Chapter 97: Fragile expectations
Caspian was leaning against the old olive tree when I returned from work, his suit jacket tossed across the bench, and it looked crumpled up. He rose to his feet as I approached him, the sun of noon high-lighting the streaks of gray in his hair. He smiled slightly, hesitantly.
"Hey," I whispered softly.
"Hi."He replied with fear in his voice. He patted the bench with his knuckles, beckoning me to sit with him, and I brushed some dust off the bench before settling beside him. His intense gaze fell on me then settled on my hands, observing me quietly as he was thinking of what to say to me. He sat too, his knees folded under his elbows. We were so close I could sense the warmth radiating off him, and the familiar scent of his cologne—a mixture of cedar and citrus.
I studied him for a long moment while thinking about what I was about to say before uttering it. "I'm sorry," I said to him, "for locking you out this morning. I was angry about the whole proposal situation."
He shook his head gently and said to me. "I deserved it."
I breathed unevenly. "I know you were attempting to fix me." I extended my hand to his, and he wrapped his around it, holding it tenderly. "But when I see you managing on your knees among the roses, ring in your hand… I think that you're only trying to fix us, and that scares me so much Caspian."
His dark eyes grew darker. "I love you," he told me, his voice low and genuine. "I want to spend my entire life demonstrating it. But if it had been a shortcut, I apologize."
I swallowed. "I don't want shortcuts. I want the truth. I want to confront our fears, not smother them in silk."
He nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "Then let's do that," he said. "Tell me your fears."
I exhaled. "I think you don't trust us enough to fight every day. I think we'll go back to whispered fears and unspoken fears."
His thumb stroked against the knuckles of my hand. "I do trust us," he said, practical. "Every day."
I leaned against him, forehead on his shoulder. "Then let's try again, then," I whispered. "No more heroics until we rebuild the trust."
He kissed the top of my head, his mouth warm. "As you wish."
We were quiet, the leaves above us glinting from the olive tree. In the quiet, the box holding the ring was a thousand miles away—preposterous until we got our bearings again.
We returned to the villa as the sun dropped low, the sky on fire with burning oranges and dusty pinks. Our dinner was quite simple—a rosemary-roast chicken, a crisp salad, fresh bread. We ate at the dinner table, long shadows cast across the china.
We talked small—gallery opening plans, business phone calls, a book I'd been reading—but tension simmered in every glance, every smile.
Later I was standing in the library rearranging the books according to their sequence, attempting to concentrate on the color-coded spines, in a way that would save me from the suffocating thoughts I was having. Caspian appeared and stood behind me, his body a warm stripe down my back.
"Lily," he whispered softly.
I turned, meeting his intense eyes. "Yes Cass?"
He hesitated, then held out his hand. "Dance with me please?"
I blinked twice. The request really felt like a test—an imitation of last week's terrible plan. But I knew I had to get past this day with him without us having an argument on who is right or wrong about the issue on ground. I set the book I was holding aside and reached out to hold his hand.
He drew me close to him, and we danced to the rhythm of a slow waltz played through the speakers. His jacket was cold to the touch on my robe, and I let my eyes slip shut, experiencing the firmness of his arm around me.
For an instant, the doubt that had plagued the day dissolved. His hand on the small of my back, his face leaning toward mine, each careful step a silent apology—and a guarantee of strength.
But as soon the music started fading away gently, I felt the burden of unspoken words between us. I felt love in his embrace, but also the echo of shattered expectations. We finished the dance, and we stood, forehead to forehead, gasping together.
"Thank you," I whispered softly.
He kissed my forehead. "Thank you for not leaving me all alone."
We parted, our hearts aching with hope and knowledge of work that needed to be done. I returned to the balcony, biting cool night air on my skin. Lanterns cast pools of soft light on the balcony, and roses shone silver in the moon.
Caspian came after, thudding footfalls on stone. He was at my side, no word. Between us lay silence, and I knew love was not this grand moment or deed, but a decision—one that required courage and honesty.
I gazed up at him, my fierce gaze meeting his. "We'll rebuild," I whispered. "One day at a time."
His fingers wrapped around mine. "One day at a time," he said.
And there, under the all-seeing eye of the sky, we held together—our hopes shattered, but our promises un shattered, moving on into the pale light of understanding and faith.
But I knew deep down in my that this issue was far from over. What we just did was to paper over the cracks that had come in between the two of us. I was at my breaking point but I did not want to tell him that because I was afraid of hurting his feelings. Me being at that state wasn’t my fault, it was all Caspian’s doing because he betrayed my trust, he caught me off guard with something that we both agreed we weren’t ready for. I knew it would take a while for us to build back what we had together because I was now sure that whatever he did from now was born out of fear and not love.