My alarm has been blaring incessantly, the noise muted by Angel's voice and mine. Sunlight was beaming through the window, but my eyes couldn't see enough of her. I wanted to burn her image into my mind, even if it meant being tortured by the memory of her when I had to continue living without her.
I gripped her hips as she rocked against me, throwing her head back and moaning unintelligible words under her breath while I ravaged her breasts, sucking hard and biting the way I knew she loved.
She lowered her head, gripping fistfuls of my hair as she looked down at me. I held her gaze, the look in her silver eyes making my skin burn. Lust. Desperation. Affection. Assuring me that all of this was as real for her as it was for me.
As we came together, I didn't care that she would break my heart again or that she would leave. All that mattered was this brief moment of solace. She was mine again and I didn't care that it would hurt like hell to let her go. She was mine. Fuck the pain.
I laid back on the bed, shifting on my side and keeping my arms wrapped around her as we caught our breaths, our lips inches apart. After a while, when our heartbeats settled and the brief euphoria had faded, the silence started becoming increasingly discomforting.
We were just looking each other, waiting for the other to make the first move or say something. I caught her gaze flicker to the door and I inherently held her tighter.
"Don't go," I practically begged. "Not yet."
She sighed, pressing her lips to my jaw. "I have a flight to catch."
"Miss it, then."
Her lips twitched. "Can't. Andy's announcing the release of her new album at her show tomorrow. I promised to be there."
"Oh, right. She's a singer," I muttered, remembering my sister begging me to take her to one of her concerts. "I like one of her new songs, the one that has a spoken word poem in the middle of a sick guitar riff."
"Ode To The Infinite."
"Yeah, that one. A bit too weird and artsy for me, but it was quite... moving to listen to. Very different from her old stuff."
She snorted. "In my defense, I wrote that piece while I was tripping on peyote and having a prolonged hallucination of myself in the afterlife."
My brows raised in surprise. "You're making music again? That's... that's amazing."
She pursed her lips, a grimace forming on her face. "No. I owed her and she made me pay by letting her use my old compositions from when I was exploring different musical styles." She shook her head, sighing. "I can't believe she attached my name to all that crap. As if I want to be credited for creating garbage."
"Didn't she win a Grammy a few months ago?"
"Yeah, but that's mostly because she's Andrea Allen."
She turned slightly, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table. My gaze caught sight of a string of brutal yellow and purple welts on her back, crisscrossing over each other. I frowned, grasping either side of her as I leaned closer to inspect them. She flinched, dropping the glass on the floor.
"Fuck, sorry," she muttered. "I'll clean it up. Where do you put your mop?"
She was about to get up but I held her still, reaching for her chin and making her look at me.
"What happened?"
She pursed her lips, shrugging. "It was a fight."
I shook my head, easily catching the lie. "These don't look like they came from fists, Angel."
"Because they're not. It was a chair."
She sat up, picking up her jacket from the floor and fishing out a pack of cigarettes.
"There was a fight at the bar. I tried to break it up when some fuckwad broke a chair over my back. He was aiming for the other guy and I caught the hit."
"Jesus. Where was Michael when this was happening?"
"Getting his cock sucked by a skinny blonde in the office," she muttered as she lit up the cigarette.
"You're kidding me."
She shrugged, exhaling a fog of smoke. "In his defense, the chick had amazing lips. Looked like they were made for cocksucking."
"What about Alex? Isn't he managing the bar now?"
"You think a fugitive living under a fake identity would participate in a bar fight?" She snorted. "The paranoid fuck won't even open his goddamn windows in fear of attracting attention from birds."
"So he is a fugitive."
She arched a brow. "I didn't say that."
She got off the bed, picking up her shirt from the floor and slipping it on. I gathered her hair, pulling it out of the collar and seeing what I had felt earlier. There were freshly healed stitches that started from her nape and went halfway up the back of her head.
"What about this?" I asked, brushing my fingers over the scar.
