I’m not sure how much time passes before the door opens, and I fall backward, staring up at a red-eyed, red-cheeked Noel.
But it’s not sadness I find. It’s anger.
And then my eyes fall to her fingers, to the folded piece of paper hanging from between them.
My face pinches and I jump to my feet, moving toward her, but she only backs up.
“Noel, where did you—” I cut off, my gaze picking up on the small wooden box beside my bed, the lid open, the only item from inside now in her grasp.
“What is this?” she whispers at first, and then she screams it, jerking toward me. “What is this, Roman?!”
“It’s a letter.”
“Obviously. Tell me it was meant for someone else.” She slams it into my chest, hurriedly moving away from me.
I let it fall to the floor, my eyes searching hers. “Do you want me to lie to you?”
“When did you write this?” she demands.
“Tenth grade.”
A blubbering cry puffs past her lips, her gaze zeroing in on the tattered, folded and frayed paper on the floor between us, but I keep my eyes locked on her as I recite the words from the page off memory alone.
“I’ve loved you since ninth grade when you told me to go fuck myself after a football game.” My palms sweat as her attention lifts from the old love note crashing into mine.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
I continue, “I’ve loved you a long time now. Longer than you’d believe if I told you, ‘cause what’s a fifteen-year-old kid like me know about love anyway, right?”
Her hand slaps over her mouth, attempting to muffle her cries, but the tears are there, vast and flowing.
“All I know is when I go to bed, I think of you. When I wake up, I think of you, and when I’m not with you, I want to be. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m pretty damn sure you’re the girl I’m supposed to marry, so I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you happy. To make all your dreams come true, no matter what that means, because you deserve that. You deserve it all, so from today until you force me to stop—maybe not even then—I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make sure I’m the guy you want by your side, and when I’m worthy of standing beside you, I’m going to ask you to be mine forever. And you know what, Kitten? You’re going to say yes.” My eyes move to hers, her lips trembling as I speak the last line. “But I guess I have to find the courage to ask you out first for any of that to happen, don’t I? Love, Roman.”
The air in the room is thick, suffocating. The silence deafening.
My heart fucking shredding as she trembles before me, anger and sadness bleeding from every inch of her.
“You should have told me.”
“You were happy with him, Kitten. I couldn’t—wouldn’t dare—ruin that for you.”
Her lower lip trembles, tears staining her cheeks.
“But then this summer, when he asked you to marry him, you looked up at me over his shoulder, and you didn’t say yes until I forced a smile. And I knew. I knew for sure you loved me, too. More than you did him. Different from him, but it didn’t matter because you were still going to marry him,” I whisper, shuffling forward the slightest bit, and that tremble makes its way through her entire body. “But you’re not his anymore.”
“Roman…”
“You never were, not truly, you—”
“I have to go,” she breathes, cheeks streaked with hot tears.
My brows snap together, and I dart toward her, hope and confusion whirling within me, making me nauseous.
“Kitten.”
Her eyes fall to the floor, arms hugging herself. “He’s already calling…”
I swallow, dread wrapping around my limbs, weighing me down.
She shuffles away, putting as much space between her and me as the room will allow, and slips into the living room.
“Noel, don’t go to him.” I follow her backward steps with forward ones of my own. “Please. He doesn’t deserve your time. Stay with me. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Her features crumble, lips trembling as she unsteadily opens the door, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall, the time ticking just behind the twelve. Tears spill down her already stained cheeks as her eyes meet mine. Her jaw sets, and when the words leave her, they’re strong. Final.
“Move out of the way.”
They’re a goodbye.
“If you leave, don’t bother coming back.”
I don’t know why I say it. The moment I do, I want to take it back, but my tongue won’t seem to work.
Noel’s face falls, pales, and she shrinks into herself.
“Merry Christmas, Roman.”
Then she’s gone, and I fall to my knees right where she left me.
I blink, and then blink again, the haze before my eyes clearing as the room I painted a soft gray morphs into a stark white one, every element nearly identical to my old bedroom, yet different.