Page 25 of Let's Be Forever

Me:I’m not doing this so we can get back together. I promise. Please just call me.

I’m shaken back to the present when I hear Clementine’s raised voice. I thought she’d already locked up.

“We’re closing! Come back never!”

I’m taken aback by the rage in her tone. Running to the front, I stop abruptly when I see the reason for her anger. Sylas stands by the front door, Em in front of him, blocking him from entering any farther.

“I really need to talk to her,” he begs.

I take a step back, my anxiety coming back full force, but the movement catches his attention. He does a double take and our eyes lock.

“Anna,” he breathes out, relieved. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

“You’re a few years too fucking late. Get out, or I’m calling the police,” Em spits out, folding her arms across her chest and standing her ground.

He towers over her, but despite his height, he looks small and exhausted. Dark circles pool underneath his eyes, and his hair is disheveled in a way that tells me he’s been running his fingers through it. And I could be reading too much into it, but I swear I see trepidation cross his features.

I almost let Clementine escort him out or fulfill her promise to call the police, but the longer I stare at him, the deeper my resentment becomes, my fury annihilating the rational part of my brain.

I march to him, going around Em. Every word I wanted to say in the few seconds it took me to stand in front of him fizzles. I’m stuck between cussing him out and not saying anything at all.

“I thought I told you not to come back.” I aim for neutral, but hurt trickles out.

He was my first love. My first everything. I was madly in love with him, and I almost gave up everything for him. I cried andpleaded—desperately, might I add—for him not to end things. I begged him to want me, for him not to leave me. But it wasn’t enough.

“Rosie—”

“No, you won’t take her from me!” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but dread fills every inch of me. Every worst possible scenario circles in my head. How does he know her name? Has he been keeping tabs?

“No, I—why would I—no—” he stammers, wide eyes frantic. “Is Rosie mine?”

I suck in a breath, faintly hearing Em say she’s going to call the police. My body vibrates with rage. I’m ready to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t get to. His pale green eyes roam over my face before he’s speaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds genuinely devastated, grief-stricken. “She’s almost three, Anna, isn’t she? You had two years…” He huffs out a heavy, disbelieving sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My face stings from the accusation in his voice. Slapping me would have been less effective. I thought being threatened by his parents was bad, but this is worse.

“Why didn’t I tell you?” I scoff incredulously. “Clementine, wait,” I say over my shoulder when I notice she’s pulled out her phone. Then, to Sylas: “I tried to tell you! I tried for weeks! I fucking tried! Don’t come here and act like…like…” I clear my throat, my emotions too thick and hard to control. “Like this is news to you! You wanted nothing to do with her!”

“Thisisnews to me…” His voice is so soft I almost don’t hear what he says. His shoulders sag, face twisting in visceral pain. “We have a daughter?Wehave a daughter.” The second time it’s a statement, as if he’s coming to terms with the words himself. His nostrils flare and he rolls his jaw. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “I need a trash can.”

“For—”

“I’m going to throw up.” He tips his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

My eyes go wide, but I immediately grab the one by the front door and hand it to him. He doubles over and vomits into it. My anger wanes, concern takes over. Mom mode activates. I go to the back, wet a clean rag with cold water, and grab another clean one and a water bottle.

“What do you need me to do?” Em cautiously asks as I approach Sylas.

He’s hugging the trash can, still doubled over, but not throwing up anymore.

I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I smile at her. She shakes her head, but I press on. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you if I need anything.” I sidle up next to him, noting how pale he is.

She relents with a nod, heads to the back to grab her stuff, and exits the bakery, leaving Sylas and me alone.

“I swear I didn’t know,” he states into the bin, still dry-heaving. “I swear, Anna, I fucking swear. I promised you we’d do it together. I missed…fuck.” He closes his eyes, growing paler by the second. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

I think…I think he’s telling the truth.