A Stranger's Proposal

Chapter Nine: Tears

Luca DeVille's POV

Her doe eyes widened, shiny with unshed tears, masking the fear that her shaking hands gave away. It was enough for me to want to reach for her and wrapped my arms around her body. Tell her she can cry, because seeing her compose herself to hide herself, hurt more. It was enough to tug the strings I tightly tied to my heart and cry for her. But it's me who gave her that. It's me who showed her that piece of paper. I don't think I have the right, even if I wanted to.

I remained on my seat, as she pushed hers back, and walked away in silence. She didn't give me one last glance, but I know she's trying her best not to break.

For fuck's sake, maybe Jude was right. Maybe I was too stubborn, too selfish, too desperate to be a part of their lives, without thinking if I'm welcome.

The truth is, I wanted to be stubborn and selfish and desperate to be a part of their lives even if I'm not welcome. And I hate that as she walked her way out the door, all I could think was begging for her acceptance after hurting her.

I followed her. Let her stay ahead of me as she made her way out of the hotel and into the road. She didn't even look at the traffic lights as if they didn't exist. She just walked and walked... and walked. Until she entered the park, and sat on the bench, staring straight ahead, without blinking.

I stood there, at arm reach, and didn't care if she acknowledged my presence or not. I just wanted to be there. To see her.

"For two years, she didn't ask anything for her birthday. I'm fine with anything, mommy, she said...'' Her voice soft, strained, and shaky, but she didn't avert her gaze. And I stood there, listening, not wanting to leave any more burn than I've already caused. "She didn't want a new set of baking pans or new shoes, or a toy no matter how many times I asked her. And I thought, maybe she's saving all her wishes for Christmas." A tear traced down her cheek as she bit her lip. "And she was. But not for her." She looked my way, with trembling lips, and said "It was for you." She finally let out a sob before burying her face on her palms and wiped her face. "I heard her praying... asking God to keep her father safe... To keep him strong... To keep him patient until she finds him. Until he's ready for her. Until they meet. And you have no idea how bad I felt that day that I couldn't give her that one thing she wanted." She sobbed, "I couldn't even give her a name... or a picture. I can't even answer her when she asked me what her father looks like, so she can at least draw him and put his picture on our wall."

And I couldn't just stand there anymore and watch. Her tear stained face knocked any jurisdiction left in me that's kept me from pulling her against my chest in the past. I don't care if I don't deserve them. Or if she couldn't be mine. But damn it, I'd give up everything I have just to not see her cry.

I took off my coat and wrapped it around her. She sniffed as I kneeled in front of her and reached for her hand. "I was so scared and ashamed to be knocked up by a stranger I couldn't even remember." She laughed in between sobs. "I'm so stupid."

I wiped the tears on her cheeks. Too precious to be shed. Then I tucked her hair behind her ear and held her hands firmly. I wanted to scold her. To tell her that's not true, and prove her wrong. She's not stupid. She's brave. She's goddamn strong. She's fucking perfect. She's so much more than just someone who was knocked up by a stupid stranger. I wanted her to take that back, to stop thinking and look at me.

I tipped her chin higher until our eyes met and kissed the trails her tears left. Like a battlefield after the warrior won the war. She was that warrior. She consumed me. Intoxicated me. Draw the sharpest sword and made me surrender. And she won me easily. Hell, I'm hers even without the war.

Her skin reflected the light, glowing just like an angel too good for a sinner like me. I softly pressed my lips against hers. There's a lot of things I wanted to say, but I'm too scared to ruin this moment. I wanted to tell her thank you, for being the best mother she is. I wanted to say sorry. For leaving that day. For being a goddamn pussy against the thought of me not being good enough for her, because I am not. I will never be. With all that softness, I'll be her thorn. With all sweetness, I'll be that bitter aftertaste. With all that purity, I'll be her darkness, but even now, with a flashing you-can't-be-with-her sign, I'm looking the opposite way. Because believe it or not, the moment she walked into the bar and handed me that drink, she had me stung on four horses and I never wanted to be more worthy for someone... for anyone... for her.

I was just scared that if I stayed in her life longer—even for a few more seconds that morning, I wouldn't want to leave at all. And if she asks me to leave right now, I'm sorry, but I can't.

I don't want to.

***

*breathe*

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