I nodded without a word, stepping to the side so he could walk past me. Technically, this apartment was still his, and it didn't feel right not to let him into his own property.
I spent more time than necessary closing the door and even took the trouble of quadruple-locking it. I needed the time to make sure that I didn't break down, which I was tempted to do at the sight – the familiar scent – of him.
When I turned around, he was standing next to the windows, his back to me.
Another painful squeeze of the chest. I knew him so well now that this pose was familiar to me. Constantijin always used the scenery to hide his thoughts and feelings.
He asked, "You thought I was Alyx?"
"Yeah. She drops by often." To comfort me. But of course, I didn't tell him that. What would be the point?
When I sat on one of the cushions, Constantijin walked back to the living area and sat across me.
I would have offered him drinks...if I had them. But grocery shopping was his forte, not mine. The reminder made my heart ache in a bittersweet fashion.
"Yanna," he suddenly said unevenly, "would you please come back?"
The words made me want to cry.
I touched my face.
Apparently, I already was.
"I heard you knew about what happened to my mom. And what happened to me." His mouth twisted as if the memories alone already tasted bad.
"Constantijin---" He lifted his hand, and I fell silent.
"Let me finish. I'm sure you two think I'm fucked up because I don't want to be like my father. And the funny thing was, I thought the same. Then you came and I was happy --- too happy. When you told me you love me, it sounded right. Too right. I panicked."
I could only shake my head back at him. "You p-panicked?"
Self-loathing crossed his face. "Stupid, isn't it? But it's true. I panicked. And in the end, I wasn't like my father at all. I ended up … I ended up being like my mom." Constantijin swallowed, and when he spoke, there was torment in his voice that I couldn't ignore. "I pushed you away. The more you said you loved me, the happier and more scared I was, and the more I pushed you away."
I started to cry, covering my face with my hands. I couldn't bear looking at him anymore as he continued in a ragged voice, "I … subconsciously thought it was safer to push you away before I let you love me. And then you were the one to leave me first."
I cried harder at the words because I already knew where this was leading, and it hurt. It goddamn hurt so much because it was too late.
"People see me as the billionaire---the playboy who could have any woman in the world, but I knew you were different. You saw through the fucking façade and when I thought of that, it made me a coward. Because if you take away the money, what was left? I know that fucking boy is more man that I am." His voice broke as if it took everything in him to admit that. "Yanna, I know if you gave him the chance he wouldn't hesitate to tell you he was in love with you. Like I did. Like how much---"
"No," I whispered through my tears.
He ignored that. Of course he did because he was Constantijin Kastein, and he didn't take ‘no' for an answer. He pulled my hands away from my face, and his voice felt too close as he said with painful intensity, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I'm so fucking sorry it took me so long to realize it but---"
"Don't," I choked out, finally looking at him. The brightness of his silvery gaze hurt, nearly blinding me, because it was promising and hoping for things that could have been mine, that could have been his – ours – but now it was impossible.
I swallowed several times, trying to get past the tears, as I said, "It's too late."
Constantijin froze.
Then he started talking, fast, desperately, his beautiful face taking on a determined look. "No. It's not too late. I love you – that's all that should matter. It should fix things---"
"No, it doesn't," I told him painfully. "Because I loved you and it didn't fix things, did it?"
Constantijin was pale. "Loved me?" he echoed hoarsely. "Wh-what do you mean?" It was the first time I heard him speaking with anything less than absolute confidence, and that hurt. God, why did this all hurt so bad?
"You don't love me anymore?"
I could only stare at him, unable to say anything. A violent storm of emotions darkened his eyes, making me catch my breath. "Con---"
"You like him now? Is that it? He became your fucking Mr. Fix It for good?"
A gasp was torn out of me when I realized he knew about that, too.
"No," I sobbed the word out because the look of betrayal on Constantijin's hard and beautiful face was too much.
"Then what? Tell me," he said almost furiously. "Yanna, please. I'm begging you." His voice lowered to a choked whisper. "Show me how to fix things. I can be … I can be like him, too."
"Constantijin, no---" I couldn't bear hearing him speak as if he was nothing good. Because now, he was making me realize he wasn't all that bad.
"Yanna, please."
My hands went to my mouth.
"Make me your Mr. Fix It."
Oh God.
Crying so hard I couldn't see past the tears, I fumbled for his hands, squeezing them hard. "Don't get me wrong, Constantijin. There is no one – no other man in my life. And don't talk about yourself like you're nobody." The teasing smile I gave him wobbled on my lips as I said, "You're the Netherlands' #1 Playboy. One of the Three Pussketeers. Remember?"
Constantijin answered raggedly, "Then … choose me."
"I can't." I struggled past the pain as I tried to make him understand. "What you did … I know you didn't … " God, I wasn't making sense at all.
"Yanna---"
I said in a rush, "Constantijin, you hurt me too much, and now I don't know if I can ever risk going back and let you hurt me again."
"But I won't," he argued brokenly. "I promise you, Yanna. I love you and it's for real. It won't change."
I slowly pulled my hands away. "I just need time, okay?" My shoulders lifted, expressing something I couldn't put into words. "Time and space, okay? But I'm not asking you to wait."
The words sounded strange even to my ears. It made me imagine all those women – those millions of women who were so much more beautiful than I was, more forgiving than I was---all of them would have been more than happy to crawl into his bed to replace me.
More tears fell. I was so tired of crying, so tired of this---this long, dragged-out goodbye, but I just couldn't stop. I said in a small voice, "I'll understand if you think I'm so full of myself, thinking that someone like you would wait for someone like me---"
"Oh God, no," Constantijin groaned and then he was hauling me into his arms. And I let him take me onto his lap, let him wrap his arms around me so tightly they were like chains again---I let him do all that because, heaven help me, I missed this – I missed him – too much.
"Did I hurt you so much you started doubting your own worth?"
Hearing him speak the truth – realizing that he still understood me too well – made me feel ashamed. I started to struggle, but all I managed to do was do what he wanted. He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
"I love you," he repeated harshly. "I was goddamn lucky to have you and I just wish I knew that before it was too late."
Then he slowly let me go, lowering me to the couch as he twisted around to kneel in front of me.
I wiped the tears away and managed a smile. "Thanks for telling me that," I said quietly.
He smiled back, bitterly. "It's the least I could do, don't you think?"
"I think … I think you'd be wonderful for s-someone else---"
"No!" Constantijin's voice shook. "I'll wait. No matter how long it takes. I'll make you believe that I love you and deserve you."
"You don't have to---"
"If there's even the smallest drop of love for me inside you, if you at least do not want me to fucking die … let me think I have a fucking reason to wait."
Constantijin gazed at me, his eyes asking a question that even he couldn't make himself ask.
And I could only gaze back at him, unable to give him an answer.
Constantijin laughed, and it wasn't a joyful sound. "I guess I better go then," he said almost clumsily. A smile that didn't reach his eyes twisted his lips as he came to his feet.
As I walked him to the door, Constantijin suddenly spun around, saying hoarsely, "Just please don't tell me it's too late, Yanna. Give me a chance, okay?"
I didn't want to lie to him. "Good night," I said softly before closing the door.
Lesson #15
Your billionaire is not the only one who makes mistakes.