She shrugged, her shoulders tense. "I had an episode. Don't remember how I did it. Ask Jude."
I sighed, leaning forward to press my lips on her nape. "Stop lying."
"I'm hungry," she said, getting off the bed. "What do you want for breakfast?"
"Don't change the subject," I said in frustration. "Who did this to you? Have you seen a doctor? You could be-"
She was on me in a flash, straddling either side of me and pressing her palm over my mouth.
"You got two choices. Have a bitch fit over something insignificant and I bail or have a nice, quiet breakfast with me before I bail."
I pulled her hand off my mouth. "At least let me examine you."
She rolled her eyes. "It's nothing. I've had worse."
"That doesn't mean you should-"
She jolted forward, pressing her lips on mine. I tried to draw my head back but she only followed the movement. Letting out a harsh breath, I relented, kissing her back until we were both dazed and ridden by a feverish need for more.
"You've lost weight," she murmured in between chaste kisses. "I don't want to cuddle a skeleton, so join me for breakfast, yeah?"
She slid off me and I watched dumbly as she picked up her underwear from the floor and slipped it on before heading to the door.
"Want pancakes, hun?"
"Sure," I mumbled before realizing she was going in the kitchen. "Shit, wait."
I clambered off the bed, pulling my boxers on as I hurried after her. She was already in the kitchen, staring at the horrifying mess. She looked at me in disbelief.
I cleared my throat, shrugging. "I haven't had the time to clean up since I got back from Cabo."
She opened the fridge and took out the loaf of bread.
"Is that mold?" she muttered in disgust.
I cursed, grabbing it and stuffing it in the trash.
"You know what? There's a diner down the street and they make the most amazing grilled cheese. They put four types of cheese in it and they even make their own bread. You'll love it."
She rolled her eyes. "Let's go then."
We got dressed and when we got to the diner, they were packed by weekend warriors and their regular roster of retirees. I glanced at Angel and caught the annoyance on her face as she scanned the crowd.
"Wait here," she said, taking the baseball cap tucked in her backpocket and slipping it on her head.
She walked away before I could respond and tossed her jacket over her shoulder, leaving me to scramble to catch it as if I was one of her little servants.
I watched as she approached a booth filled by six guys wearing mismatched basketball jerseys. They perked up when they noticed her sauntering their way and with one flash of her trademark smirk and a stare, she had them under her command. It took her barely thirty seconds to have them picking up their gym bags and getting out of the booth. They even cleared the table for her.
"Now, you guys are just too damn nice. Thank you so much," she said as she settled into the booth.
"Total shot in the dark, would you, maybe, have dinner with me next weekend?" I heard one of them ask daringly as I approached.
She tilted her head, settling her gaze on me. "I don't know. My boyfriend and I already made plans for next weekend."
"Oh, you... you have a boyfriend."
I cleared my throat, catching their attention. "Thanks for the booth, fellas," I said as I patted the guy's shoulder before taking a seat across from Angel.
"Bye," Angel chirped, fluttering her fingers at them.
They waved stupidly at her before heading out the diner. She snickered.
"You can be so unnecessarily bitchy sometimes," I commented.
She held her hands up in defense. "Hey, all I did was ask if I could have their booth since they were already finished. Not my fault they took it as an invitation into my pants."
I scoffed. "Uh-uh. You don't get to do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like you didn't turn the charm on to get what you want."
She rolled her eyes. "Please, if I turned the charm on, they would have begged to pay for our bill."
I shook my head, vaguely impressed. "You're a danger to society, Miss Lastor."
She smirked. "That's what my lawyer always says."
"God, I bet he got rich off of your mischief."
"I'm pretty sure I paid for all his kids' tuition fees."
"How many felonies has he gotten you out of?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"This year or in total?"
"You terrify me."
