The Unbroken Luna

10

 Emily’s pov

It had been a few hours since I’d majorly screwed up with Xavier. I didn’t exactly know exactly what I’d screwed up since there was nothing between us... Still, I felt like I'd ruined something. He’d tried to comfort me, and I… I'd had a flashback. When his skin had touched mine, when his hand had closed around my wrist, I could have sworn it had felt like Clayton’s. I knew that it wasn't, that it was Xavier’s; it belonged to the man who’d cooked an entire meal for me, a woman he didn’t even know, but it still had frightened the hell out of me.

Good f*****g job, Emily, I cursed, kicking the soft duvet and heading towards the bathroom to take a shower. I was right: I wasn’t the kind of woman people wanted to be friends with, and my behavior proved that. I couldn’t let someone get close to me, because it would mean drawing a big, red target on their back for Clayton to aim at… and also, how could I ever share a healthy, friendly relationship with another person if I couldn’t function because of my trauma? If I flinched and blocked and stiffened from fear anytime someone touched me, even in the most gentle way?

Angry, I wriggled out of my clothes and went under the shower. The water was boiling hot, and my skin turned bright pink in a matter of seconds, but I didn’t change the temperature. I didn’t even move from the direct line of the steaming water. Instead, I let it fall on my skin, closing my eyes and focusing on the feeling it gave me.

As if it could burn away all the bad things I’d suffered and done. It was a punishing temperature, and I felt like I deserved it.

Xavier returned later that night, around eight o’clock. I was still jet-lagged, but I didn’t want to be disrespectful to my hosts and ask for food at strange hours, so I just complied with their schedule.

If seeing me awake surprised him, he didn’t let it out.

“Hi,” he smiled, again pushing a tray full of food. “How are you doing?”

What was I supposed to tell him? Oh, all right man, thanks for asking. I’ve just been crying under the shower for an entire hour, thinking I’ve ruined a friendship we don’t have because I’m a f*****g traumatized mess who can’t even think straight?

“I’m… doing,” I replied with a small smile, opting for the most honest answer possible. 

“Well, I hope you’re hungry because in case you didn’t notice, I brought dinner,” he chuckled, pulling out a bed table from the tray. He began to set it up, but I stopped him.

“I’ll do it” I offered. “You did it before”.

Xavier didn’t answer: he blinked slowly, but then he nodded with a smile and let me set up the table.

It was the least I could do since he had yet again brought me something to eat and was willing to share that meal and his time with me.

“I want you to know I’m sorry… for what happened before,” I quickly mumbled. “I didn’t want to flinch, I swear, it’s just …”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Xavier’s warm voice washed over me with a soothing feeling. He sat down in front of me and looked at me straight in the eye. “You don’t have to apologize, ever. Emily, you went through hell and just got out of it… having traumas is normal, and you don’t have to be ashamed of it. You’re going to get better soon,” he added with a soft smile. “You’re a strong woman. I’ve no doubts about it. Okay?”

A big part of me wanted to snort at those words. I wasn’t, by any means, a strong woman. Strong women didn’t let their husbands rape, beat, and manipulate them. Strong women didn’t let that kind of men scare them off and make them lie to their friends and family. Still… a small part of me perked up when Xavier said it. A small part believed him and felt complimented by his words.

I’ve run away, though, I thought. I was terrified, but I did it anyway… for my child.

I did it.

Only at that moment, the full realization dawned on me. Until then I’d been fueled by the need to leave, to protect my child, and I’d been focused on that target: leaving Clayton. I didn’t let my mind roam around too much and explore how I actually felt about that, because I did what I had to do. Yes, I’d allowed myself to enjoy minor pleasures, like having a McDonald’s and realizing I’d wanted to eat a burger for so long, but I'd never dwelled too much on that.

Now that I was here, though, warm, safe, and with Xavier’s food in front of me …

I am free.

I let a smile draw on my lips, and I saw a twin smile lightening up Xavier’s features.

“You’re right,” I said and nodded to reinforce it. “I’ll be better”.

“And strong,” he repeated, clearly trying to making me say it.

I complied.

“And strong”.

The smile that formed on his lips when I said it made something purr in my chest, something I couldn’t quite name but that filled me with warmth. I stared into his blue eyes for a moment and looked away as soon as I remembered this guy wasn’t just a random man. He was the Prince, and despite his normal attitude, I couldn’t forget who he was… and who I was.

“So” he smiled. “On tonight’s menu, we have something that might be a little closer to American cuisine”.

“No more stew?” I asked, feeling rather sorry. I really liked that …

“Well, there are some leftovers, if you want” he winked. “I can go get them”.

“Maybe later,” I said. “We might get our bellies full with just this food, after all”.

Xavier nodded and excitedly filled our plates with an indecent quantity of amazing wieners, sauerkraut, and fries, licking his lips in anticipation. 

“I’m going to get fat!” I laughed, looking at the four sausages that were waiting to be eaten on my plate.

