The return of my numbness was liberating, but the crying still hasn't stopped. I've been trying to sleep for three hours now, but to no surprise, I've been unsuccessful. The only thing I've managed to do is start gnawing on Z's bracelet like I used to do, feeling the small links bend and mold between my molars. I catch myself doing it and pull it from my mouth. I pull it away from me and watch the teddy bear slowly spin back and forth, the tiny, blue stone sparkling in the dim light.

The tiny, blue stone.

Ignorance may be bliss, but my bliss is long gone. Wiping my cheeks, I get up and walk through the living room. 

When I make it to Remy's room, I let myself in without knocking. He's not inside, but the light from the bathroom shines through the ajar door. I climb under his sheets, and relax into the fluffy pillows I always threaten to steal. As I hug one to my chest, I don't feel the usual comfort they bring me. I don't feel much of anything.

Remy walks out of the bathroom tightening the strings of his old pair of gray sweatpants. He looks at me with a concerned expression. "Hey, hon. You okay?"

"Not really." I nuzzle my face further into the pillow.

He frowns and climbs in under the covers without another word. I look away because I can feel the stupid tears still rolling down my cheeks every few seconds. They won't stop. I'm not sure they ever will. His hand strokes over my hair, soothing me like he always does. He cares too much about me, but now I know why.

"I don't hate you, Remy," I tell him. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I know you don't," he whispers, running a thumb over my cheek in a futile attempt to dry it.

I grab his hand with mine and finally look him in the eyes. "No more secrets," I cry. His brow creases as he nods. He looks so guilty, but I feel nothing but numb. I can't blame him for anything. I don't want to anymore. "I mean it, Remy. I can't stand the idea of anything coming between us."

"No more. I promise you."

"You can't keep me away from shit to protect me," I scold him with a wavering voice. "I need to know everything. Even if it hurts."

"Okay."

I settle back on my pillow and stare at nothing. Taking a shaky breath, I calm myself. "It makes so much sense now, but I just don't understand how I never figured it out," I start to say. "Why would they pretend I was theirs? And how did they cover it all up?"

"You know Angelo and Izabela -- two of the biggest hypocrites in the world. They didn't want a teen pregnancy to ruin their wholesome image," he answers. He rolls to his back, tucking a hand under his head. He stares up at the ceiling and explains, "Z said they kept her in the house and homeschooled her when she started showing. She said they never let her leave, even when she gave birth." I shiver though I don't feel cold or afraid. "I'm sure they paid someone off for the paperwork, same as everything else."

Fucking hell. As if her father using her to impress and reward his associates wasn't enough, he probably convinced her that letting him raise me was better, too. Her semester with Gabriele in Italy was probably the time of her life ... and then it was all taken away when she got pregnant again. As I squeeze the pillow tight against my chest, I catch another glimpse of the bracelet. "Did you know her other baby was a boy?" I ask him.

His mouth twists slightly, but he nods. "She talked about him sometimes when she cried."

"I have a brother. Or ... a half-brother, I guess." I stare blankly at nothing, the tears still leaking from my eyes. I'm lucky my numbness remains when I ask, "Did she even know which man was my father?"

Remy looks over at me. "Yes. Gabriele."

I give him a confused look. "What? How?"

"He was a foreign exchange student at her boarding school," he answers. I stare at him in disbelief. "He was her first. He was the only one before Angelo started his fucked up bullshit."

A feeling flutters in my chest, but it leaves quickly. "She loved him," I say.

"All her plans were to get back to him. Pursuing architecture rather than art like she wanted, applying for Northeastern because of their partner school in Florence ... All of it was to be with him again." Remy's mouth twists as he looks away. "She never stopped loving him."

It's odd to see Z in this light, the heartbroken lover. The Z I knew could have anyone she wanted. The day she met Remy outside of my school, I knew she would break his heart, but I never thought it was because her heart belonged to someone else. "I'm sorry she couldn't love you in the same way," I whisper.

I watch Remy's brow tense, his expression grow darker. The pain of his own unrequited love still lingers, so much like the woman he loved. Why does life have to be so fucking cruel?

I move closer to him, hoping to give him comfort while I fill in the rest of the blanks. "She went halfway around the world for him. Why didn't they stay together?" I ask. 

"Because some men think parenthood is optional."

My brow tenses as I feel a faint ache in my chest. "All she wanted was him, but he didn't want us," I say to myself. "And she didn't want my brother to end up like me." I fight to hold on to the last of my numbness.

"Maggie, no ..." he sighs. "That isn't what this is. She loved Gabriele, yes, but not more than you. That's why she came back."

I start to cry. "But she didn't stay."

"Mags ..." He moves closer to me under the covers. "You always tell me our parents made us, but they don't make us who we are." He brushes his fingers into my hair and I look at him. "You're still the same badass, independent woman you've always been. Knowing the truth doesn't change that."