She winked, grinning defiantly. As we sat there, bantering back and forth while not-so-subtlely flirting with each other, it almost felt like we were a normal couple having breakfast at our regular diner. Almost, if not for the fact that this was all temporary. That even though she was with me and we were laughing and sharing anecdotes and our hands were so close that our fingers could touch and our knees kept knocking against each other under the table, none of this would last. Because of some Swedish douchebag whose only advantage over me was that he had the ability to match her bank account and his blood carried centuries of nobility and prestige.
It was out of the question that I was proud of where I came from. My parents worked hard on a daily basis to give me a comfortable life and I worked just as hard to earn all of my achievements, but none of that was worth even a dime to the great Lastor family and their imposing patriarch Anthony "Worst-Dad-Of-The-Year" Lastor. I was a speck of dust in their pristine legacy. I didn't even measure up, let alone compete, with the man they had carefully chosen to be worthy of her. And it pissed me off so much because I knew, I fucking knew that Andre Gustav, with all the wealth and influence he could offer to the Lastor family, he didn't deserve Angel Lastor.
He didn't deserve her rare laughs. He didn't deserve her genuine smiles. He didn't deserve to be appalled and amused by her morbid sense of humor. He didn't deserve to listen to her speak in that nonsensical, but profound way she always did whenever it was late in the night. He didn't deserve to know her deepest thoughts and fantasies. He didn't deserve any of it because he will never bother to understand her. He will never spare the effort to learn how to care for her. He will never try to see past her pretenses. He was going to take for granted all the little things that made Angel the incredible, complex, and often times unbearable, but absolutely beautiful human being that she was. Not being the one who gets to be with her didn't piss me off as much as it pissed me off that she was going to be reduced to a trophy.
"What is it?" she was asking me, looking unsettled. "You keep staring. Stop it. You're weirding me out."
"I was just thinking," I murmured, leaning forward. "If there's one memory of us that I want you to never forget, it would be this. Ten years from now, our lives have gone on completely separate paths and we have families of our own, kids and all. You and Jude have taken over your family's company while I'm working at a non-profit traveling all over the world helping people, at least that's what I hope I'd be doing. Then, one day, maybe at a coffee shop or the park, we cross paths. We stop to say hi and while we're telling each other about our lives, we come back to this moment. A moment so insignificant and simple, but with it comes everything that we've shared. We remember how once upon a time, you and I belonged to each other. And just for a while, we wonder." I smiled. "What if?"
She stared at me unblinkingly as I watched her run the scenario in her head, then she turned her gaze away, looking out the window.
"I'm Angel Lastor," she reminded me once again.
I cracked a smile, reaching for her hand twining our fingers together. "I know."
"I know it too. I've spent my entire life learning and accepting everything that comes with that name," she said, evident anger shaking her voice lightly. "I've always hated it, being Angel Lastor, but I never once considered being anyone else. It's the only life I know, but you..."
"But I?" I went on when she didn't. "I what, Angel?"
"You make me want things Angel Lastor can never have."
She squeezed my hand, smiling solemnly as she slipped her fingers from mine. I held back the urge to grab her, hold onto her and beg for her to hold onto me too, but it would be too fucking cruel to the both of us when we inevitably had to let each other go again.
"My family is unyielding when it comes to tradition," she began, staring at my hands that felt too empty without hers. "For generations, it has been customary to arrange marriages that will contribute to the family's prosperity and all heirs are required to bear two children. They will be brought up under the principles and laws my great-grandfather had laid out. The first born will be groomed to be a fitting successor for both their parents. The second born will be trained in regards to becoming the support system of their elder sibling. There are three branches in the Lastor family. The Lowest Branch is comprised of bastards and children whose parents were disowned. The Second Branch are the second borns, or if there were more than two children, and their children and their children after them. The Main Branch are the true heirs, Timothy's remaining legitimate children and their firstborns. They own shares in the company and hold the ten highest seats in the family council."
She lifted her head, looking at me.
