Feeling a crushing weight on my chest, I find my breathing become a heave as all my emotions run wild. The tears start and I’m pleased no one is here to stop me from leaving. I have to run because, if I don’t, this could well be a sight that kills me.
I take my clutch bag, clench it to my chest, and weave through the crowds, ignoring every call of my name I hear. I just need to make it home before I’m emotionally crippled and everyone sees the facade I’ve worn is just all a perfectly woven lie.
“Bella!”
I halt on the stop, incensed by that nickname as Lorenzo stands before me, stopping me from getting what I desire. I’m halfway between the table I just escaped from and the door I want to escape through. All I want is to get lost in the night, break away from my every emotion and just live a moment in my life without feeling, without emotions, without my wayward heart yelling at me with every single I wish I could have and know I can’t.
He reaches out to touch me and I lash out.
“Just leave me alone!” I scream at him, slamming my flat palms into his chest. “I don’t love you, Lorenzo! So just leave me the hell alone!”
It’s with that I take off again, ignoring him to just seek glorious freedom. When I manage it, I think I’ve caught my lucky break, but even I’m not stupid enough to believe in that idea. I make it with ease into the foyer, when I’m stopped again.
“Where are you going, woman?” Zane calls out when I make it to the main door of the bar.
I stop, my grasp wrapped around the handle and bow my head, begging myself not to cry. My eyes flutter close, but I just see him pouring his attention all over a woman who will never be me. It’s pure torture, and I know my nights will be more haunted than they ever are. He said he loved me, wanted me, but he’s shown me beautifully, that’s not the truth.
“Amelia, what the hell are you running away from?!” he asks me, alarm mounting his voice.
“I can’t do this,” I say taking a deep breath, but it causes my tears to spring to life. “I can’t.”
“What?” he asks dumbly.
I laugh through my tears and shake my head as I turn back to face him.
“You dancing with her,” I say, brandishing my arm out to point at the brunette who stands waiting, just beyond the large glass door in the club, for him to come back. “Her touching you, kissing you,” I comment, pushing my hands into my hair. “I can’t take it.” I feel my total destruction happening. My heart is no longer encased in my chest nor is it protected in Zane’s careful grasp, but instead it’s bleeding out on the floor, ready to shatter. “You make it seem so easy to throw these promises around only to break them. You make it seem so easy to move on.”
“Last time I checked, Lorenzo was keeping your bed warm,” Zane admonishing bitterly, his tone clipped.
“I haven’t touched him since coming home,” I counter his argument with my own. “I physically stop him from touching me, if you hadn’t noticed!”
“How big of you,” he snarls angrily, his eyes becoming like slits as he narrows a hurtful gaze upon me. “It’s been two days. That didn’t stop you from jumping him for all four months you were in Italy, did it? He seems pretty infatuated with you, Amelia.”
“I’m not doing this,” I reply, feeling myself unraveling. “You let me go, remember? You pushed me away. I didn’t have a hope in hell I’d get another opportunity with you, so don’t you dare scrutinize me for trying to heal the broken heart you created when you just let me go.”
“Let you go straight to another man,” Zane remarks nastily yet takes two steps forward.
"You can't see it, can you?" I ask him, stabbing my index finger – nail included – into his chest. He’s broken any resolve I had. "He looks like you, Zane." My words come out a slur, a mumble of what they’re meant to be, but I see Zane's affected by the statement all the same. "He's the Italian version of you and that's why I chose him. He was the closest thing to you I could have when you were gone."
Grabbing my hands, Zane stills me, capturing my in a frozen embrace. “I’m here now. I’m back for you. Why can’t you see that?”
I begin to weep, the alcohol only fueling me. “I can’t trust you to love me, though. He’s the safe option.”
“You never used to play it safe,” he says as he releases me enough to catch my face and begin to rub away my tears. “That’s not how you do things, sweetheart, so why the change now?”
I look at him, my eyes still pouring tears, and I just hope he sees the honesty and sincerity in my response. “Playing it dirty cost me you two too many times.”
“Not this time,” he whispers, his voice wracked with sincerity. “I used her to get this reaction from you. I needed to break you somehow, Amelia. You’re not losing me this time.”