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3

Quincy

I should step back. I should walk away. I don’t have to let this one decision define my life. There are other women I can marry to fulfill Amarlo’s condition, without causing more pain to my son. It doesn’t have to be her.

But it has to be her. No one else but her.

She shifts her gaze between me and Lawrence, then fixes me with a surprised and firm look. Her lips tighten, and her eyes flash with intensity. “What made you think it was a good idea to propose to the woman your son almost married?” she spits out.

Lawrence stumbles back. “Y-you proposed to her?” he stammers.

"I’m trying to make amends for your mistakes," I say quietly. And for the first time since Lawrence’s mother left, I’m following my heart.

"'Tis some visitor. Tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more," I say, not taking my eyes off her.

"You’re quoting Poe?" She blinks in surprise.

My son scoffs. "Of course, you’re quoting Poe. Always had some fancy words when you couldn’t come up with anything else."

"I didn’t mean to hurt you." The words escape me, and I wince. Isn’t that what Lawrence just said to her? Am I saying them to her now, or to my son?

My aunt pushes through the onlookers who haven’t yet left the church. They came for a wedding and got a much more interesting spectacle. When she joins the group, there’s apprehension written on her face.

In the crowd sitting in the pews, I notice my nephew Nathaniel. He’s looking at me with a shocked expression.

An older man in a wheelchair rolls down the aisle and stops next to the woman I proposed to.

"What’s happening?" He scowls at me. "Did you ask my daughter to marry you?"

My aunt’s face turns pale. She opens and closes her mouth, struggling to find words.

I turn away from her accusing stare and stand tall. "Yes, it’s true. I asked—" Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I don’t know her name, but since Lawrence called her Eva… "Evangeline to marry me," I say, as if I’ve known it all along. Judging by her lack of surprise, I’m right. "No title can define something so pure. By any name, the feelings remain," I murmur.

Her brow furrows. "Shakespeare," she whispers.

"Fucking Shakespeare. You always thought a verse could excuse anything," my son says bitterly.

"Poems don’t sway me," Evangeline replies, chin raised defiantly.

"Then how did you recognize the quote?" I let a smirk play on my lips.

Her expression turns defiant.

"And I’m not trying to justify what I did." I address my son. "I’m not trying to make you look bad."

Lawrence snorts. "I don’t buy it. Never did. Never will. You’re just thinking about yourself."

I grimace once more. "I deserve that, and your anger. I didn’t intend for this to happen, believe me. It was... Something I couldn’t control. I couldn’t stop myself."

"Is that your excuse?" He shoots me a look filled with so much disdain that I feel my cheeks flush.

"The one thing I claimed as mine. The one thing I wanted to have. And you couldn’t resist ruining it?" He spits out.

I see Evangeline tense at his words.

"You ruined it when you ran away from your own wedding."

My son's face turns crimson, and I worry he might have a heart attack.

"Lawrence, please—"

"Screw you, Quincy." In the next moment, he lunges at me. I see him coming but choose not to move aside. I deserve his anger and his hatred, and it’s better he directs it at me than keeps it bottled up.

He crashes into my chest. I bear his weight without flinching. My son, however, lets out a cry of pain. He clutches his shoulder and glares at me with eyes full of anguish. "You’re an asshole."

"I know."

"I told you not to come. I told you I didn’t want you here. I knew you’d mess everything up." His chest heaves.

I start to retort that he set things in motion, but wisely hold my tongue.

"Did you hurt yourself?" I reach out to him, but he steps back.

"Don’t touch me. I want nothing to do with you," Lawrence shouts.

"How dare you, father and son, toy with my feelings?" Evangeline stomps her foot. "How dare you humiliate me like this? What you did," she nods toward Lawrence, "was bad enough. And then you," she fixes her gaze on me, "make it a thousand times worse. Did you think you could make up for Lawrence's actions by offering yourself instead? Did you think I’d be so desperate to marry anyone that I’d accept your proposal? I’m not some pawn or prize for you to claim. I’m not part of your competition."

"Eva—," Lawrence starts.

"Evangeline—" I begin simultaneously.

"Will both of you just be quiet?" She plants her hands on her hips and glares at us both. "I’ve had enough from both of you."

"But—" I take a step towards her, but she shakes her head.

"Haven’t you done damage enough for one day? Please just leave me alone."

She whirls around and strides down the aisle. The crowd of onlookers clears a path, and with her head held high, she glides away. I start to move after her, but her father wheels to a stop in front of me. I hesitate, torn between stepping around him to pursue her or staying put and letting her leave.

He scrutinizes me. "What are your intentions regarding my daughter?"

She strides towards the exit. In an instant, I see my future slipping away, and I realize I must make a decision. "Evangeline!" I call out.

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