Chapter 65
As Terry approached Candy, he became more clear to her, while the outside world had turned into a blur. He was there after all, in flesh and bones. He was also quite beaten up. Worry and surprise in equal measure were mirrored inside her liquid emerald eyes of hers. She jumped up from her seat. She could hardly breath.
If they had fought...
If Christian was harmed...
"What are you doing here?" Her eyes kept going back and forth, looking at Terry and the carriage door, waiting still.
Perhaps now...
She realised by the minute, Terry didn't seem like he was expecting company. Christian wasn't coming.
"Christian? Where is he?" She turned to him.
...
"What happened to you?"
...
"What have you done with Christian, Terry?"
...
His silence felt like the quiet before the storm. The more she saw the darkness descent inside his gaze, examined with more care the cuts and the bruises on his face, the stitches on his brow-
"Oh! God!" She cried.
She felt like throwing up.
The colour from her face drained. Her body trembled.
Terry hadn't expected a welcome reception from Candy, nor open arms and tears of joy, but to see her so wound up over Christian's absence, not to mention her reaction that was verging to hysteric; insinuating something far worse and sinister, cut him deep to his soul.
He caught her by her arm and made a conscious effort to keep calm and not just drag her out from the dining area, in full view of everyone being there. Already people had started to throw curious glances at them.
"Darling, you're just tired. It's better if you lied down. Christian unfortunately was held back." His voice came through gritted teeth and was courteous, cold like the first wind of winter.
He picked up her suitcase and took hold of her hand, squeezed it so tight, she feared she would hear the bones crack. He led the way and she followed, while keeping her captive.
Was he seeking revenge?
Was he to punish her for her insistence of not wanting to hurt Christian?
Her heart was beating so fast to the point of breaking. They went through a couple of carriages till they entered the more luxurious First Class. He looked at the closed doors of the cabins, till he stopped in front of number 4. He opened it and walked in. The cabin was quite a luxurious one, with a large bed and a couch.
He pulled her in front of him with force, she had to momentarily find her balance before turning her eyes on him.
"I upgraded us to something more comfortable." He said. " The cabin your lover had booked wouldn't fit the two us sideways, unless, you don't mind us being on top of each other." He sounded snarky.
She turned around for a moment, taking in their surroundings, before she returned her confused gaze on him.
"Where is Christian?" She insisted, not reacting to his previous comment.
"I killed him!" He exploded. The veins on his neck bulging. "Are you happy with my answer now?" He added, not letting her from his sight.
He should have tortured her more about the whereabouts of Christian, given how she assumed he had something to do with his non-show... but she looked pretty tired herself. In fact, her appearance when he saw her, has caught his breath. For him, Candy was and always had been the most beautiful woman he laid his own eyes on, never failing to notice her appearance but the way she looked while sitting and waiting on that table in the dining carriage, made him feel like shit.
It was only three days ago, he tried to force himself onto her inside her house, and had left her distraught, having collapsed on the floor into a heap of torn clothes and tears. She looked gaunt, pale and the dark shadows of sleeplessness and worry that had appeared under her eyes made her stare older, more intense.
"Here, that's for you." Pulled Christian's envelop from his jacket pocket and threw it on the table.
He turned his eyes towards the window, let them sink to the speeding world they were leaving behind, while she opened the letter. They were burning.
There was silence. The accelerating rhythm of the train's wheels over the rail joints matched his heartbeats.
My darling Rose
When you read this letter, I do hope with all my heart that you are on that train to Glasgow. You'll also know that I haven't been able to join you as we had planned. I wish I could have.
Terry wondered whether coming on board of the train had been the right thing to do. Candy feared Christian was left behind, inside some ditch by his own hand, and she looked at him like the monster who had destroyed her relationship with him.
I've done many mistakes in my life Rose, some of them rather grave. Before I met you, I really didn't care for any of them. And then you made me realise that nothing came higher than caring for and loving someone. However much I tried, none of my ways were daring enough for me to atone for all the foolishness I committed.
"He needs my help."
