Page 66 of The Muse
“So, how do I even know you want me to come with you? It makes no difference to you.” I hold my breath after the words are out. A part of me is furious that he’s not more excited about a possible adventure—hell, a possible life with me.
“Of course, I want you to come with me. I’ve asked you, haven’t I?”
“Then say it. Tell me. Because all I’m feeling from you, Scott, is indifference,” I shout, in an attempt to make him understand. My hands claw my chest, desperate for him to see the confusion. “How do you think that makes me feel?”
“Until you’re with me, I won’t do it, Seffi. If you’re waiting for a declaration or proposal, it’s not coming so–”
“I’ve just given up my family for you! Why is it all or nothing?”
He turns, paces, runs his hands through his hair like he's about to yank it out of his skull. “I don’t do half measures, Seffi. And you’re still a Broderick. Until you’re out of here, that’s not going away.”
“You are such a jerk. You fell in love with me as Seffi Castlewood. I’m doing everything you've asked, but you’ve done nothing for me. And you expect me to hop on a plane and forget everything I have for you? When you refuse to even tell me you love me?” My anger thrives as I give more oxygen to my words. “You’re being absurd.”
His spin is so quick I falter slightly. “And you’re being a fucking Broderick. Still.”
My eyes flare at his words, so easily thrown back in my face, and I storm over to the screens to tear them open.
“Seffi?”
“You have no right to use that against me. I’ve given that up for you. Yet that seems to mean nothing. All you care about is your precious Paris. Your precious Paris and your precious painting.”
My eyes whip around the space and land on the two paintings of me. Fitting, really. One, the Seffi Castlewood that captured his inspiration and brought life to our relationship. The other, the Persephone Broderick that he can barely stand to look at, let alone love.
“Seffi, calm down. You’re acting irrationally. Come on out of there.” Scott moves towards me, but I just step closer to the Broderick piece.
“You need to let this go, Scott. This relationship won’t be all me. It’s about two sides. You can’t hold my name over my head and bring it up whenever you’re cross or angry or we fight.”
“Seffi, I’m sorry. Look, you’re angry at your brother. You're hurt, I can see that and–”
“No, I don’t think you do,” I cut in, running my fingers around the dark, atmospheric piece that brought Scott back to me. “I don't think you see me at all.”
“Paris can be our future, Seffi. We just need to go. You can dance. You can teach. You can do whatever you want, and then we'll find a way.” He puts out his hand as if coaxing a scared child out of a dangerous place.
“Paris isyourfuture, Scott. And I want to be a part of that. I really do. But not if I’m only an option–an added bonus for you. I want to be this.” I throw my arm out towards the first painting he did of me. “I want to be this to you. All the time. No matter what my decision, no matter where we go or what I say.”
He moves closer, his fingers now reaching for me. “You are. But you’re acting like a spoilt brat, for Christ's sake. Life isn't that fucking idealistic.”
Not the words I wanted to hear, Scott.
I go back to the Broderick piece and snatch it off of the easel before he can get to me. Maybe if my words aren’t reaching him, my actions will. My heart thunders, squeezing at what I’m about to do. But if this is the only way he’ll see that he can’t make me feel insignificant, or treat me like a mere acquaintance who he’ll enjoy while it lasts, but not anything more, then so be it. I am sick of being treated as less by everyone in my life.
The painting is over my head and smashed down onto the floor so quickly even I'm shocked when it lands. The frame snaps, cracking in the air between us, and then I lift again and repeat, damaging the painting beyond all repair.
“Fuck you, Scott.” My voice cracks as I say the words, fear slicing through my anger at what I’ve done. Have I pushed him too far? I just wanted to show the man I love that I need to hear that from him. That while Paris is his dream–he is mine. He needs to understand that I’m lost in the world and have no North without him. Yet, I might have just shattered all that. My anger got the better of me, and now the realisation that love might not win out sinks into my heart.
I leave the canvas in a heap on the floor, a fitting metaphor for the identity he seems to have so much trouble accepting, all the while crying inside. Maybe this will help show him what I need or how much I need him to see that I never deceived him. Something has to because going forward, I’m not Persephone Broderick. Not anymore. But I’m not quite sure if she hasn’t tainted the Seffi Castlewood I was when I first met Scott, either.
Epilogue
LANDON
“Alright, Landon.”
Crossing the room, I pick up my keys and start heading for the car. “For the next two months at least, Noah. I want to know exactly what flight he’s on and if she’s on it with him. Hotel bookings. Rentals in Paris. Everything.” I know where she is for now, and Noah Locke can keep a check on her there, but going forward, I want everything that involves her and where she is. “Make sure there’s someone posted at that fucking building permanently. If she’s gone and I don’t know where, you’re going to be held responsible.”
The huff that comes over the phone doesn’t concern me in the slightest. He’s as much of a frustration as Foxton is, but at least he’s a frustration with a past that has my hands all over the legalities of it. He also happens to be the best investigative thief this country has to offer, which is why I pay him a fortune to do all the things I shouldn’t be seen doing. He's rather good at it. Insidious. Underhanded. Highly intelligent. As proved by the many tasks I've given him, the last of which was simply finding her whereabouts when she upped and left in her temper tantrum. Typical Persephone behaviour. Juvenile. Self-indulgent and lacking any sense of responsibility to anything but herself.
“And remember the deal, Noah. I doubt your brother wants another stretch in prison because of your inadequacy. Which you know Iwillorganise again if I have to.”