"I'm the only second born that belongs in the Main Branch and regarded as a true heir. My grandfather's twin sister and right hand, Johanna, was a lesbian who refused to marry a man and never bore any children, so Gramps made her choose a successor among the second borns. A few weeks before she passed, I was summoned to her home and she informed me of her intent to declare me as her sole heir. She gave me the chance to refuse, but if I accepted, she had two conditions. I must marry and bear legitimate heirs to avoid another crisis of succession, and I must never abandon my duty to my brother, even if I come to hate the life I must live in service to him. I accepted and I inherited her shares in the company and seat in the council upon her death. Shortly after, I gave the family consent to arrange my marriage. It took a bit of time to set in motion, due to my legal issues, but last year, I was given a list of candidates where I handpicked Andre from and I've spent the past several months participating in the carefully curated relationship they had designed for us."
She smiled, leaning forward to hold my cheek in her hand.
"My fate was set the day I was given the Lastor name, all that I lacked was a partner they deemed suitable, but now, he's filled the spot. You and I, we never had a chance. They wouldn't have given it even if we begged and offered our damned souls."
She sighed, her eyes roaming all over my face.
"But what if, huh? What if I wasn't what I am? Maybe we could have had a chance then, yeah?"
I pursed my lips, hating that I was losing her and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
"I wish we could just... disappear."
She shook her head ruefully. "There have been those who did that. One of them was my father's elder brother, Augustus. He had eloped with a girl who worked at my grandparents' estate and he was promptly disowned as a result. Stripped of his name and rank. Shunned by his own blood. His child taken from him and branded as property to be used by the family. I can't allow that to happen to me not because I value my place in the family. I couldn't careless about any of it, but I'm Jude's right hand and if I get disowned, I will be forced to sever all contact with him. I won't even be allowed to be in the same country as him. I didn't agree to marry Andre out of submission to my father or to honor my promise to Johanna. I agreed because my loyalty to Jude outweighs everything, even you." She grasped my chin, pressing her thumb against my bottom lip. "I'm yours. That hasn't changed. It's just…"
"You live for Jude," I said for her, forcing a smile. "You had to choose and you chose your brother."
"Don't hate me."
I chuckled humorlessly. "How could I hate you for doing something so selfless?" I took her hand, pressing my lips to her knuckles. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head. "I understand. I mean, this is by far the worst way I've ever been dumped and I have no idea how I'm gonna deal with it, but I understand." I forced another smile. "I can live with it."
"You don't have to," she said dejectedly. "You should forget me and go back to living how your life was meant to before I existed in it. You deserve better than what I have to offer."
"Maybe someday," I conceded. "But right now, this is enough."
"You'll never be happy," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.
"You don't get it, do you?" I wiped away her tears, smiling. "I don't care. Just stay with me until you can't anymore."
She looked at me intently, contemplating for a moment. "Okay," she said with a sigh. "But babe, can I at least clean the apartment? I can't stand the fucking mess."
* * *
After breakfast, I had to go to the hospital because I was already late for my shift. As punishment, my attending had me do all my coworkers' reports while also participating in rounds and assisting at the ER. By the time I got home, my brain was fried and entire body was heavy with exhaustion. I was lucky enough my attending took pity on me and allowed me to leave after the post-dinner rounds, claiming I had paid enough for today.
I had a sneaking suspicion Angel had something to do with his change of heart. I didn't know how, but I just knew. Dr. Forbes never liked me ever since I came to the hospital armed with a personal recommendation from Anthony Lastor and had taken to calling me Richie Rick.
When I stepped into my apartment, it was almost unrecognizable. The piles of pizza boxes and empty beer cans that littered the living room were gone. The trail of dust on the furniture was gone. The faint stench of dirty laundry was gone. The aroma of cheese and tomato wafting from the kitchen made me seriously doubt it was still my apartment but according to the number on the door, 4B, it was.