Terry heard her get up and he turned. Her green eyes rippled beneath the pools of tears that had gathered inside them.
"I need to help him." She repeated. The look on her face was preoccupied. Her mind turning like the engine of the train, thinking, thinking, thinking...
I have to go." She added and turned her back at him. She had already left.
You gave me a taste of life, I now want for me and for the woman that will stand by my side one day. To do that, I have to set the slate clean. Please don't try to return. I know you'll try, you'll want to help. That's why I sent Terry.
Inside the confinement of their cabin, he didn't need to move much. Before she went far, he reached and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her from walking further. She turned back towards him, golden curls having fallen inside her freckled face.
"We have left London if you haven't realised it." He told her as a matter-of-fact.
"I don't care! I'll stop the train, I'll do anything! I need to get off, I need to help him, Terry!" She cried.
So don't be mad at me. What I have to do, I have to do it on my own. For now.
"Listen to me! He sent me to you and we're going to follow his orders." He was holding her from both her shoulders, having not realising he was shaking her. Streams of tears were rolling down her red cheeks.
"You don't care about him, Terry!" She shouted in contempt.
"You'd be glad if he was dead."
Her eyes glimmered with anger.
"You don't know!"
He stopped; looked bewildered. Such was the intensity of her last words, he wondered what was the point of him being there. She had made it very clear she loved Christian. He was unwanted, something from her past she wished to discard.
That insolent fool that I bestowed with the task to give you this letter and keep you on that train, though not as perfect as I, he has his heart on the right place.
His grip over her shoulders loosened and he took a step back. Candy searched inside his eyes, having not used to Terry backing down. Having him in front of her, wasn't something she had counted upon. She had prepared herself to meet his brother instead. Tell him what she knew. But not Terry. She never took as an option to tell Terry. Given his attitude and her feelings for him, she hadn't readied herself to part with such truth. She had hoped for Christian and him to talk between them.
How could she tell the man who stood in front of her, that her lover was...
Is his twin brother.
She couldn't. She felt light headed. She had to find Christian. She used Terry's inaction to turn away from him, quickly, with the heart stuck in her throat and burst out of the room, in search of the emergency break.
I will always keep you in mine
Christian
He watched her leave.
"So you have a plan..."
"I do - and it involves you taking my place on that trip with her."
"Didn't you listen she hates my guts."
"I don't care. You short out your mess. She won't stay mad forever."
"And if I don't do it?"
"You will do it, because you love her... I'm asking you because I love her."
He gritted his teeth. He glanced at the letter, left on the bed.
"To hell with this..." The words left his lips like bullets.
His fists had turned to iron. He run out the room, slammed the door behind him. He glanced both ways of the corridor, took the turn from where they came from. Saw her figure in the distance. Walking fast down the corridor of the next carriage, passing by closed cabin doors. She was looking for the "communication cord". He rushed behind her, turquoise fires burning inside his eyes. He speeded up.
His fingers wrapped around her arm, stopped her mad search. Yanked her back and she fell on his chest.
"Let me go!" She shouted. She brought her hands up and she hit him, punched, slapped his chest, kept pushing him back, her eyes like rippled emerald flames.
"If something happens to him..."
He heard the words squeezing through her sobs. Terry's jaw clenched. Despite bring him to his limits, there was no use to be mad at her, not now. He closed his arms around her and allowed her to sink in, let what she felt to leave her right there, the anger, worry, her tears, everything.
"Nothing will happen to him..."
She could hear his heart beating on his chest, the vibrations of his voice.
"You need to trust him, Candy...He wanted you away, so despite what you think, you'll help him better by doing what he wanted you to do."
He pulled her back to look at her. She found it hard to tear herself away from inside his arms, from that strong heartbeat of his, the softness of his voice that had soothed her down to the marrow of her bones. She met with his eyes. His gaze was polite and caring. The Terry from a few days back, the one who had confessed how he wanted her all for himself, wasn't there anymore. His reaction to her breakdown could have been directed to anyone who was in need of help.
That insolent fool... has his heart in the right place.
