Page 140 of When Fate Breaks
A loud cling sounds, pulling me from my flashback of this morning. I glance down, realizing it was my ring hitting the metal of the clipboard that made the sound. I lift my hand, staring down at the absurdly large diamond, taking in every rainbow sparkling within every facet. The gem seems to reflect the scene in the window directly behind me; the blue of the sky and the green of the tree leaves. That combination swirling together reminds me of a very particular set of eyes and I drop my hand immediately, no longer able to look at the ring as nausea resettles in my stomach.
When I look up again, both Remy and the Witters are staring at me expectantly. “Sorry, what?” I ask, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I said, time to celebrate,” Remy says, a subtle edge of grit to his tone as he nods towards my tote bag on my shoulder.
“Oh! Yes, absolutely,” I sputter, pulling the bottle of champagne from my bag.
“Well, it seems you already knew what our answer would be,” Mr. Witters says, raising a brow in Remy’s direction.
“No, of course not,” he assures the old man. “But I hoped.”
Lies, I think.He knew he’d win.
He always does.
“I’m just thrilled you made the right choice. You won’t regret this.” Remy looks at me, nodding, as if asking for reassurance. “Right, Annie?”
“Right. Of course,” I mutter.
No regrets whatsoever.
The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. The Witters sign away their business. We drink champagne. Remy talks about remodel plans that I robotically jot down in a notebook. I smile and nod when it feels necessary. I equally yearn to leave this place and dread going home at the same time.
It’s just before noon when we close the front door of the old restaurant, Remy locking it with what are officially his keys. I follow after him to the truck, climbing up in the passenger side. Once both of our doors are closed, Remy holds up his hand to me for a high-five. The smile on his face makes me return the gesture.
“Another one,” he grins.
“Another one for the Van der Michaels,” I nod.
I turn my head to look forward, but Remy’s hand on my arm stops me. “Another one forus,” he says.
Us.
Because I’ll be one of them soon. Annie Van der Michael.
Evangeline Van der Michael.
It really sounds so perfect. Like, out of a damn movieperfect. Why did so much more about this marriage than my future name seem perfect just a few short weeks ago?
I watch Remy as he drives, both hands on the steering wheel and his hazel eyes glued to the road. His lips move silently, surely rehearsing or replaying a phone call or meeting. I know this because he’s done it as long as we’ve been together. I’ve always thought it was cute; it was one of the many aspects of his work ethic and drive that I have admired since we’ve been together. I feel my face slowly melt into frown.
Thinking about it now, I try to pinpoint when exactly it was that I traded my own ambition for simply appreciating someone else’s.
I watch Remy the entirety of the short few minutes it takes us to drive home. It’s not until we enter the driveway that he finally notices, turning my way and gently squeezing my hand. He looks me up and down once before leaning in and kissing my cheek. He pulls away just slightly, nuzzling into my neck. “He leaves tonight, right?”
“Yes,” I swallow. “I need to take him to the airport at six.”
“I’d be lying if I said I was sad to see him go.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I had a feeling.”
“I get he’s your old friend, Apple Jacks, but…”
“But what?” I ask, pulling away so that I can look at him.
His brows crease just slightly. “You can do better,” he says.
I simply stare at him, not knowing how to respond to that statement, knowing just how untrue it is.
