KIMBERLY

sworn believer that your body had a way of knowing when things were going to go wrong.

In my life, there were rarely moments where staying happy was an option. Something always found a way to fuck shit up. It's been a week since the kiss. And, for the first time, I didn't shut Jace out the way I was expecting myself to.

Dinner with his family was successful, if I say so myself. Alex was the happiest I've seen him in a while, Effie felt touched that Jace made an effort to get to know her, and the twins were excited to finally have a decent conversation with their brother.

I didn't miss the glances they were all sending, looking between us.

Jace had a carefree aura after the kiss. We didn't do anything but kiss, which was more enjoyable than I could've ever anticipated. I would never get over the feeling of his lips on mine, smiling every five seconds, telling me how beautiful I was.

Throughout the dinner, he kept his hand wrapped around mine, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb, scared that I would pull back the way I always do.

Not even a second after the Kingstons left, Jace pushed me against the door, kissing me with the same wonderment he did earlier.

That night—and every night since—I woke up to the smell of him cocooning me against his black, silk bed sheets as his warmth filled me up with unprecedented euphoria.

This is precisely how I knew shit was going to hit the fan.

Life never stayed happy for me.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in for a few hours?" Jace asked me from the foot of the bed, buttoning his shirt.

I could get used to the sight of him getting ready forever. This was wrong.

He deserves better.

"Yeah," I reluctantly admitted. "I don't feel too well." He came up to me and placed the back of his hand against my forehead. "Not that kind of sick, dumbass," I muttered, rolling my eyes, causing him to tug at my hair.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he half-heartedly warned. "Do you want me to stay home?"

"I'll be fine," I sighed. "Plus, you have a lot of work to do."

"Yeah, thanks to a certain somebody." He leaned down to press his lips against mine in a small kiss.

Why does my heart hurt so much?

It felt so heavy and so impossible to carry in my own body. There were no words to describe how lost I was feeling, but I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want to burden Jace with the complexities of my emotions, knowing that he wasn't the one at fault.

I was.

So I kept the smile on my face as he pulled away, taking the remains of the contentment he gave me with him.

It was nighttime and definitely late for him to be going to work, but Van called him about an emergency he needed to mediate. Ever since the news about Laurent broke out, many companies have backed out of their support for the company, causing a scramble in the business world.

There was a part of me that felt guilty for this uproar, but it was worth it.

I'd do it a million times if it met that those assholes got the punishment they deserve.

So far, Nathan Laurent hasn't come out with any statements about his father's actions. There was still confusion as to what his stance was, but I wasn't holding my breath over it.

He was raised by an asshole—something he's proven a million times—so the chances of him following in his father's footsteps were high.

I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his threat from last time rang through my head.

"I do seem to love causing trouble," I teased, still feeling the high of his kiss.

"As long as it's me you're troubling, I don't seem to mind."

He leaned in for another short kiss, but I didn't let him pull away too soon. Biting his lower lip, I memorized the sound of his groan as he wove his fingers into my hair.

I ran my tongue along the seam of his mouth, relishing how he gave in and let me have control. My arm wrapped around the back of his neck—pulling him down on top of me—as my other hand caressed the stubble of his jaw.

Jace groaned again into my mouth, taking his hands out of my hair and spreading my legs apart, grinding against me.

It took me moaning for him to reluctantly pull away. "You make it impossible for me to want to leave."

"Good," I replied cheekily. "Although, I can't take all the blame. I did warn you about how addicting I am."

"You're right. I'm the one at fault for underestimating you." I nodded as he rolled his eyes. "I don't know how long I'll be, but make sure you eat. And please don't attempt to cook. There's leftovers or you can get something delivered."

I rolled my eyes at his insinuation of my terrible cooking skills. So what if I may have almost burned the house down a few times? It wasn't my fault.

"What did I say about rolling these?" He leaned over to kiss my eyelids.

Someone's in an affectionate mood...

"Get out before I stab you," I muttered, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed.

"My girl's so violent."

I reached down to pick up my slipper as he maneuvered away, his laugh echoing down the hall.

♕♕♕

Jace wasn't underestimating when he said he didn't know how long it was going to take.

It was already half-past-ten, and my stomach has been making insanely inhuman noises for the last hour. The part of me that was going to wait for him before eating was thrown out the window the second the grumbling stomach became painful.

I ordered takeout from this Mediterranean restaurant that was about a fifteen-minute walk from the house.

Even though Jace said to get the food delivered, I needed the walk to clear my head. The crisp December weather has always been my favorite for some obscure reason. While most people would head indoors with these obscenely cold temperatures, I liked being able to cool down once in a while.

I wasn't kidding when I said my body was practically a sauna.

With Jace not around, I probably should have called Darius to walk with me, but it was late and I didn't feel comfortable with him making the journey considering how late it was. Add the fact that it was a school night and he was in charge of his teenage sister, calling him was out of the equation.

So, with a decently thick jacket, I trudged my way to the restaurant.

The child in me loved blowing out hot air to see the clouds of smoke around me, but the satisfaction died when the chill turned creepy.

Suddenly, I wasn't the 'winter in NYC' chills going down my spine. It was the 'someone's watching me' chills—one that I was all too familiar with.

I turned around, fisting my keys between my fingers. There was no one there, but I could feel their presence.

None of the cars appeared to be on, furthering my suspicion. I swear I saw movement in one of the cars further down.