It was indeed in Terry's nature to help others. Hadn't he jumped into the lake to pull out Eliza once? Even if he despised her, he put no second thought into helping her when she was struggling to stay afloat.
"I am sorry Candy." He said, the shadows in his eyes gathering, when he saw her looking back at him.
Hard to believe the years that had gone by; how
time
life
had changed them both in the end. How they had been like two dots in space and time with trajectories which happened to converge one cold night in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, only for them both to slowly move apart again.
"For everything."
Those few words were too little to contain all his wrong-doings, he felt, but each came from deep inside him and he wasn't a man of many words; he never was. The man who embodied almost in perfection all the heroes of Shakespeare, able to recite them in such a way, that the audience believed him being Hamlet or Romeo, or Macbeth, and the poet's words were indeed his very own - but no, the true Terry was more direct. Never felt he had to dress his pain and anguish with adjectives and metaphors. When someone stabs you in the heart, you don't have time to dress your pain with poetic flare.
You are fucking dying... and that's the raw end of the stick. His life so far had made him painfully aware of such eventualities.
She didn't know how to respond. There was nothing to forgive him. Even his drunken bursting inside her home a few days back. She had sent him to hell... regretting she had said that ever since. Of course, he had lost it completely, he had attacked her and if she hadn't pushed him back... Still, her faith to Terry even if tested, remained intact.
She was sorry he had been stuck in the past. Loving her as she was then, and not as she was now. Even so, it was too late. Knowing what she did, had changed everything. She felt the weight of his stare, dark within its remorse...
She turned her eyes away, fixed them elsewhere, not being able to bear it looking at him any longer. He didn't say anything more, he knew he was making her uncomfortable.
"Can we please go to the cabin?" He said in a near whisper, while she was still inside his arms.
She nodded in agreement. He left her to lead the way. She took a few steps and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold on the residual warmth his body left on hers.
They entered the cabin again, Terry closing the door behind them. He put his hands inside his pockets, raised his eyes and his forehead wrinkled when he stared at her, picking Christian's letter, and putting it in the pocket of her dress before she turned to face him.
The situation between them had calmed down and he was thankful for that, but he wasn't willing to stay there with her in the cabin. He didn't want to "talk". In fact, over those two weeks they were supposed to "be together", he preferred if possible to actually physically be together for as little time as it was feasible under the circumstances. It was clear enough his presence was stressing her out and why wouldn't she be... Given how openly he pursued her and how she kept defending Christian and their relationship. And then that horrific evening in her house. He couldn't take away that, but he could take away himself. He had apologised in a moment everything felt raw and came close and she tried to avoid his stare.
Yes, the less they'd spend time together the better. For the time being she could take the cabin - she could order food here, he could even order it for her -
she could sleep at the bed - he'd take the couch if he want to have also a few winks of rest.
When they'd reach the isle of Barra... well it was an island after all. Christian would have booked some room in a traveler's lodge, a B&B somewhere more secluded perhaps... he'd take the room next to her, and try to spend those two weeks as bloodless as possible.
She followed him with her stare, as he walked to the bathroom, she heard the water tap running and then him coming out again, five minutes later, drying his hands with the towel. After the drama she had caused by reading Christian's letter, an awkward silence occupied the space between them. She hadn't said a word and yet, there were so many things she wanted to ask him. Why was he beaten? What had happened to him? How did he meet with Christian? Where? And what had they discussed about her?
The train was speeding towards Scotland like an arrow of light carving through the night's darkness. Terry patted his pockets before his eyes stopped on Candy's face.
"I'll leave you in peace... I'll spend some time at the bar, grab something to eat." He said. Scratched the back of his head -
"There must be a menu here somewhere." He said, his voice trailed off as he looked around, all the while wanting to go, and not spend much more time with her.
The realisation of how much of a chore this situation must had been for Terry dawned on Candy's mind. The more she saw him, aimlessly looking around for that bloody menu, the flames of a newly born anger started flickering inside her stare, making her feel warm.
