Page 26 of Broken Bonds

I shred some cheese on the pasta before putting it in the oven. This mac-n-cheese is going to be amazeballs, made with smoked Gouda and a parmesan coating. Set to one side, I have cooked bacon finely chopped to put on the tray when it comes out of the oven all bubbly and delicious. As I continue to fix dinner, I simply ask him, “Why is the house still empty after three years?”

“I spend very little time here,” he replies, raising his right hand. “And for the record, it’s not empty, I have everything I need. When I give you the tour, you’ll see for yourself.”

We both know his statement leads us to a deeper topic—something the two of us have avoided talking about since he woke up ten days ago.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me, Lionel?” I demand. “I still don’t understand why you had to lie.”

He leans his free hand on the counter and closes his eyes for a moment. Then he looks me straight in the eye.

He has the most gorgeous brown eyes, and those eyelashes… A girl has to be strong… I have to be strong not to get lost in them.

“There are certain things that have a logical answer,” he begins. “It’s easy for people only to see a guy like me for what he represents and not for who he really is. But beyond achievement, money, and power, I’m a just man, Stella. A man like any other.”

Yup, a man like any other… that’s debatable.

“That’s somewhat understandable, but the thing about your family. Why did you tell me that you were never adopted? You told me you grew up in the system.”

I hear him take a deep breath. “That’s partially true, I was a newborn when I went to an orphanage downtown, coincidentally quite close to the place where I was attacked. I was there for five years. Apparently, my mother was a minor when she got pregnant, and my grandparents didn’t think it was a good idea for her to keep me…”

I’ve heard this part of the story before, however, the feeling blooming in my chest is always the same. I want to hug and comfort him, not just the man he is now, but also for the lost child he was.

I grip the handles of the ceramic saucepan, in an attempt not to throw my arms around his neck, and I place it in the oven. For now, we are living in ‘harmony,’ but that doesn’t mean that we are going to go further.

When I think about the relationship we had, it feels like I’m being told someone else’s story. Not only because the memories seem distant, but the man in front of me is behaving differently than the one I fell in love with.

The Lionel who swept me off my feet in Carrollton used to joke around about everything, always with a witty answer, he really enjoyed being the center of attention.

In front of me, this man is quiet and thinks more about the words coming out of his mouth, and although he seems more confident with himself, he’s also humble. And dare I say it that this version of Lionel is confident, funny, and a bit cocky, but not snotty.

It’s evident with the way he lives, the house isn’t opulent. He has a nice watch on his wrist, but it isn’t encrusted with diamonds. Now, for reading, a pair of black rimmed glasses frames his eyes. The clothes he wears look expensive, but don’t have the designer labels all over them, he’s more subtle. I like that very, very much. But at the same time, it also confuses me.

How can someone change so much simply because they get hit in the head?

Lionel couldn’t erase his essence. He has assured me he remembers most things, that only some details are fuzzy, like the assault. I wasn’t there when the police officers went to the hospital to take his statement, Ethan was in the meeting with him, to spare me the painful details; although he has reassured me that he has told me more than enough about the attack.

But none of that does anything to alleviate this confusion.

“All ready?” he asks me when he sees that I put the last piece of chicken in the air fryer. I can’t believe Lionel has such a well-equipped kitchen and everything is almost brand new.

“All set,” I reply, a smile tugging up my lips, although it’s weak.

“Let me show you around the house.” I accept the hand he’s holding out to me and let him lead me to another room where there is an old-looking drawing table. Next to it is a long desk with just some drawing papers and a collection of pencils.

“I like working the old-fashioned way, it relaxes me,” he explains with a shrug while still holding my hand. “Sometimes technology is a hassle. Come on, let’s go.”

We go up the stairs to a room which appears to be a man cave. There’s not much in here, just a giant television embedded in the wall and a sofa that you could easily say that is older than Methuselah by its looks alone.

We continue our tour. At the end of the hall there are a set of double doors. He releases my hand so that he can open them, then gestures for me to enter. It’s his room, and like he said, it’s furnished. There’s a king-size bed against the side wall covered in a sleek dark blue duvet, two wing chairs on either side of the fireplace, and one more by the window facing the ocean.

He turns toward me in silence, then looks at the bed, and again at me.

“Stella, I have news for you, and I think you’re not going to like them.”

Shit, what is it now?

Chapter 10

Surprises haven’t stopped for a few days. I’ve received one after another, and it seems it isn’t going to stop anytime soon.

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