"Oh god, you actually cleaned? Baby, you didn't have to," I exclaimed in amazement as I dropped my things on the floor before heading into the kitchen. "I thought you were tending bar tonight. Please tell me you didn't get-"
I halted in my step when I saw my mother squatting in front of the oven and checking on the tray of what seemed like lasagna. My favorite.
"Mom? What are you doing here?"
"Yes, it's me. Sorry to disappoint you," she muttered sarcastically. "But you haven't called or visited in weeks and you never pick up so..." She scurried towards me, grabbing my face and kissing my cheeks. "I came to visit!"
"For how long?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't sound so horrified. I'm leaving tomorrow," she said as she went about rearranging the kitchen. "I can't trust your father to be alone in the house. He might try fixing something again. Last time he did that, your brother almost died. Anyway..." She turned back to me. "Who were you talking to?"
"What?"
She grinned so widely I felt sorry for her cheeks.
"When you came in, it sounded like you were expecting someone." Her eyes brightened. "Who is she?"
"Uh, nobody. My super."
She arched a brow. "Oh? You call your super 'baby'?"
"Yeah, it's her name."
"You sure? Because I was having brunch with Rita Patterson at the club the other day, you know the Pattersons you used to go surfing with their boys during the summer. Anyway, she told me she saw you on the cover of a magazine with Angel Lastor. And you were kissing her. In Mexico."
She got up in my face, her eyes so wide I felt myself shrinking despite the fact that she was barely five feet tall.
"Is that true, Ricky?"
"What? No!"
She slapped my arm. "Stop lying! I saw the picture! I know what my son looks like even when I'm looking at an extremely pixelated image of him!" She slapped my arm again.
"Alright. Alright. Fine, it was me," I relented, rubbing my arm.
She gasped and then started squealing while bouncing up and down.
"Can I meet her? You should bring her home! We can have a barbecue on the beach! Please tell me she's not vegan. Is it true she's a drug lord?"
"Uhm, no, no, no, she's not, and that's just a rumor," I enumerated, grabbing a wad of paper towels and wiping her red lipstick off my cheeks. "Also, we're not dating."
She frowned. "You're not?"
I shook my head, forcing a laugh. "It was just a drunken kiss. It didn't mean anything. The media just blew it out of proportion."
"Really?" she mumbled forlornly.
"Yeah. She was teasing me because I wouldn't play along her games and then she kissed me. It was horrible. Seriously. She's rude, arrogant, and just not my type."
She frowned. "So you're not dating anyone?"
"Nope."
"And you really have a super named Baby?"
"I know, weird name, right? She's, like, sixty or something."
"And you and Angel Lastor?"
"Nothing. She's Jude's sister, he would kill me. Plus, she's engaged to some Swedish prince or something."
She grinned. "Okay, so you remember Paula Hamilton?"
I groaned. "I don't want you to set me up with anyone either, Mom."
"But didn't you used to have a crush on her in middle school?"
"Oh god, I'm too exhausted to deal with you. I'm going to shower." I kissed her cheek. "I love you. Thanks for cleaning."
"I didn't clean."
I stilled. "Oh. The super must have come by."
"Your super cleans your apartment?"
"Yeah, she cleans the units on the side."
I went to my room to get a change of clothes and took out my phone to call Angel, but my battery had died. I reached for my charger on the bedside table and noticed a sticky note stuck to the lamp.
I can't stay anymore. I'm sorry.
PS:
I made lasagna in case you're hungry. It's in the oven, just heat it up.
Confused and panicked, I ran out of the room.
"Mom, can I borrow your phone?"
"It's in my purse, hon!" she yelled from the kitchen.
"Where's your purse?" I said, scanning the living room and finding it on the coffee table. "Never mind!"
I quickly dialed Angel's number, having already memorized it, but was answered by her usual outgoing message. I ended it and called her again. And again. And again. Until, the calls wouldn't go through anymore and all that answered was an automated voice telling me the number couldn't be reached.