The Story of Us: A heart-wrenching story that will make you believe in true love



I smile and nod at everyone we pass as we make our way to the center of the dance floor, not seeing faces, not recognizing anyone, just blurs of hair and eyes and colorful expensive gowns as we move. I can’t think, I can’t focus, and I don’t want to be here, but I can’t make myself drop his hand and walk away, walk back to the safety of Landry and the security of what I know. I don’t know this man, gripping my hand so tightly I can feel my bones rubbing together under my skin. I don’t recognize this man who called me by a name he swore he never would again because he knew how much it hurt.

“All my life, people have looked at me like I’m a spoiled princess. The poor little rich girl, living in one of the biggest houses in town, able to buy her happiness with just the snap of her fingers. I hate the way they look at me. I hate the way they see me.”

“I see you, Shelby. Who cares what they think? I see you, and you are nothing like that person. You couldn’t be even if you tried.”



I close my eyes when he finally stops walking and turns to face me, still hearing that voice and those words from what seems like a lifetime ago. His words gave me wings back then. They made me feel like I could do anything I set my mind to when he whispered them as he kissed his way down my body.

“Open your eyes and dance with me, Princess.”

I feel that one word like a punch to the face and it’s impossible to hide the wince this time. I covered it up the first time he used it with a fake smile and an angry stare, but I’m not that strong. I’m not that person anymore who could fight her way out of any situation, argue until her point was made or give a damn about being hurt.

I deserve the hurt. I deserve the pain of his words and the smirk on his face while he stands here in front of me, watching me wrestle with my decision. He knows I won’t storm off in a huff in front of all these people. He knows I won’t tell him to go to hell. Not because I’m worried someone will hear me, because I know he’s already been there. The scars that mar his beautiful face and the hardness in his eyes are proof that he’s lived through torment I’ll never understand, so I let him have this moment. I let him call me Princess even though it breaks off one more piece of my heart and tosses it into the pile of shattered fragments. I let him tug me roughly to him and I let him dig his fingers into my lower back as he holds me close and we begin swaying to the music.

Glancing around us, I give a few more polite smiles to other couples as they dance their way around us. I crane my neck to look through the crowd and make sure my mother is occupied and not getting a front row seat to this…whatever this is. I know she’ll hear about it. One of her many minions will make sure to scurry over to her and whisper in her ear, wrongfully assuming I’m doing something good for the charity tonight and expect her to be grateful. Presume I instigated this dance, in front of all these people, to show our support for the military hero who finally came home. They don’t know how much it will anger her. They have no idea I’ll be paying for this moment later after everyone has gone home to their happy homes with their happy families.

“Was it worth it, Princess?”

My eyes move away from the distractions all around us and I finally tip my head back and look up at his face. He’s scowling at me, his eyebrows clenched together and a curl in his lip indicating his disgust at what I’m doing, how I’m dressed, and what I’ve become.

“Was what worth it?” I ask, hating the quiver in my voice that lets him know I am not comfortable with this situation or with his question.

“Giving up. I just want to know if it was worth it, letting go of everything you’d ever wanted just to be one of her little fucking sheep.”

You’re here, you’re breathing, and you’re alive. It will always be worth it.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and force myself to continue looking into his eyes that feel like laser beams, burning a hole into my flesh.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” I beg, my hand slipping from his shoulder to rest over his heart, hoping the thump of it under my palm will give me the strength I need to hold my head high and not collapse into his arms and beg him to forgive me.

He laughs, but the sound doesn’t match the anger in his eyes.

“Princess, you wouldn’t know difficult if it walked in here and smacked you across the face. While you were sitting here all nice and cozy in your fancy castle in your perfect, pathetic world, helping your mother toss her money around, I was fighting for my life. Fighting for one more fucking breath just so I could come back here to you. But there’s nothing left, is there?”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek before the sting of his words fills my eyes with tears. My eyes leave his to glance at my left hand, which is still resting against his chest, to stare at the watch on my wrist. I wish I could let go of his hand so I could run my fingers over the inside band. It’s my security, my reminder, and the only thing that keeps me grounded and stops me from losing my sanity. I try not to focus on what he said about fighting his way back to me. I can’t allow myself even a moment of weakness to believe that’s true. The hurt and anger over how he left me are the only things I have left. They’re the only things stopping me from wrapping my arms around him and telling him the truth.

“You’re right,” I finally say, my eyes still on my watch. “There’s nothing left. Maybe it wasn’t even there to begin with. I chose a different path because it was easier.”

There’s nothing left because you took it all with you. And now that you’re back, I can’t even reach out and grab it without ruining both of us.

“I have an easy life,” I lie, forcing my eyes away from my watch and back up to his furious ones. “I have a good man who makes it easy to love him and won’t leave me. I have a good job that’s easy to do. It’s all good and I’m happy.”

He scoffs and shakes his head at me, his arm tightening around my body until I realize we’re no longer dancing. We’re standing in place in the middle of the dance floor and I want to run. Dancing with him, even if it was just moving from side to side, brings back too many memories of other times we moved like that. Times when I laughed and loved and felt something, anything.