"Please go Terry." She ordered him, without wanting him to spend another minute there. She hadn't the stomach for a fresh confrontation. "I'm a grown up woman, capable of arranging my own dinner. I don't need you to baby sit me."
"I didn't mean-"
"I know very well what you meant, you don't have to use words to know." She said and turned her back, pretending to look in her bag. Took her cigarettes out.
"I'll leave pillows by the sofa when you come back." She said with an indifferent tone in her voice, as is she spoke to the train's concierge.
He stared at her for a couple of moments, cursing the conflicting feelings she was able to raise in him. "Very well then." He replied. "We'll talk in the morning." He said, turned and left her standing there.
She stomped her foot down, feeling frustrated. Started pacing, every step of hers taking her up one notch on the intensity of her frustration, which turned into anger and soon she felt furious with Terry.
She felt rejected.
She wasn't to stay in the room, like a prisoner. Nor like a leper Terry had to stay away from. She was going to wear her best dress and go and dine on her own, and she was not to give two hoots about Terry.
He can drown to the bottom of his glass
For all she cared. She opened her suitcase and took out a floor length emerald backless dress, made of chiffon silk. She had packed it last. Its fabric was so thin and airy, it hadn't added much bulk. It was the only fancy dress she had added in the pile of cotton day dresses. Didn't know why she even had bothered to add it.
A last farewell night with Christian perhaps... by now she couldn't say.
After having a quick shower to refresh herself, she put it on, tousled her hair to separate the curls. Didn't bother with much else. Added a bit of mascara and a red lipstick and left the cabin.
Terry had already been in the dining carriage, nursing his second glass of whiskey. Not having much of an appetite, he had snacked on whatever assortments were brought to him with the drink. The bowl with the dry sultanas and a variety of nuts was still in front of him. His stare had been lost in the darkness outside, not caring much about what went on inside the train.
Inside his mind, he was trying to put everything into some semblance of an order. The last few days felt as he was living inside a hurricane, a dream where he had disappeared down to Alice's rabbit hole, a nightmare of Wonderland where nothing was what it seemed to be.
In-between the Angels & Demons disaster and the train journey, there was something else, he had kept all to himself. It had taken place the night before. Nobody knew apart from his father. His father knew...
His friend and chairman of the William Shakespeare Trust, Sir Archibald Flower had phoned on Tuesday evening, at Terry's suite in Claridge's. Just as he was packing. After discussions with the director of the Shakespeare Memorial theatre, they wanted him to join the troupe. It was mostly unexpected for Terry and frankly, by the time he had this phone call, his trip to the Shakespeare countryside felt as it was a life time away. He had been most flattered obviously. For a young actor such as himself, not even thirty yet, it was a big accolade even by humble standards.
Terry had stood with the phone receiver completely still before seeking to sit down. Not many things had the ability to knock the wind of his sails, like that phone call and rightly so, given that based on his answer, his whole life would change. He'd have to move to Stratford from New York. Leave the Stratford Theatre Company and Robert, and the troupe he had worked with for all those years - they finally had come to accept him and he had grew mature enough to tolerate them.
He would have to leave Eleanor back...
It was a big decision and something he - of course - couldn't just take in the space of ten minutes, which was the duration of that phone call. He'd be provided with a cottage by the river Avon, of course, very idyllic and suitable for a thespian dedicated to study the works of the most famous English bard.
He was very polite and courteous on the phone. Excited even, just a tiny part. He couldn't help it. Recognition of such degree was something he only had dreamt in his wildest dreams as an actor. However, he asked Sir Flower where he was able to give him two weeks in order to give him a definite yes or no. That was the time they had left to wrap up the Hamlet production. He didn't hide the fact that he would be away, taking some much needed holidays in Scotland, reminisce of his youth. It was the first time he had returned to Great Britain in more than ten years after all.
How and under what frame of mind, he called his father, he still hadn't processed that, but he did call him right after. Perhaps it was the fact that Sir Flower had been the Duke's friend, when Terry mistakenly thought that this whole plan had been orchestrated by his father. Or maybe at that particular moment in Terry's life, he had no one else to share this life-changing news apart from his father. He needed someone who would be partial enough so to not weigh in with their own expectations as to what Terry should do. He wanted no one to influence him. Even if that expectation of his was a fallacy and he knew it.
