He smiled, and then he gave me another surprise when he murmured, "It's nice to see you smile again."
Biting my lip, I changed the subject again since my eyes had started to itch. "I've been meaning to ask you. Whatever was it that you told Arian to make her leave that day?"
Drake appeared embarrassed, which intrigued me even more.
"Is it that bad?"
He shrugged, discomfort written all over his face.
"Can't you give me a clue?" I teased.
Drake cleared his throat. "Let's just say someone overheard her offering me something I didn't want." He paused. "And she wouldn't want everyone to know about it."
My lips parted in shock. Did he mean...? Glancing at Drake's unreadable face, I gulped. Oh, he really did mean it like that. And he had refused. The thought was bittersweet and I said without thinking, "I wish Constantijin was like you, too."
Drake said in a low whisper, "Why want someone who could be like me when I can be yours?"
"Drake." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry at the familiar gleam in his eyes, now burning more intensely.
We heard a crashing sound and both of us turned just to see Constantijin swiftly leaving the cafeteria.
The woman he had bumped into stammered out her apology, her gaze darting between Constantijin's retreating back and the shattered pieces of glass on the floor.
My chest felt funny, but I ignored it.
Too late.
Just too late.
The words were my anchor. I clung to them every time I even considered thinking of Constantijin, using the words to drive even the smallest thoughts of him away. When my doorbell rang that night, I went to open it with a sigh, knowing it was probably one of the three – George, Alyx, or even Daria, who was finally back from her honeymoon – checking up on me to be sure I hadn't committed suicide out of sheer heartbreak.
"Alyx, how many times---"
It was Constantijin, looking too sexy and gorgeous for my own good in a shirt and jeans. And then he took out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
I blinked. The flowers were...close to wilting.
Seeing the question in my eyes, Constantijin's lips briefly curved into a smile. "I picked them from the garden at the back. I didn't want to risk you giving them back."
I took it with shaky hands, clearing my throat as I said lamely, "Thanks."
Constantijin exhaled. "May I come in?"
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 to close 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 bittersweet fashion.
"Yanna," he suddenly said unevenly, "could 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 and I panicked."
I could only shake my head back at him. "You p-panicked?"
Self-loathing crossed over 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 scared I was, and the more I pushed you away."
I started to cry, covering my face with my hands but 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 to, 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 was 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, 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 into a choked whisper. "Show me how to fix things. I can be … I can be like him, too."
"Constantijin, no---" I couldn't bear him to speaking 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 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 letting 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.