Page 170 of Haunt Me

“Into more pieces,” she adds.

“If we were to choose what breaks us,” I say, “I would choose you.”

“I may not have the ability to choose,” Eden replies, “according to my therapists.”

Her hand is shaking. Mine is steady, holding tight.

“I don’t know if they’re right,” I say. “I mean, I know you can choose. You’ve been choosing things since you were a kid. You chose to be brave in a situation that scares the crap out of me. You chose to be kind in the face of such cruelty. And now, after everything, you choose to fight instead of becoming bitter. You have in front of you the alternative, what you could have become: Me.” She opens her mouth to interrupt me—contradict me—but I keep talking. “And you haven’t become that—you’ve become the opposite. That’s a choice. That’s you choosing it, day in and day out, for years.”

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears. She’s listening. I am not a praying man, but I would beg heaven on my knees right now that she believes what I am telling her.

“You,” I place a palm on her cheek, holding her like the most precious thing in the universe, “have becomeyoubecause of all your choices—and if that isn’t proof that you are making the right choices, I don’t know what is.”

“I want to believe you so badly,” her voice trembles.

“Believe me,” I fix her with my gaze. “You don’t need the ability to choose; you have that. What you need is time.” I lean down. She trembles when my lip brushes her ear. A delicious shudder travels down her whole body, leaving her breathless. “And, baby, I have nothing but time.”

I tip up her face with my thumb, and lower my head towards her, drawn by an invisible force. I am fighting to keep my eyes open, but I am already lost. I can’t help the surge of heat that convulses through my whole body, and I have barely touched her. She grabs my wrist lightly, making me stop. My eyes snap open. Eden brings my hand to her lips and quietly kisses my fingers. I inhale sharply, shivering from head to toe.

“Food is here!” Ollie screams from somewhere behind us, and Eden jerks, letting go of my hand.

The spell is broken.

“Coming!” she calls and starts running towards the huge, white tent they have set up for us.

I look out into the sea. The sun has just set.

…

Wes raises his glass. We are sitting in groups at three big tables covered in white, set with fine cutlery and crystal glasses, as if we are dining at the Ritz. The darkening sky is bathed in the last of thesun’s pink light, and there are torches lit all around the tables, blazing orange.

I am two seats away from Eden; this is pure torture. Opposite me sits Wes, his hand resting on the back of Ari’s hair. He’s lightly playing with her brown curls, as if he’s not even aware he is doing it. But she turns to look at him, just once, just slightly, and he abandons his glass and looks like he’s one breath away from losing all control and gripping her hair just to tilt her head back and lower his lips on hers.

Great. Now I’m imagining myself and Eden in their place, and a cold fist clenches around my heart. I put down my fork. Ari clears her throat and Wes seems to wake up. He picks his glass back up, and raises it for a toast.

“This is to thank all of you,” he says, “for working with me, on this and other projects.” He glances briefly at each of us: He is right. All of us have either created music or films with him. Worked with him on several, significant productions. Spencer points to Eden with one finger, the rest still wrapped around his crystal glass. “Here is to what’s coming,” he says, winking at her.

Ollie nudges Eden—he is seated on her other side. “Your last chance to get out,” he tells her in a theatrical whisper.

Eden turns to him. “Out of what?”

Everyone laughs, including Spencer.

“Out of getting you to work with this lunatic,” Ollie replies.

Eden blushes furiously, but her eyes are dancing, all happy.

Theo introduced her to Ollie earlier—I watched. Nearly had an aneurism, but I stepped away and managed not to say anything.

Even now, my heart constricts at the thought of her admiring any guy, but here she is, seated between two of the universally-acknowledged ‘sexiest men on the planet’. On one side of her is Theo, a billionaire whose rock-hard abs have graced more than one underwear billboard in Times Square. And on the other, Oliver Sikks—a tall, dark statue of a man, who has been a soap-opera idol since his teens, adored by billions of girls, and now about to join Spencer on the cast of his Regency show. Yes, that’s all I need, Eden looking on while Ollie takes Wes’ place in that white soaked shirt.

Suddenly, even though we are outside, there isn’t enough air.

I know it will happen, sooner or later. Eden will meet someone and she will fall for him. And he will live and die for her. Most of the people sitting at this table already seem ready to defend her with their lives, should she need them to. I don’t know if she sees it yet—if she realizes with how much awe people look at her. How much they love her the minute they start knowing her.

But she will eventually.

And she will pick someone, the best one there is.

---