Wouldn't Candy influence his decision? He didn't need to be in a relationship with her for him to decide whether or not, he'd stay in England. Just the knowledge, of living in such close geographical proximity with her and the man she had chosen...even if that man for the time being was a runaway from the law.
In any case, putting his feelings for Candy aside, only her, was enough. He didn't need anyone else to start asking him what would his decision be. His father would have been the most impartial from the lot, simply because he knew he hadn't much say into Terry's life any more.
And then that unexpected discussion he had with his father when he went to visit him had touched a raw nerve. How both of them had been condemned to live away from the one woman they had truly and absolutely loved - how they had kept away in fear of not being strong enough to let go for a second time.
For the first time in Terry's life, he had found common ground with his father. Something that had shaken him to his core, a seismic realisation, which at the time, he had put aside, for the sake of other more pressing matters, Christian having been one of them.
So he had phoned the Duke who for a moment had lost his usual eloquence and quick wit. He hadn't expected a phone call from Terry, especially not one on a week night, at a late time when the only phone calls one receives are of a more urgent nature - being one of grave health issue or accident which needed immediate hospitalisation. When he heard Terry on the other side of the phone, immediately assumed the worst and for that, he had momentarily gripped the phone with unusual strength whilst he felt the blood pumping on his temples.
What's wrong? Eleanor? Is Eleanor ok?
To those questions, he had received no answers. Only silence, albeit brief, enough for him to take the unprecedented step of cursing, asking Terry to speak up damn it!
Of course, Terry hadn't expect this spontaneous and in nature urgent reaction and was thrown off course from what he had been prepared to say to his father - that was the reason for the silence from his part and not some perverse enjoyment he had, to hear his father agonising on the other side of the line about Eleanor's wellbeing.
In any case, after he found his voice and calmed his father down, increasing finding the whole incident amusing, he revealed the reason of his phone call. Having expecting his reaction had been one of spontaneous elation. He congratulated his son and said that he wasn't surprised. The evening when he and Sir Flower were watching him from the theatre box, the man had been enthralled with his performance and not one peep had left the Duke's lips about the genealogical tree of Terry.
Nevertheless, in a move which Terry appreciated greatly, his father advised him that whatever his decision would be, he needed to think carefully, even when the honour had been great. So the two men were in agreement.
"Listen, I'm travelling tomorrow to Scotland..." He then announced, surprising even himself of such abrupt openness. He wondered and wished he'd be a fly on the wall to see his father's face. Because there was a moment of silence from his father's side which carried enough nervous tension for Terry to reign back his enthusiasm, and extinguished it with enough bitterness for his father to realise that the ground both and he and Terry had to cover as a father and son, was equal if not more than the distance that separated London from Edinburgh.
"Not to worry Father, I wasn't planning to bump into your delightful wife..."
There was a sigh of relief from the other side of the line, though not audible but Terry knew.
"I'm travelling on the West Coast, to the isle of Barra to be more precise."
"Oh?!" He had exclaimed, now truly intrigued but Terry didn't leave him to finish the question he had started asking. Whether or not this had to do something with a certain someone...
"Please, I didn't mention it to open a conversation about it... just take it as a piece of mindless information Father, I just happened to be in a mood of sharing, ok?"
And he cut him at that. Within a flash, Terry had raised the walls and had returned to his dark tower where only himself lived and no one else. He bid his father goodnight and left the possibility of phoning him upon his return open, since he had bothered him with his news in the first place. To which last statement the Duke replied he hadn't been bothered at all and would be waiting to hear from him once again.
"Take care Terry..." Were his final words which delayed the descent of the phone receiver by Terry, back to its place by a few seconds.
He lifted his head, looked around at the couples and the groups of friends having gathered at the tables in the dining room. He wondered what would Candy could be doing in the cabin. He knew he had made her upset. Having refused to stay, leaving her alone, not offering much of an explanation.