"Independent?" I almost laugh. I want to believe him, I do, but I can't seem to believe anything good right now. "I've been trying to make a life for myself so I have something I can call mine -- something not tainted by all the shit that happened to us. I'm alone because everyone leaves me, Remy. Everyone. People only stay to hurt you then they leave. That's what she taught me," I cry.

"Not me," he says.

"Then I'll push you away," I tell him, my voice wavering with my tears. "You are the only person I trust, yet I've been lying to you, trying to find a way to leave you before you can leave me -- because you will. One way or another."

His hazel eyes bounce between mine. "No. I won't."

I sniffle and roll my eyes. "You can't say that."

"I just did." He leans up on his elbow to look down at me, and grips my face, adding an air of intent to his words. "You can kick and scream and push as hard as you want, but it won't work on me. I will always be with you because I will always want to be. I promise you."

I stare at him unblinking, feeling nothing but the single tear that escapes. He can't promise that, I tell myself. No one can promise that.

He stares back at me wordlessly, his expression ... confusing. Without another word, he leans down to me, catching my lips with his.

His kiss is different -- softer, more intent. As I close my eyes, something inside me stirs. I revel in his taste, the soft way his lips linger against mine, the comfort of his gentle grasp.

He pulls away and my eyes flutter back open. I watch as he rests his head back on his pillow as if nothing happened. But it did. What, I'm not sure. All I know is I can't get the feeling of his lips out of my mind. It feels as if it were the first kiss I've ever had. It is the first thing I've felt in days that didn't hurt.

I wrap my arm around his middle and pull myself closer to him. My lips press against his again, feeling the warm comfort again. But he doesn't kiss me back. He only placates me, keeping me from more. But I don't stop. I can't. After a couple of unrequited attempts, he gives in.

It surprises me at first, the way his lips feel so strong against mine. He pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. His hand slides to the nape of my neck and as he grips it gently, my breath leaves me completely.

He sighs as he traces his tongue over my lips and I open my mouth to encourage him to give me more. His tongue moves gently into my mouth, caressing mine slowly, soothingly, as if telling me everything will be okay. When his lips close over mine again, I hum with pleasure I didn't know I could feel.

His lips leave mine and we look at each other. His eyes swim with a mixture of emotions I can't quite place, but yet, I understand him completely. My body craves more of him, my mind wants the comfortable reprieve of the connection between us. I look into his eyes and see a reflection of what I'm thinking.

I pull him back to me and kiss him again.

Our kisses become more passionate, desperate. As we get lost in it all, I feel him start to move against my leg. My hands trace down his chest, over his firm stomach, slowly sinking lower. I reach down and touch him through his pants. He pulls away, but he doesn't move to stop me.

I reach in and begin stroking him, feeling him begin to move in time with my hand. He runs his fingertips slowly down my spine, every inch of my skin prickles in response. His breath is warm against my lips when his hand moves even lower.

With a low growl, his lips take mine again. This is happening.

We lose ourselves to the feeling. His hands caress my skin, touching areas of me that he's never explored before. The newness is exciting, exhilarating. It makes me want more. His erection begins to strain against his pants.

We break the kiss only for my shirt to come off over my head. He runs a hand over my breast, down my stomach, and over my hip. He tangles his fingers into the side of my panties and begins to pull them from me, but stops, gripping my hip again instead. He's hesitating.

I pull my panties off, take his hand in mine, and coax it between my legs. A moan escapes me when he finds my wet center with his fingertips.

He strokes his fingertips against me, delving in just the tip of a finger to press against my most sensitive spot, and then dragging it out slowly to run it over my sensitive clit. As he continues the teasing dance, I grip him tighter in my hand. The heat builds inside me, threatening to explode. It blinds me to everything else.

I tear his pants from him moving down to pull them from his legs. I take my place between his propped up knees and grab him with my hand. Running my tongue over his entire length, I marvel at the perfection I had been ignoring. When my tongue traces over his tip, I slip him between my lips. His cock swells as I start to suck.

He groans and weaves the fingers of both hands into my hair. His grip is firm, yet gentle, letting me work. As he hardens further, he barely fits between my teeth. I suck just the tip and circle my tongue over his head as I stroke him, tasting the saltiness that slips from him as I do.

When I look up, he pulls my head towards him. We kiss hungrily as we cling to each other. I climb up onto his lap, pulling his face closer as his fingers still tangled into my hair when he does the same. I grind myself against him, feeling his rigid length sliding between the slickness of my folds. My body pleads to feel him inside me, to feel something, anything. But with a sigh, he pulls away from the kiss.

"We shouldn't do this," he whispers.

I watch him as his eyes trace over my body, his mouth agape with his labored breath, his eyes heavy with desire. He wants this. He just doesn't want to admit it.

I brush my lips against his and ask, "Why not?"

"Because I'll hurt you." 

"You won't," I whisper against his lips.

He pulls away from me and looks ashamed. "I'll want to."

I trace my hands over the perfect angle of his jaw as I kiss him passionately. When my lips leave his, I look him in the eyes. "Then do it."

_____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Don't forget to vote, comment, and add to your library if you want more.