For Angelo(81)

Arriving at the conference in the middle of a famous politician’s talk, Angelo did his best to draw as little attention to himself as possible. The dimly lit surroundings helped to hide his identity, and he walked swiftly to the first vacant seat he saw.

He sat back, listening absently to the speaker, and a minute later, the vacant seat beside him was occupied.

“Excuse me—”

Angelo stiffened.

He looked up, unable to believe what he was hearing. But he also knew he couldn’t be mistaken. That voice was one he heard every night in his dreams.

And he was right.

It was her.

She appeared unaware of his identity, and he realized why when he saw that her glasses had slipped down to her nose.

She sat beside him, and Angelo’s entire form tensed. Half of him urged Angelo to go, the other half of him had become surprisingly…masochistic.

Just one more second to inhale her scent, just one more second to feel her this close—

Just one more second to pretend that they were still together.

Her head was bent over her bag, and she was fumbling for her things.

He wanted to offer his help but he forced himself to shut up, knowing that the illusion would shatter the moment she realized he was beside her.

“Finally,” he heard her sigh.

She had her phone in her hand and then she was busily typing.

He read the words and saw that she was taking down notes for the talk.

Had she gone back to school? Was she doing this for her family’s law firm? Was she still single?

So many fucking questions, and yet all he could do was force himself to keep still in his seat, his gaze straight ahead. He wanted to stare at her but forced himself not to. If he stared at her too long, sooner or later she would notice him.

And leave.

He didn’t want that.

He needed just one more second to pretend, one more second that he wished could last forever—

Every second that passed made his desperation grow.

He reached for his phone in his pocket, wanting to text the speaker and bribe him to talk for two more hours. Goddammit, he would give the man his entire fortune if he could keep Lane seated beside him forever.

But in the end, he kept his phone in his pocket. The screen could illuminate his face and give his identity away, and that he was unwilling to risk.

She was still typing, still listening attentively, and he found himself listening to the cadence of her breath. It was the most beautiful sound on earth, the sound of his sole reason of existence, and his fingers tightened on the armrest.

God, he wanted to hold her to him so damn much.

God, make this second last.

But God didn’t listen to sinners like him, and Angelo felt sick as he heard the speaker conclude his talk.

Any moment now the lights would open.

He should go now.

If he didn’t want her to see him—

If he really loved her the way she deserved, he shouldn’t force her to relive the shameful agony of being with him.

He started to stand up.

The lights switched open.

He heard her intake of breath.

And Angelo knew it was too late.

Telling himself that he would play it cool, he looked down at her, ready to ask her how she was.

But the words died in his throat the moment their eyes met.

Terror.

She was terrified of him.

Angelo was stunned.

He had been ready for her to be furious, scornful – maybe the foolish, selfish part of him had even hoped to see her in pain because it would mean that she still loved him.

But this –

Lane being afraid of him—

So goddamn afraid her face had completely lost color and her body shaking so damn hard it was as if she had developed a temperature in a second.

“Lane—”

She flinched.

He was aghast. Was he different to her now because they had broken up? Because she believed he didn’t love her?

“Lane?”

She shot to her feet and started backing away.

He knew he should let her go, but he just couldn’t.

“It’s alright—”

Her steps quickened and she started bumping into other lawyers, but she didn’t even turn to apologize. It was as if she had to keep her gaze on him the entire time, as if she didn’t trust him not to stab her in the back the moment she turned.

“Lane—”

“P-Please go away.”

He reached for her, and she shuddered like he was about to hurt her.

Angelo’s arms fell to his sides. What the hell was happening?

He threw his Rolex away.

But she kept backing away.

He threw his wallet out and his mobile phone. “Not rich anymore,” he tried to joke unevenly, but the mere sound of his voice only seemed to add to her terror.

“Please.” Her voice was thin and shaking. “P-please g-go away.”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t.” And he realized then it was true. He had no strength to let her go for the second time. He started for her—