He would though, at some point. He knew she had questions. He wasn't going to keep her in the dark. Although to be fair, he had already told her in the past about Christian and she had refused point blank to believe him. She had erupted at that instance, enraged because he had meddled with her life, her relationship with Christian and the reasons were clear for her. Every single time, she took the same stand. For her, everything Terry did was to discredit Christian, to show her how bad he had been for her; not once respecting that she had chosen him as her companion, her partner, her lover.
Was she right? If he surpassed his male ego, yes, she was. But, even if he had to grit his teeth and accept Christian as Candy's choice, it didn't mean he was fine about it. He'd never be fine about it. Only for her own sake, he'd be civil.
For those two weeks...
and then just as fate brought them together, fate would take them apart once again. Just like the tide.
So, yes, he made her angry, for not playing nice and gallant. He would... in time.
The dining room door opened and he turned his eyes towards the it. His eyes widened, filled completely with her image, an emerald vision of her. He felt warm to the collar. That dress, barely covered anything. It fell down to the floor and floated as she walked with confident strides to the bar. Hugged her hips tight. The spaghetti straps and the thin material...she was braless. The air felt thick inside his throat.
She ordered a gin and tonic from the barman. Gave him a wide smile when he served her the drink. Took the glass, had a sip while her eyes scanned the area, till she saw him, looking back at her with not the most approving stares. The hair on her arms stood upright as if electricity went up her spine. She pressed her lips. Had one more sip from her drink. Surpassing all the feelings for Terry, she singled out her anger towards him and fanned it with enough fire inducing thoughts, enough to have an arsonist proud. She wasn't going to allow him the pleasure of making her feel weak on her knees.
Took her glass, let her stare linger a little bit more and singled out a table on the other side of the carriage where she wouldn't have to look at him. After a brief conversation with the bartender whether they were still serving food, she walked towards that particular table and sat down with her back facing Terry. She took a cigarette out and lit it while she opened the menu, trying to focus on what to choose for dinner.
For a good ten minutes, Terry kept staring at her bare firm back, the nape of her neck, her straight spine. Her body had retained the athletic elements of her teenage years.
He hadn't called her Tarzan for no good reason. She could climb up a tree and jump from branch to branch within the blink of an eye. For him, a boy who had grew up within the stifling, rigid etiquette of an aristocracy that was dying a slow death, Candy was just as fascinating as the exotic monkeys of the zoo.
She hated his teasing with fervour. But he spoke of the truth. Although it sounded a derogatory enough name he'd use for her, it was as equally admiring, even if he had tried his best to hide it from her.
The moment the waiter came and left with her order, he had spent every single ounce of restraint he had managed to gather. All kinds of thoughts had sprung inside his mind, half of them way over past the line of decency. He ordered a third glass of whiskey. He was burning to go at her table and yet, he stayed glued at his own, drawing some perverse satisfaction from knowing she knew he was just a few tables away from her.
He lit a cigarette and kept observing her, not caring much about the rest of the people who were throwing glances over his way. He let her have her dinner in peace, unaware that every bite she'd take was going down with great difficulty from her part. She had sat down specifically with the plan not to give him the satisfaction to watch her face to face and she had regretted it greatly since she was certain the intensity of his stare at her back was burning holes into her bare skin.
She managed to eat half of her dinner, some chicken recipe with salad when she patted her lips with the napkin, while getting worked up with herself for letting him get to her. Asked for one more glass of wine.
All of a sudden, she felt a jacket covering her back, thrown on her shoulders. Terry sat, jacket less, opposite her, brow up, burning blue stare fixed square inside her eyes.
"What are you trying to achieve?" He asked her straight, his voice barely masking the frustration.
The waiter brought her the glass of wine she had ordered.
"Can you bring one more whiskey too?" Terry asked the waiter.
"The gentleman doesn't need any more whiskey." She turned and said to the waiter who smiled awkwardly wanting nothing more than stay well away from that lovers tiff which was unravelling in front of his embarrassed stand.
