The moment that ended my football career happened in slow motion.
I saw Owen Maverick charge at me like a raging bull. I knew that the force with which he’d tackle me would be devastating. I knew in that moment that I couldn’t move fast enough to get out of his way–but I tried anyway.
And when I twisted, and he slammed into me, and I heard that sharp, sickening pop in my knee, echoed through my entire body, when the pain flooded in–sharp, instant, excruciating–1 knew: I would never run across another football field ever again.
That’s how it feels as I slide the ring–an emerald–cut diamond set in a razor–sharp halo of black diamonds, personally handpicked by Marisol Ashford herself–onto Valerie St Claire’s ring finger.
A dooming finality. A damning sentence.
As I rise to my feet to the eruption of cheers, flashing cameras, and Valerie’s triumphant smile blinding me, I’m reminded of the agony of that day, the morbid certainty that my world was crumbling around me.
I’d rather repeat that than go through another second of this.
After Lucas–fucking abhorrent bastard–proposes to Lara, we’re swept up in a flurry of interviews.
I slip into autopilot mode, a skill that I’ve perfected over the years of growing up in a pretentious family.
1 answer the questions with a polished smile, Valerie clinging to me like a baby koala.
How did you know she was the one?–“I just did, she’s the perfect heiress, and we fit in every way.”
What future do you see for yourselves?-If we have a love half as incredible as my parents, I’ll consider myself the luckiest man in the world.
Every word out of my mouth is a lie, slithering up my throat and spilling out of me like bile.
At some point, I zone out, my vision sliding over to Peter and Eliza–the only good thing to come out of this glorified charade.
Anyone with eyes can tell that, of the three couples, they are the only ones truly in love with each other. He’s so obviously enamored by her, and she so evidently adores him.
I might resent my younger brother for seemingly being oblivious to the ugliness of the monstrous family we have, but a part of me is glad that he’s found true happiness.
The other part of me is a dark, thorny forest, green with envy.
“Oh, it was love at first sight for me, definitely,” Valerie says, laying her head on my shoulder, pulling me back to the godawful interview. “As soon as I saw Nathan, I knew he was the one I wanted to call mine.”
“And you, Nathan?” the interviewer asks. “How was it seeing Valerie for the first time?”
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:.
Thinking back to the moment I met Valerie for the first time Inevitably leads me back to the moment I saw April for the first time–or at least, what I thought was the first time.
And that single crack in the mental dam I built to keep thoughts of April at bay is all it takes for the entire structure to collapse.
Pain hits like a knife in my sternum, twisting tighter with every breath. A sour taste fills my mouth, and I can feel my heart pounding, deafening in my head. Every beat is an echo: Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
This is wrong. All wrong.
There has been a mistake somewhere. I shouldn’t be giving interviews with a girl I can barely tolerate.
I should be in some faraway destination with the girl of my dreams, sighing in relief that the suffocating life I loathe is thousands of miles away.
“Nathan?”
I blink. Valerie and the interviewer are watching me patiently, expectantly.
I think of the first time I saw April–that split second when Valerie pushed her, and I instinctively moved forward to catch her. How she felt in my arms. The way those gorgeous eyes of hers widened and her breath hitched.
I might not have known who she was, but there was no mistaking what I felt.
“Enraptured,” I whisper. “I was stunned. I didn’t know who she was, but I knew in that moment that something had changed within me.”
Valerie holds a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh, Nathan.”
The interviewer wipes imaginary tears from her eyes. “You two are absolutely adorable.”
You’re freaking adorable.
God, I hope April isn’t watching this. I hope she doesn’t want anything to do with me, so she’s boycotting this stream.
I hope she’s happy. I hope she’s not hurting. I hope she understands why I did this. I hope she knows I could never love Valerie the way I love her–I could never love Valerie, simple.
I hope, I hope, I hope,
I deserve this–this hellscape I’ve slipped into. Valerie is the girl I deserve.
I see it in her eyes–that greedy, calculating look. She’ll fit seamlessly with my family. Won’t bat an eye when my mom sips vodka from a Stanley at nine in the morning, or when my father nonchalantly recalls how he blackmailed a construction staff who filed a negligence lawsuit after a workplace injury, or when Lucas ruins yet another maid.
And at night, when the terrors come, she’ll roll away, look at me with exasperation and disgust. Maybe even ask for a room of her own so she doesn’t have to deal with a defective husband.
We’ll hire a surrogate to carry our children, like my mom did for us, because she can’t stand her perfect body being ‘ruined‘ by pregnancy and childbirth.
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And I’ll be trapped in a loveless, lifeless marriage, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been.
Longing for my past, for the moment when I knew what love truly was, held it in my hands and then, callously, threw it away.
This is what I deserve.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
