Prologue
“What are we?”
The question slipped from his lips. Too fast. Too vulnerable. Vince almost regretted it immediately. His hazel eyes drifted over Daphne’s naked body.
The room still smelled of warm cotton and skin. The dim light illuminated only what truly mattered. The sheets tangled around their legs, as if shielding them from the cold morning air drifting in through the half-open window.
Daphne was still lying on her stomach. Her brown hair was scattered across the pillow, nearly tangled. Vince’s gaze traced an invisible path over every one of her freckles. She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers, heavy with rings, fidgeted with the edge of the sheet, as though she were already searching for something to hold on to.
“What do you mean?”
She pretended not to understand. Her eyes, usually such a captivating green turned evasive, and Vince noticed instantly. He propped himself up on one elbow, the sheet sliding down over his hips. He hesitated for a second, his tongue nervously brushing his lips. Then he went for it anyway.
“I want more than this.”
Daphne froze, almost imperceptibly but Vince felt it. A knot formed in his throat.
“I want us to be together. For real,” he continued.
The silence that followed was too long. Daphne slowly pushed herself up. The sheet slid down her back, her long hair now covering her nudity. And he thought she was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt when she reached for her clothes scattered across the floor.
“Daphne…” His voice broke. “Say something.”
She pulled on her t-shirt, then dressed in silence. Her trembling fingers struggled to fasten the button of her shorts.
“Vince…”
His name suddenly sounded like an apology. She closed her eyes for a few seconds.
“We can’t,” she said.
He sat up abruptly, his brows knitting together.
“Why? We sleep together. We spend our weekends together. You even wear my clothes! What is that, if it’s not being together?”
Daphne still wouldn’t meet his gaze, and that was too much. He lost his temper.
“Damn it, talk to me, Daphne!” he shouted.
“I can’t!”
Her voice cracked.
“…Because it would mean I still believe in it,” she admitted, her throat tight.
Silence. The real kind. The kind that buzzes in your ears like a swarm of bees. Daphne finally looked up at him, but Vincent would have preferred if she’d screamed at him. Because in her eyes, there was no anger. Just fear. Pure and simple.
“And if I believe in it… you’ll be able to break me again.”
His heart clenched despite himself as he left the warmth of the sheets. His hand slid desperately to Daphne’s hip. He needed to reassure himself that she was still there.
“I won’t leave,” he whispered, like a promise.
Like a prayer. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, his restless eyes searched hers for the usual affection. But none came. Instead, she let out a small, emotionless laugh.
“You already left once.”
It was soft. Almost murmured. And yet her words pierced his chest like a blade. Then, against all logic, she gently cupped his cheek. Her hand slid down to his neck, then to the back of his shaved head. Vince’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as his thoughts clashed inside him. His gaze locked onto hers, searching for something to hold on to.
“Daphne…” he pleaded.
She pressed her lips together, then leaned in to kiss him. Slowly. Tenderly. As if she still loved him. Her fingers curled at the nape of his neck. For a second, Vincent thought she might stay.
“Don’t give me hope, okay?” she whispered.
Her warm breath brushed against his lips but for Vince, it felt like ice water.
“See you later.”
Then she walked away, the door closing softly behind her. And Vincent finally understood the cruelest truth :
He could love her. But he couldn’t keep her.
