Page 39 of Saint Baptiste 2

“What did? Being left in the middle of the night?” I questioned with a hint of sarcasm. Humph.

I didn’t leave in the middle of the night like that out of spite. I didn’t leave like that because he’d left me so many times. I honestly left because we had an agreement. I didn’t want to hurt Saint. Not after the night we shared. We were good. Pandora’s got crazy but we were equally at fault. The night was… beautiful. I left because I couldn’t stand to hurt myself anymore. Leaving was more about me than it was about him. But as I stared into his eyes, stealing pieces of him, I realized, me leaving had done what he did to me all of those nights, to him.

It was funny....

How life worked.

He stopped. And because he was holding my hand, I did too. He turned to face me, and we stood in the hallway, eye to eye in silence for what felt like… minutes but couldn’t be no more than a few seconds. Time was weird. Had never been weird like that with him before. It was his eyes. They were easy to get lost in. Today especially because I could see so much. More than I ever had before. I could see it. The misery. Maybe he had been miserable. Just… maybe a little. Could he had been? Miserable without me? How? He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t give a fuck about me.

Delusion.

That’s what it was. For me to believe it could be anything else would make me insane. Would make me… stupid. He couldn’t be miserable without me. I had to face the facts. Couldn’t believe the things I felt because love made shit hazy.

“I left you,” he stated.

“I didn’t—.”I stopped myself from giving him an explanation. Wondered if I should tell him that it wasn’t my intention to hurt him. Wondered if I should give him the courtesy he never gave me when I’d awake to an empty bed. At least when I left him, he wasn’t in the bed with me. At least he didn’t have to turn over to nothing.

I didn’t say anything. Just crossed my arms over my chest and looked away.

“Damn,” he breathed out.

“Damn what?” I asked, that sarcasm in my voice a little louder than before.

“I really fucked up,” he said. “I—damn.”

Why did I give a fuck?

Why did I have sympathy for him? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything from me. But…. I felt like he deserved the truth.

“Saint,” I breathed out. “I didn’t leave you as pay back. I honestly left because we had an agreement.”

“The agreement was sunrise,” he pointed out for a second time. “But even that was too generous.”

I raised my eyebrows. Looked up at him and was a little speechless. Who in the fuck was this? I didn’t recognize him. Well. I did. He was familiar. I met him once. Didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Saint today was Saint from Pandora’s. Both faced with the same consequence. Losing me. Losing access to me. I didn’t see a man who was miserable because he missed me. There was a shift in perspective. I saw a man who was desperate. Desperate at holding on to me in any kind of way, just to get to the part of me he really missed.

What was his excuse for not calling me though? Hmm? I was… I was worthless to him. Saint didn’t give a fuck about me. Saint didn’t care about me. There was no remorse. What the fuck did he mean I was too generous?

Nigga.

Please.

“Miserable for eight days but didn’t call once. The math…ain’t adding up, cheri,” I joked with a quick twirl. Twirled to get out of his grip. Twirled to hide just how hurt I was. Twirled to hide the pain he already noticed. Saint just… he knew things. He saw things before I was even able to reveal them fully.

That was why I hated when he looked at me. Hated for him to stare for too long. He was a fucking thief. Stole pieces of me every chance he got. Even in fainting glances. Hated how good he could read me. Hated how he just knew me. What to say. How to say it. Where to touch. What to touch. For how long.

His magic had no bounds.

He grabbed me. “I did call. Once. That morning. I was blocked and?—”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief and again, tried to pull away. “Liar?—“

“For the first time with these feelings, I’m finally telling the truth, amou?—“

“Feelings? Saint, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit!” I yelled.

Thank God the kids were with their grandparents. Thank God Sienna and them were further down the hall. Thank God, he pulled me away. Because. I was crumbling. Against my will. Just… fucking crumbling. I hated him. Hated him for making me crumble. Hated Him for making me feel forbidden things. Hated Him for doing this to me, knowing I couldn’t have what I wanted.

Him as in God. I hated God. Tomorrow I would regret that. But today… I hated Him for doing this. The hold Saint had on me wasn’t just crazy... this... with him was gut-wrenching. It was voracious. It was... diabolical. Because why? Why put him in my path? Why make him a part of my story just for us to end like this? Just for me to experience that... magic and then nothing at all for the rest of my life? To make it beautiful, but ugly and toxic at the same time?

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