Page 114 of Through You
“What are you doing?”
My mind goes back to all those moments when he did the very same thing for me.
“Creating a space.”
His eyes open slightly.
“This is your space, Artemis.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I carry on.
“If you want me to keep quiet and just hold your hand, I’ll do that. If you want to tell me everything and talk about it, you can do that too. But I’m here for you, just like you’ve been here for me so many times before. You need to stop thinking that you have to deal with problems on your own. And that you and only you can carry the burden.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I’m here for you.”
He lets out a long breath, as if he was weighed down by something really heavy.
“I . . . never felt I had any permission to—” He stares at our intertwined hands. “To feel awful, and express my emotions.
Don’t ask me why. I don’t really know. Maybe silence is the easier way out when you’d rather not hurt the people you love.”
“It’s not the best approach when some of those people are the ones hurting you.”
“Yeah, but she’s my mother, Claudia,” he tells me with a sad smile. “I would like to say that I hate her because, as we both know, she’s not a good person. But I can’t. Even now, after saying all those things to her in the kitchen, all of which I know are true, I feel terrible for hurting her because I still love her very much.”
“And that’s okay, Artemis. You have a noble soul, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you can’t keep everything to yourself forever. It’s not healthy for you. Remember that this is your space—you share anything you want and I’ll never bring it up ever again. We’ll just pretend that it never happened. What are you feeling now, Artemis?”
And this question is the one that finally knocks down the walls guarding that place inside him where he keeps his emotions locked up. His eyes get wet, and he breathes deeply.
“I’m so tired, Claudia.” His lips tremble. “I spent five years studying something that didn’t interest me. I got up, went to class, and got good grades so I could assume the huge responsibility of running the company.” He pauses, and his hands squeeze mine tightly. “You can’t begin to imagine how incredibly difficult it is to wake up every day so I can work at a job I never wanted. I’m frustrated! And then I immediately feel terrible for thinking this way because my father needs me, and I don’t want to regret the decisions I’ve made because he’s my father and I love him.”
“I get that you love him, but what about you? Your love for him shouldn’t cancel out your feelings.”
“I do it subconsciously. I always prioritize the people I love.”
“If you can’t prioritize yourself, then I will make you a priority of mine. Your well-being is the most important thing to me.
It’s enough, Artemis. Your father has already released you from many company obligations and responsibilities. You only have to train the person who’ll replace you so you can finally be free,” I tell him with a smile. “You can do whatever the hell you want, and I’ll be there to make sure it happens. Okay?”
Artemis lets go of my hands and caresses my cheek. His eyes meet mine. He slowly moves in and kisses me tenderly.
It’s a slow, gentle kiss loaded with emotion. I feel like my heart is stuck in my throat. I squeeze his hands, resting on my lap.
His soft scruff brushes against my skin while his lips softly graze mine. He rests his forehead against mine when we break away. I slowly open my eyes and get lost in the intensity of his gaze. His voice is barely a whisper.
“For me, it’s always been you.” His words warm my heart.
“Claudia, I love you.”
And there, in his space, Artemis Hidalgo takes my breath away.
Thirty-one
Are you flirting with me, Artemis?
ARTEMIS
Claudia didn’t say it back. She didn’t tell me that she loved me too when I made my declaration. I didn’t realize how much it meant to me for her say it back, and how badly I hoped she would.
I remember in great detail her expression, and how her small face twisted, looking surprised. And how her lips slowly parted yet not a single word came out. At that precise moment, Apolo knocked on the door to inform her that mother was asking for her. And she left, disappearing from my sight right after I had confessed that I loved her. I twirl the pen I hold in my hand. It’s later in the day and I’m in my office, but I keep replaying that scene over and over in my head. A part of me is glad that my mind is preoccupied with that moment and not the argument I had with my mother.