“You need to eat for two, remember?” he chuckled. “And by the way, if you’re so scared of turning into a ball of fat, you can always come downstairs and train. We have… well, pretty much everything you need for every sport. A gym, an Olympic pool, a football pitch, tennis and basketball courts… all you want”.

I smiled. Although I never really liked sports, I always loved swimming, and I was even pretty good at it. Training and getting stronger seemed like a good idea… and exploring new activities, too.

“I guess I’ll give it a try,” I said then, eating my sausage.

Xavier, I noticed, ate like a wolf. He devoured his food like a starved man, but the satisfied groans and moans coming from the deep of his throat were clear.

“It’s your favorite food, isn’t it?” I asked.

He looked up at me: his eyes were so wide open they almost made him look comical. He quickly swallowed the bite of food he had in his mouth and then asked: “You… how did you guess it?”

“I mean, you’re literally eating it like it was the last food on earth… it’s pretty obvious,” I said. “My brothers always ate like this whenever I cooked carbonara”.

Xavier blinked slowly before giving me a wide grin. “You know, nobody, except for my family, ever guessed that this was my favorite dish. People always expected me to have more sophisticated tastes, but… I like simple things. I mean, my car is a Volkswagen, so …”

At that point, I couldn’t help but let out a heartfelt laugh, almost choking on my Coke. Xavier stared at me, but then his deep laugh joined mine.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say between a laugh and another. “It’s just… you’re Prince Xavier and… you drive a …”

“An amazing Golf from 1990!” he exclaimed, faking a pout. “A beautiful, beautiful car I’m extremely proud of!”

A 30-year-old car? Prince Xavier drove a 30-year-old car?

I collapsed on the bed, holding my belly and laughing my ass out.

“Oh, come on!”

It took me five minutes to calm down and stop laughing that hard. I breathed in and out a couple of times and, when I was sure that I could look at Xavier without laughing, I went back to our meal.

“I didn’t mean to laugh about your car,” I said, taking a sip of my Coke. “It’s just really hard to imagine a prince driving a 30-year-old Golf. I thought you had… you know, a bunch of supercars”.

“I do have some,” he stated. “But I guess I’ve grown affectionate to Golfie”.

I chuckled. “You gave your car a name?”

Xavier’s ears reddened. “What if I did? I bet you named your car as well”.

“Of course I did… only with my first car, though,” because when Clayton had gifted me my second one, the black Mercedes, for my nineteenth birthday as a mocking reminder of the fact that could never leave him, I didn't have it in me to give it a name. 

I forced that thought away. Look at me now, asshole.

“I named it Donatella,” I admitted.

“Like Donatella Versace?” Xavier asked, amused.

I nodded.

Something shone in his eyes, and the left corner of his mouth twitched up. Xavier muttered something, his voice so low I couldn’t get the words. When I asked him what did he say, he brushed it off.

By that time, our plates were empty and our bellies full.

“Let’s watch something, shall we?” Xavier smiled. While I helped him clear the table, though, I realized we were in my bedroom. Were we supposed to share a bed while watching the tv?

I shuddered at the mere thought. Even if I knew, deep in my bones, that Xavier was a good man, the idea of being in a bed with someone else made me sick to my stomach.

“Xavier, I…” I said, but he interrupted me.

“Downstairs. Obviously,” he smiled gently. “This way, I’ll be able to show you around the palace. You’ve been in here all day”.

I felt so grateful I could have hugged him… but close contacts were still off-limits for me. The way I flinched during lunch when he’d just taken my hand, unfortunately, proved it.

So, I just smiled. “Thank you,” I croaked, my voice thick with emotion.

Xavier slightly bowed his head. “I want you to know,” he murmured softly. “I’ll do everything I can to make you bloom”.

He opened the door and held it open for me. “After you, meine prinzessin”.

I took a hesitant step towards the door, then I stiffened. Was I ready to face the world, other people? Besides Xavier, Franz, the Beta, and Rick, no one knew what happened to me. What if I screwed up? What if… what if I saw someone that even slightly resembled Clayton?

No.

No, I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

I looked at Xavier, tears prickling in my eyes. My throat felt tight, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak, so I just looked at him.

I felt angry and sad, but most of all, I resented myself. I was angry at Clayton because he was damaging my life even now that I was no longer with him; I was sad because I was yet again letting Xavier down. And I resented myself because I was f*****g allowing Clayton to still have that kind of control over my life and emotions.

Somehow, Xavier understood. I knew it by the look in his eyes, a look that resembled way too much to pity.

No, I pleaded. Not you. Please. Please don’t commiserate me. Please …

If he pitied me, then I was screwed. His belief that I was strong enough was the only thing I had at the moment… and if he started to pity me, then I knew he would think that I wasn’t that strong.

Please don’t. Please don’t.

“I understand,” he said with a sad smile, and it felt like the ceiling had crumbled all over me. “I’ll be downstairs if you want to come”.

Without another word, he left, and as soon as he closed the door, tears left my eyes.