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Distracted from the unwanted alcohol by this statement, I grin. “Oh, you have no idea.”
Without any hesitation, I launch into the conversation, and just like with Petra, having an interested, unbiased audience soothes my soul.
Dinner is fucking terrible, just like I thought it would be. Elise sits next to me, but we barely speak. I assume she’s just here to make sure I don’t bolt. Unfortunately, I’m a lot hungrier than I thought I was, and the food is fantastic, so I wouldn't have left anyway.
“Glad to see you join the land of the living,” Elise whispers.
“Unwillingly,” I gripe, and my sister rolls her eyes.
Everyone wants to talk to me, and I field what feels like a million questions with vague, short answers, but it’s enough to keep Mom happy. The biggest dark spot is watching Mom be so affectionate with my dad, knowing that he had treated me so cruelly the night before, but there is nothing to be done about it. I just chew, swallow, and try my best to get through the painfully long meal.
Finally, it’s over, and while Alex tries to convince me to join the men for port and cigars, I make an excuse about smoke sensitivity and slip away while no one is watching.
Just like New Year's Eve, the terrace is empty because of the cold, but there are a few radiant heaters scattered about to provide enough warmth to any intrepid outside adventurers. I lean against the railing, letting out a long sigh of relief at having survived the party for the most part. I still wouldn’t have gone if I had my say in the matter, but now no one can blame me for not trying.
I get a few moments of peace before I hear the door open, and I turn, relaxing when I see it’s only Petra.
“Hey, sorry,” she gives me a small wave. “How are you doing?”
I shrug, turning back around as she joins me on the railing. “Fine, I guess. I just don’t want to be surrounded by people right now. It’s suffocating.”
She nods understandingly. “Yeah. It’s hard to tolerate these enormous groups when you’re torn up inside.”
I make a noise of agreement, but don’t speak. Petra endures the quiet for a moment before she makes yet another question. This time though, it’s even more personal. “You’re still thinking about her, huh?”
And of course she’s right. All night I’ve wanted Roxanne at my side. Between her and I there was no scheming plans or political intrigue. It was just love, and I missed it fiercely.
“It’s hard not to,” I admit. “The second time I ever met her was one this terrace.”
Petra blinks in confusion. “Wait, she came here before you were even together?”
“Yep, she was the plus one of a guy that works at my dad’s company.” I exhale slowly, talking past the tightness in my throat. “The first time I met her was at the University of Amsterdam. I was lost, and she showed me the way. In those brief minutes we walked together, there was something between us. Something that told me I’d see her again.”
“You seem to love her quite a bit,” Petra breathes, caught up in the story. “Are you sure it’s really over for good?”
It’s the question I’ve been asking myself every waking moment it seems like, but hearing it said out loud by someone other than myself hits me like a ton of bricks.
“I do love her. To the point I have a hard time going through the motions of everyday life without thinking of her constantly. But I have to move on…” I swallow hard, humiliated at the impact my ex still has on me. “I just don’t know how to… how to let her go.”
I close my eyes tightly when they start to burn with tears and take a few deep breaths to refocus myself.
Petra quietly asks me, “Is it unforgivable?”
No, I think for the split of a second, but brush the thought immediately away. Since I take longer to respond, she adds, “What she did, that is?”
“She lied,” I say, keeping it short. “Too much for me to be able to just let it go.”
Petra winces in empathy. “Maybe she did it because she was afraid to lose you?” Her suggestion reminds me of what Dan told me. “Why don’t you give her a second chance? She’s just human, after all. We all make mistakes.”
I smile wistfully at Petra. Throughout the night, I had realized what was going on with my mother forcing Petra’s company on me and why she was making so many questions. After a brief Google search, it wasn’t hard to find out why—according to a news article, she had successfully managed to find a partner for her best friend; some renowned Japanese artist, and knowing my mom as I do, she’s probably hopeful Petra can do the same for me.
“I thought Mom sent you here to hook me up with some other perfect woman? She’s been trying to dissuade me from even thinking about her.” Petra’s mouth opens in an ‘o’ of surprise, so I make up an explanation. “Everyone has heard about your friend Emma and that artist Shiori.”
“Of course they have,” Petra grumbles, sipping her glass of champagne. “Yeah, she brought me here to find you a partner, but I didn’t know the details.” She pauses, searching my eyes with her own. “Do you think she still loves you?”
“Yeah,” I say immediately. To me, there is no doubt. I saw it in her eyes the last time we met. “She’s been trying to reach out nonstop.”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. “I’m so damn confused. On one hand, I want to forgive her, but on the other…” I let my words trail off before letting out a breath. “My family is very much against me seeing her, and she works in an industry I’m fairly against, morally speaking.”