He turned back to her, gaze like arrow.
"Gentleman can do as he pleases." He said without taking his eyes from her, waiter still standing next to them, undecided whether he should leave them on the own devices or not.
"And so does the lady, then." She says and stands up, takes the jacket of her shoulders, makes it into a ball and throws it back at him. Opens her wallet and takes a bank note out. "That must cover dinner and my drinks, waiter." Says back to the young guy with a voice sweet like honey, takes her wine glass on one hand and and her bag on the other and starts to walk out the dining area.
She felt her whole body burning as she was walking back to their cabin, not caring whether or not he was following her. Her heart had reached her mouth, and her skin tingled by the adrenaline that run inside her blood stream. She reached the door. Having both hands full with her bag and the glass of wine, she stopped for a moment. She knelt down to leave the glass on the floor before taking the key from inside her bag. She heard footsteps, the door opening behind her.
"Get in." She heard Terry's voice deep, abrupt, ordering her. She picked up the glass and came in behind him. He closed the door and turned to her; his self-control hanging by a thread so thin, you'd think the great monsoons over the Indian plains were just about to be unleashed in a matter of seconds.
"What do you want from me Candy?" He said to her, while he turned the focus of his anger to his jacket which he threw with force towards the sofa.
But she was having none of it, she wasn't going to back down. Enough was enough of the tears. Having a couple of drinks inside her, had made her bolder.
"What do I want from you Terry?" She yelled back at him. And laughed. "Let me remind you that I didn't ask for you to be here, Terry. So it's not what I want from you. But what you seek from me!"
"Don't flatter yourself Candy." He snarked back.
"Oh really?" She replied, acting surprised. "You appear here, saying on orders of Christian, and then you leave me alone in the room and you disappear as if I'm some sort of a leper you need to be as far away as possible."
Of course Candy had been right. But he wasn't going to give her the pleasure of admitting it. There wasn't something he could admit to her anyways.
Could he say to her he kept away from her, because he wanted her so bad, he didn't know or had even thought of how to spend those two weeks together, without driving himself insane by having the woman he desired for TEN YEARS, next to him; the unrequited love of his life, belonging to some other guy, he thought not that much of, and to whom in a moment of delirious state due to having been beaten, he had agreed to act as her bodyguard on a trip to an island so far away from everyone, you'd think they were the only two people on earth?
For fuck's sake! He wanted to just grab her and kiss the daylights out of her. To kiss her to the point she forgot of everything and everyone, to bring her back to where they had left each other, to those fucking stairs where their life together had stopped to exist. To kiss her until there is no one else apart from them two. To kiss her like it was the last minute of their lives.
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Candy. Out of all people, I think you lost that privilege." He turned and said to her instead.
"Wait, what?" She said, not believing him. "Are you punishing me for not having waited for you? What did you expect me to do? Turn myself to thy nunnery?"
"Don't push me Candy."
"I'm not your Ophelia, Terry..."
"I'm not the seventeen-year-old Candy either...Terry."
"Oh believe me, I know Candy. I'm fucking tired of you telling me." He snapped back.
Candy closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him her insistence came from her need to bring him to the presence, to pull him from the past, to want to love her as she was now. Was it such a sin, she had moved on and had changed her life so dramatically in an effort to put the past behind her?
"Christian said you have your heart in the right place..."
He turned his eyes towards her. Surprise overtook his anger. "Can we please start again?"
He didn't say anything to that. She insisted.
"Not avoiding each other..."
She extended her hand towards him. He could nothing but go along with her suggestion. Despite having still a lot to go through, if he wanted to see them both reaching the other side of this adventure, reach the end of those two weeks alive and in one piece, he had to admit defeat and give in, even if had to exert as much self-control as he could manage.
"Not avoiding each other..." He repeated and gave his hand. Took hers into his and squeezed it. In another real, he would have pulled her into his arms right there and then but in this reality then they had to start again. Even if that meant trying to build a bridge, a ten-year-old bridge that could if it worked, bring them closer together.