Page 61 of Roan

“Why’d you lie to me?” Can you hear the hesitation in my voice? I can’t even bring myself to look at him when I ask it.

Roan sighs, hanging his head. He shakes it back and forth. “Why does it matter?” His words barely heard over the waves lapping at our feet. “And technically, I never lied to you. I just didn’t correct Tiller’s assumption.”

I stare at him. I’m not angry. Not anymore. I think I’m more hurt than anything because I reacted without questioning him. “Yes, but you let me believe it.”

“Fuck, Ophelia.” He throws his hands up in the air, his face adapting a sudden hard edge. “I don’t know, okay? It is what it is. It’s over with, I fucked up, and so did you. Why do we have to keep going back to this bullshit?” he shouts, annoyed with me.

While I can certainly understand his annoyance, the fact that he’s shouting at me stuns me and then the girl in me gets mad. “You know what, you kidnapped me, asshole.”

I start to walk away from him. but he grabs me by the hand and yanks me back to his chest, his expression a mixture of anger and desperation. “I did so you’d see that you’re making a big fucking mistake marrying that guy. You love me and you know it. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t fight with me. If you didn’t, your cheeks wouldn’t heat anytime I touch you and you wouldn’t be dripping wet at the idea of me fucking you right here on this beach like I want to.”

I want to lash out at him and shove him away from me. I want to break the contact, sever the connection we have, but I can’t. It’s impossible. He controls me that much. Instead, I melt in his arms and start to cry. He holds me close, his love absolute.

I think about the way his eyes look when he first opens them in the morning, the intensity of his piercing blues. I think about Paris and the weight of his touch. The way it felt to know he loved me, the taste of that first kiss. I think about how capable he is of destruction and the devious curved smile that sends a flutter to my chest. I think about the time in his car when he touched me for the first time and told me, “I can ruin you for every other man out there.” At the time, I didn’t understand the meaning, but his words held true. He succeeded. He destroyed me in ways even I don’t understand.

I ache for him and that should be my answer.

“Come on, baby.” Brushing his nose back and forth under my chin, his words are just as breathless. “Don’t marry him,” he pleads, his words dripping with need.

I don’t say anything because I don’t trust my words, but he gave me a reason, just as he promised.

Are you confused? Are you annoyed with me? Well, if you’re not, you might be now because the next morning, Roan takes me back to Brentwood like he promised.

He didn’t pressure me, he didn’t beg, he simply said, “It’s your decision, little girl.” And walked away from me.

Saturday morning I’m unable to tell Agustin I can’t marry him. Do you see me there? White dress, blotchy face, black hair all over the place?

I’m clearly… confused.

I’ve also yelled at everyone this morning, including Devyn to the point where I made two of the bridesmaids cry. Here I sit, alone in a room with views of the Pacific Ocean trying to think of what to do next. The view? Breathtaking. The San Ysidro Ranch sits at the foothills of the Santa Ynez mountain range in Montecita. If you have no idea where that is, it’s minutes outside downtown Santa Barbara and costs a college tuition to rent for the day.

I think to myself, how’d I let it get this far? Why’d I even come here today if the thought of walking down that aisle and tying myself to Agustin in every way, pulls at the ever-present knot in my chest?

The question remains, why can’t I tell Agustin? I can’t tell him because deep down inside me, there’s a scared little girl afraid to let a man down with the same sense of rejection she felt growing up. Agustin loves me. He treats me well and I don’t want to break his heart, because I’ve been there. I know that feeling of rejection and it terrifies me to project that onto someone else. How can I willingly break his heart and make him feel not good enough?

You might go as far as to wonder if he noticed I disappeared for a night? He did. And when I returned home, I didn’t say anything to Agustin as to what I’d been doing with my mom. Trying to pass it off as a mother daughter weekend, I told him we had been doing some last-minute wedding details. I don’t know if he believed me, but he also didn’t press for details. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

And here we are. Today. A vow will be made. A promise to love, cherish, and believe. A ring will be exchanged, and a kiss will be placed. It means something to me, but when I picture Roan standing next to his bike, the warm breeze off the Pacific Ocean and the peaceful lull of the waves crashing against the shore, I can’t remember the promise I’m set to make because it means nothing since it will be promised to the wrong man.

I knew the moment I saw Agustin, he was special. He’s the kind of guy women only dream of meeting, let alone marrying. He’s handsome, comes from an amazing family, is honest, sincere, loyal, beautiful… I could go on and on about all the ways he’s perfect. He’s nothing like Roan. He’s not cold, or arrogant, or looking for the next adrenaline rush. He’s friends with everyone, can’t cook for shit, but orders takeout like nobody’s business. He thinks motorcycles are death machines, does the speed limit everywhere he goes and hates drugs. He pays for the coffee of the person behind him every day, frowns at tattoos, wears skinny jeans, and reads history novels for fun. He loves his parents, adores his sister, sighs every time he watches a sunset and wakes up with a smile.

In reality, sweet, stable, loving… and, well, boring. But the truth remains, he’s not perfect for me. I needed destructive, rugged, and dangerous.

Where’s the guy who walks around half-naked, has his dick pierced, steals cars for laughs, and picks fights with me just to get me angry because it turns him on when I’m raging mad? Where’s the one who sleeps until noon, wakes up with a frown and won’t talk to you until he’s had his coffee? The one covered in stories of survival plastered on his skin, metal plates in his bones and thinks one day, flu shots are going to turn everybody into zombies. That guy, he can’t be bothered with logistics of anything, shows up late everywhere he goes, yet successfully runs an apparel company with his brothers and stays up until 2:00 a.m. to teach the neighbor kid how to backflip his dirt bike. That too-tough, too-obscene lunatic who launches his dirt bike in the air and stands on the handlebars, that hellraiser isn’t safe. He’s destructive, arrogant, and nothing I need, but everything I want.

I’m doing the right thing. My head tells me it’s right. My heart tells me I’m so very wrong. I look out at the beach, so similar, but so very different from the one in Mexico.

Mom finds me hours before the wedding, alone, in my wedding dress sitting on the balcony crying. “Baby, shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she asks, peeking her head outside.

I brush away the tears. “I’m ready, just enjoying the quiet.”

You can’t hide tears or sadness from your mother. You can try, but she knows you better than anyone and my mom is just the same. “Oh, baby.” She drops to her knees beside me, capturing my hands between hers. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I cry, admitting finally who holds my heart.

Taking my face between her hands, she forces me to look at her. “You mean with the wedding?”

I nod. “I don’t know if I love him as much as I love….” But then I hesitate because I haven’t admitted to my parents that I love Roan.

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