“Why would I?” I was starting to get annoyed.
Cherry looked at me with a baffled expression on her face. It was like I said the dumbest thing in the world to her and that was annoying the shit out of me.
She then said with hands raised, “Dylan, you know you can trust me. You have to trust me because I freaking love you.”
Those were the words I never wanted to hear. I never wanted her to utter them because I knew I could never say them back.
“Don’t say that,” I stuttered as I struggled with the words. Even when I knew I had to be cold and ruthless I found it hard because it was her. “Please don’t ever say that.”
“I know you have feelings for me, too. Why won’t you just say you love me?” she asked as tears began flowing down her cheeks. “I know you do!”
I shook my head as I denied the emotions swirling in my chest, “No, I don’t! We have nothing in common. You don’t even know who I am.”
“I don’t know anything about you because you won’t let me in!” she shouted back. “You always divert the topic when it cycles towards you or your past. You avoid talking about you like the plague.”
With a heavy heart I shook my head and slammed a fist on the table hoping it would shut her up, “Look, Cherry, you’re here because I’m lonely. I like you as a companion and nothing more. I don’t love you. I just want a companion and someone to fuck. You’re my sex partner, my fuck-buddy, but nothing more than that. Let that sink into your head.”
She shook her head and violently refuted what I said, “No, no, that can’t be true! I won’t let it be true! I love you, damn it.”
“You’re being a fool,” I told her as I stared straight into her eyes. “We met over business talks and I fucked you again and again simply because I knew you love it. I found your diary and I took advantage of the situation. That’s all.”
“Ugh, you fucking disgust me!” she snapped back and I saw for a moment she was going to slap my face. She only stopped because she saw me get up and walk towards the door. “Don’t you dare leave me here, Mr. B
ernard! We’re not done talking.”
“I’m done,” I pointed out. “Look, the final document you need to sign is in the bedroom. Sign it and then just get the fuck out of here.”
I walked out of the dining room and stormed my way into my private office in the third floor of the manor.
I didn’t even care to look back. I didn’t want to see her sobbing and crying – it would just tear me apart and make me take back all the stupid shit I just told her.
I buried myself in my work to get myself busy. I just shut myself in the office and didn’t care anymore if she was still in the manor or not. She could leave or stay for all I cared. I felt a mix of disappointment, anger, a bit of sadness, and regret in my mind. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think about it now.
I pushed her away. What was done was done. But deep inside even I had to admit that I did feel something different for her. I was not sure if I could call it love but I truly, madly, deeply adore her.
Now because of my stupid ego, she was gone, maybe for good.
8
Cherry
Hours turned into days and days into weeks. Before I knew it I was living a life without Dylan Bernard in it. Things suddenly shifted as I tore myself away from him after his rejection.
The pain from that day was too great for me to bear. I couldn’t even stay in the same city anymore. I couldn’t visit Mercury Wild because I knew that we had mutual friends there. I couldn’t go to the mall, the movie theater or the park because of the memories we shared there.
By the second week after I last saw him I told my father I was going home, back to the countryside down south. My mother was from there but she died a long time ago. Only the caretaker was there every other day.
Maybe it was time to just go back to my roots, take up my Master’s Degree in the community college and start teaching or write a book. I needed to get away from the city life and the bustling mess that Dylan put me through.
“Will you be okay there?” my father asked when I told him I planned to head home.
I nodded back at him and answered, “I’ll be better there than I am here.”
My father may not know the reason why I was slumping into depression but he was wise enough to understand when I needed some space. He let me go and took his favorite secretary, Mr. Riordan, to take my place.
Dad did let me know that I could always come back and work with him again but as far as I was concerned, I was done. I would never want to come back here.
So I left. I went home and got back into my community college to take evening classes. Maybe I could get my M.A. degree if I studied for two years straight. If I had to take things slowly I could still get my degree in three years and have time to run my own business. Maybe I could do my own thing without my father’s web of connections.