Kim, you're just paranoid because you've been happy. Calm down, you're fine.

Stop trying to gaslight me.

I am you.

Shut up.

With a deep breath, I took out my phone and shot Jace a quick text.

Hey, I'm getting us food from the Mediterranean place close to our house.

Are you getting it delivered?

No, it's a short walk and I needed the fresh air.

Fine. Stay safe, I'll be home soon.

I'll be on the bed... eating... naked.

Venus, you're killing me. I'm trying to work.

With a smile on my face, I typed out another message while waiting at the crosswalk. When it changed from the red hand to the little man, I took a step onto the road.

Before I had a chance to process it, bright, white lights came barreling towards me. I barely got out of the way when the side of the car hit me, my head forcefully hitting the asphalt.

Dots clouded my vision as I tried getting up, but it was impossible.

My body felt like it weighed a million pounds of pure steel and my head was spinning faster and faster by the second. It felt fucking miserable.

And all I wanted to do was rest.

♕♕♕

Everything was an unfamiliar and alarming shade of white.

If this is Heaven, I don't want it.

Wait, please don't tell me I'm dead.

"You're not dead, angel," a voice called out.

No. No. No.

Not a single limb in my body wanted to turn around to confront the voice I knew by heart. The voice I spent so long being crazily in love with. The voice I tried so hard to forget for the last seven years.

I should've known the nosy-bitch in me was weak to the wiles of curiosity.

With bated breath, I turned around to see him.

My Marcel.

"Marcy," I breathed out, falling to my knees. The pain from the day he left hit me harder than the car as memories flooded my brain like a tsunami.

Marcel Vivas—the boy I used to love—was standing in front of me, dressed in all-white.

He looked exactly the way he did when we were eighteen.

I reached out to touch him... hold him... hug him. Anything. I would do anything to finally seek the embrace and comfort that we used to give so well.

But the option was ripped away from me, my hand sliced through his body, hitting the white floors before I even realized it.

"No," I cried. "Marcy."

I silently sobbed on the floor, mourning the loss of him all over again.

"Angel, don't cry," he soothing, the light aura of his hand hovering over my head. It was the closest I could get to feeling him, so I soaked it up like a sponge. "You know I hate it when you cry."

"You don't get a say in what I do," I croaked, the tears making me sound like a toddler. "You lost that right when you left me."

He smiled sadly. "You know I never wanted to."

"Too bad," I replied, my bottom lip quivering as more tears fell out. "You left me alone."

"You aren't alone," he reasoned.

"Shut up," I whined. "You know what I mean."

Marcy laughed wholeheartedly, the sound sticking a knife through my heart. "Even when I'm dead, you're still telling me to shut up. I missed you, angel."

"Again," I said. "Not my fault."

"Fine," he mused, the soft carefree smile on his lips shining bright. He didn't look like my last memory of him. The image of him laying on the hospital bed with pale, sickly skin and tired eyes wasn't the boy standing before me.

Instead, he looked the way he did when we shared some of the best moments of our relationship. Our first kiss... our first date... the first time he told me he loved me...

The lightly-tanned skin paired with the curly light brown hair and dark eyes was staring back at me, the same adoration filling his eyes the way they used to. But I couldn't help the part of me that started thinking about Jace.

How Jace's skin was more tan, how Jace had dark brown hair that sometimes looks lighter in the sun, how he always kept a small stubble on his face because I told him I liked the way it felt, how Jace's eyes were more of a hazel-brown that was similar to Carina's, how those eyes stared at me the same way his were...

The thoughts about my husband filled me with more tears.

"Why aren't you keeping your promise?"

"I'm trying, Marcy," I wept. "I'm fucking trying."

His hand left my hair, willing my chin up. "That's not the promise I was talking about."

I froze.

"My stubborn angel," he admonished, shaking his head. "I only asked for a few things."

"What you asked for is impossible," I lied.

Because it wasn't impossible.

If anything, I was feeling it everyday, despite how hard I tried not to.

"Angel," he chastised. "You forget that I'm dead. I see everything. I hear everything. I know everything. I see the way you came back to life after meeting him and how happy he makes you. I hear all your thoughts about how much you feel for him. And I know your heart doesn't beat for me the way it used to. I know it beats for him now, Kim."

He was right.

Even while he was speaking, all I could think about was how Jace never called me Kim. It was only ever Kimberly or Venus or whatever else he felt like calling me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling the tears slowly trail down.

"Don't be," he soothed. "This is what I wanted for you."

"But I promised you I'd never fall for anyone else," I pleaded. "I didn't mean to break it, Marcy. I tried not to, but he made it so hard."

"Angel, if there's one thing you should've learned from our relationship, it's that some promises are meant to be broken."

***

she may be a shortie, but the violent tears i let out while writing this aren't. it didn't help that i kept referencing a scene that i wrote in case i decided to make a book about kim and marcy, which is a fucking tear-jerker.

(lowkey, i think i might want to edit this to make it more gut-wrenching because it felt so fast. tmi, but it's the hormonal bitch in me talking because it's that time of the month and i just want to eat my heart out rn. i don't know, let me know what y'all think.)

anywho, this is by no means close to the end because i'm fucking insane. i just finished planning out the rest of the chapters and i think there's about ten left.

this dream/vision of hers with marcy is only the tip of the iceberg, y'all.

love, zia.