breath. I groaned, rubbing my face with the washcloth as I got up stiff from the couch. Every bone creaked in protest as I moved. Wow, I really was getting old.

“Get ready,” Zachary grunted, already dressed and arms crossed over his chest. “We leave in ten.” He walked away, headed somewhere unknown, but stopped suddenly. “When you’re ready, go wait for me in the car. It’s already in front warming up.”

“Someone is driving us?” I squinted.

“Yeah. Cyrus.”

“Cyrus?” I repeated, my eyebrows popping.

Zachary nodded simply and turned away, disappearing down the hallway. I stood alone in the living room, clutching the wet washcloth. My eyes searched for my phone, which sat diagonally on the glass coffee table on silent. I checked the screen for messages and nothing, my heat twisting from the emptiness.

One last time, I told myself before getting ready for Newport and dialed Wendy’s number. The call rang. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. My heart pounded in my chest, and my palms felt sweaty against the cool surface of the phone.

On the fourth ring, her voicemail message greeted me, a brief, familiar melody to my ears. “Hi, you’ve reached Wendy…” Even hearing Wendy’s recorded voice after weeks apart sent jagged pieces of glass to my heart.

“Wendy...it's Vincent. Look, I…I…” My voice trailed off, struggling to describe the storm inside my heart. “I'm sorry. Please come back to me,” I finally managed to say before ending the call.

Sighing, I returned my phone to the coffee table and got up, feeling my body ache with every movement. In the bathroom mirror, my reflection stared back at me with tired eyes and lines etched deep in my face from years of worry and regret. As I buttoned my shirt, I glanced out the window where the sun was just beginning to rise over the cityscape.

I grabbed my coat and left the room, heading to the car. Cyrus stood by the car door, which he swung open as soon as he saw me approaching.

“Good morning, Vincent.” He nodded as I slid into the backseat.

“Hey, Cyrus. Good to see you,” I half-lied through gritted teeth, reclining against the cool black leather seats, waiting for Zachary.

---