Page 86 of Blind Devotion
“No.”
“Because of what happened between us?” More silence. I pulled off him. Holy fuck on a cracker, I was this close to blowing a second gasket.
“You’ll leave me.” The confession ripped out of him with a rasp.
I closed my eyes, focusing on his shallow, ragged breaths. On how rigid he felt. He really believed that. It scared me. What could have been this bad? What had he done?
“I doubt that, but you have to accept that that’s my choice.”
“I can’t. I won’t. Don’t ask me to. Just drop it, Tessa, no good will come of it.”
“That’s not how a relationship works.” His warmth vanished, then his footsteps stormed through the room. “Adrien? Adrien, where are you going?”
I barely finished the question before the door creaked and quickly slammed shut. Then there was quiet, broken only by my inhales and exhales.
He didn’t.
“Adrien?”
He had. He flipping walked out on me. What the hell was wrong with him? I grunted a scream, slamming my fist against his built-in cabinets. A panel clicked open, something swished over a shelf, followed by a subdued thud.
I was ready to lay waste to his office just to see how he felt about that. Maybe then he’d understand what he was doing to me. Not knowing was killing me. I was trying to keep an open mind, but the more time that went by, the more my imagination went crazy with scenarios. He cheated on me after the engagement was formally announced. I’d fallen in love withsomeone else. My family was dead, and he was the cause. None of those options felt right, but he wasn’t giving me anything either. The edges of panic were swirling my thoughts. Why couldn’t he see what this was doing to me?
I teetered in place, my heart racing. Is this why we weren’t together? Because he hid things from me? That, I could almost understand. How much longer was I willing to put up with it now? How long had I accepted it before I called it quits?
The worst part about this was that it was also on me. If I could only just remember, I’d have the answers. I wouldn’t need to rely on him.
I needed to figure out what I wanted more—answers or Adrien. But not here. Not in his space. Not in our bedroom either. Maybe not even in this house. This place felt like home. It was the place I remembered best and where I felt most comfortable, and yet it was also his. If I was going to decide how damaging his secrecy was to us, I needed to leave it for a bit.
Maybe it was a good thing that my conservatory audition in Lyon was coming up in two days. Even if he and I ended up sharing a hotel room, at least I’d have the time I needed to get my head on straight on neutral ground.
I slumped against his cabinet, suddenly exhausted from our arguing and where my thoughts were headed. I drifted toward where I knew the exit to be, not paying much attention. By following his cabinets and then the wall, I knew my path was clear. Adrien made sure of that after the one and only time I tripped on a rug. After that, he went over the layout of every room in the house with me so I knew where everything was and could make a quick getaway if need be.
That was love, but I already knew he loved me. That wasn’t the issue.
My sandaled foot kicked something plushy and soft. I bent down to retrieve it, shuffling forward a bit. A stuffed animal.What was this doing here? As far as I knew, no one staying in this house had children. Short fur and small, it was only slightly bigger than my hand. My fingers flitted over it. Stubby legs, wide body, short cylindrical tail. Something about it tugged at me.
My breathing shallowed as I made my way to its face, to its eyes. I felt a ridge of rhinestones over the stitching of its thin-lined eyes, pointed in a V over its muzzle. Gilly. My heart soared. He had kept her. All these years and through whatever separated us, he kept the stuffed animal that had started everything between us.
I held it to my chest and straightened, bumping my head on the underside of a panel door. Shit, that hurt. The back of my head smarted.
Inside the cabinet, an item clapped onto the shelf. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and clasped Gilly between my knees to leave my other hand free. She’d come from in there. I couldn’t help my curiosity. What else had he kept?
A picture frame lay face down, probably what had fallen. No matter how blurry the photo was, I remembered the feel of the seashell frame. I’d made it. The photo, unless he’d changed it, I knew it too. Me, as a kid, held up under his arm. I’d picked it. It was of a trip to the San Mateo County Fair nine years ago when Adrien came to visit me. I’d had the same photo framed in my bedroom and stared at it often. We were laughing in it, my arms spread wide like Rose’s flying scene inTitanicas he tickled me, Adrien’s grinning face tilted down at me.
I smiled and skidded it back on the shelf.
Next, I found origami pieces: a lion and butterfly set. Random items I’d bought him over the years with my allowance. A bowl with papers, each folded into different basic shapes, regular trifold or in two, or in bizarre patterns. I laughed, remembering the phase I’d gone through at school where notes with classmates were exchanged, folded into all types of shapes—from makeshift envelopes to squares to hearts. It was my little ode to Adrien’s hobby.
Lastly, there was a sealed envelope. It was strange since all the other notes lay opened or piled together. Why was this one apart, propped against the shelf wall? It was bulky, too, with something other than just paper inside. The envelope didn’t crinkle like it would from frequent touch. It was crisp, almost as if Adrien had received it and placed it here immediately. Out of sight, out of mind.
I found the crease of the envelope’s edge and slipped my nail beneath it. This was a breach of privacy, but I just knew this held the answers I needed. The glued seal ripped. Inside, I found a letter and an origami lion. My breathing stuttered. Tears swept down my cheeks. I didn’t need braille to read this letter because I knew every word it contained. I’d spent hours composing each one. I’d cried. I’d raged. I’d gone cold.
*
Persetta – seventeen years old / Adrien – twenty-two and a half years old
Dear Adrien,
