Page 146 of When Fate Breaks
My throat begins to constrict but I swallow against it. No more of that
Use your words.
“I mean, of course Iknewit,” I continue. “It was somewhere in my memory bank of too short and too rarely occurring long distance phone conversations we had years ago. But I don'tknowit. Because…I haven’t been here in a very long time. Too long of a time. Once I realized, however, I started walking back to my purple rental PT Cruiser, fully intending on driving around and searching everyinchof this godforsaken town for you until your neighbor–Mrs. Destino–walked out of her front door. She told me Mr. Destino passed away. I’m so sorry about that–” My voice cracks. I shake my head, continuing. “Along with a million other things.”
“But, after she told me that, she told me that you had gone to visit your mom at the bookstore. And that you were probably taking her to lunch. I then thanked her and turned away, intending then to go to everyrestaurantin this godforsaken town, until she called my name again and told me you’d probably be at The Olive Pit. That you always take your mom to lunch here. Every Monday for nearly the last five years. And that made me smile. But it also made me want to cry because, again, I don’t know that. And Ishouldknow that. I didn’t get a chance to do either though, because Mrs. Destino distracted me. She told me good luck. And she told me she was telling me that because she knew I was definitely going to be needing it, based on the way you nearly drove her mailbox over this morning.”
Blake’s mouth twitches slightly and Emily’s shocked gaze shifts to her son for one moment before returning back to me.
“I apologized on your behalf, don’t worry,” I say. “But she was right. I knew I needed her luck. I still know that.” I roll my lips into my mouth, taking the slightest step forward.
“Because I’m an idiot, Blake,” I whisper. “An absolute freaking idiot that's been running for so long. Running from my hometown. Running from what my life actually was towards an idea of what I thought I wanted it to be. What I thought itshouldbe. Running from my real happiness towards a version of that happiness I made up in my head and thought would somehow be better. Running towards my dreams and then running away from them once they weren’t exactly what I thought they would be. Running from my problems. Running from my insecurities. Running from my fears. Running from life. Running from fate.” Blake’s eyes snap back into focus, centering on my face. “...Running from you.”
“I don’t want to run anymore, Blake,” I breathe, tears clouding my vision as I worry at my bottom lip. “I won’t. I know now. I know that I don’t have control over my life. I know that no matter what I prepare for or hope for, the inevitable will happen. That no amount of planning or overthinking can combat that. And that’s okay. I’m not scared anymore.”
I close my eyes, blowing a deep breath out of my nose before opening them again.
“You asked me why you were in Alabama…”
Blake’s brows pull together. My head shakes, a single tear spilling over. I quickly swipe it away, carrying on.
“It wasn’t just to fix a greenhouse. No, it was because I thought I was done. Everything was all set. Everything in my life was finally okay. Perfectlyokay. I’d checked all of my pretty little boxes. I had a college education. I had a job. I had a house. I had a semblance of a family. Friends that cared about me. A fiancé that loved me…” I trail off, and Blake’s eyes fall to the floor.
“And then I found your t-shirt.”
Blake visibly stiffens, his jaw clenching.
“And that singular piece of fabric, wadded up at the bottom of a cardboard box, covered in dust and reeking of mildew–” I break off, swallowing hard. “That piece of fabric got more emotion out of me in one second than I had felt in the last five years.”
Through my cloudy vision, I see Blake slowly lift his head to look at me.
“And I’m pretty sure Remy knew that,” I gulp. “Which is why he wasn’t all that shocked when I ended things between us.” Blake’s gaze flicks down to my bare ring finger, the muscles in his neck tensing. “Angry? Yes. Angry that this will affect his business life.Annoyedthat he’ll have to sort that out? Yes.Aggravatedthat this won’t look good for his family? Yes. But not shocked. Not sad. Notdevastated. Not in the way I was when I came home yesterday and realized you were gone.”
Blake’s hands slide from the table into his lap, his fists clenching.
“I really do love that greenhouse, Blake,” I breathe, “…but not nearly as much as I love you.”
When Blake remains frozen and unresponsive after several seconds, I hang my head and let my eyes fall shut. If I’m losing him, I’m not letting him go without everything I have to give.
“Blake,” I continue, “I know we don’t have control over our lives, but we do still have control over our choices. And, in this moment, in thislife…I chooseyou. You and every annoyingly perfect thing that comes with you. I love you, Blake Di Fazio. I have loved you with every fucking fiber of my heart and soul for as long as I can remember. I know I don’t deserve you, and you still have your choice too, but–”
My eyes open fully, suddenly registering movement ahead. I look up and stumble back a step when I see that Blake has risen from his chair and is storming straight for me, his eyes wild.
“What are you doing?” I ask, just as Blake reaches me.
“Shut up,” he says, grabbing my face in both of his hands and covering my surprised gasp with the weight of his lips crushing down on mine.
My wide eyes immediately fall closed, my arms wrapping around Blake’s neck to steady myself. Though his charge may have been aggressive, his kiss is so soft, like he’s afraid he might break me.
Blake pulls back gently, just enough to look at me, grazing my nose with his. “I love you too, Evangeline.”
“Really?” I breathe.
He nods slowly, my favorite smile making an appearance. “You used some really good words,” he says.
“Well, it’s about damn time.”
I freeze in place at the sound of a very familiar voice behind me. My knees shake as I turn around, my vision clouding all over again. I let out a chuckle of disbelief when I see who’s standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Grammy?”
