Kristie Cook - Promise

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course! More than anything."

"But not enough to share something so important to you."

I sighed. How'd we get on the subject of my book? "You wouldn't even like it."

"And you're making that decision for me?"

"Tristan, it's about a witch and a werewolf and their unlikely romance and magic and myths—the stuff you laugh at me about."

"I don't laugh at you." He scowled. "I just don't understand your fascination with them."

"And I don't understand your fascination with numbers and angles and the lines of a building."

"But you like the finished product." He waved his hand toward the house models. "I would like to see your finished product."

I sighed again. He had a point. "It's not even a finished product. It's just a draft. It needs revisions, holes in the plot need filling…"

"I don't care . It's important to you, so it's important to me. Why can't you share it?" He studied my face, his eyes filled with sadness. "Why can't you share yourself? Even if I'm not there yet, I thought you would want to be with me by now. But you don't."

The pain and rejection in his voice felt like daggers in my heart.

"Tristan, we both need more time. We'll get there."

"But why , Alexis? Why do you need more time?"

"I don't know," I whispered honestly.

"I do know. You're still protecting yourself, protecting those most personal, intimate parts. You won't let me read your book. You stop me from enjoying your body, even when I can go further. Why can't you give yourself fully to me yet?"

I sighed sadly, leaned over and pressed my forehead to my knees.

"You still don't trust me," he answered himself.

The words burned my ears and tears stung my eyes as I realized he was right. I was willing to give him the rest of my life, but I couldn't give him all of me .

"Tristan…," I mumbled into my thighs.

He sighed heavily, sadly. "You don't need to say anything, Alexis. I get it. You love me…just not completely."

I sat up and saw the pain written all over his face. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Tristan, please…," I whispered. "I do love you, more than…"

"Just stop, Alexis. I know you love me. But stop lying to us both about how much. Don't even say it until you can completely trust me with everything . Otherwise, it's not the same love I have for you."

He stood up and strode over to the wall of windows, staring out at the darkness spanning to the horizon. I leaned back over my thighs and cried into them for several minutes.

"Do you want your ring back?" I asked, choking on the words.

He was on his knees in front of me in a flash.

"Is that what you want ?" His voice cracked with pain on the last word.

" No! " I cried.

He cupped the side of my face in his hand. "Then it is yours always, just as my heart is. I just hope, one day, I will have yours…all of it."

After that critical night, our relationship felt fragile and brittle, like it would shatter from the least bit of pressure. We spent time with each other every day, but not as much and conversation felt superficial, sometimes even forced. Sex wasn't even an issue because we didn't even try. I missed the emotional and physical closeness and berated myself for not letting him completely in, but I didn't know what to do to knock that wall down. I questioned just how much I did love him and if it would ever be enough to completely trust him. If I was even capable of loving that much.

I thought maybe it was just my self-image and fantasized about the Ang'dora , hoping I'd become as gorgeous as Mom. And a better match for Tristan.

"Mom, when will I change…become like you?" I asked one night when we were alone, putting my textbook to the side. We had more of those alone nights lately. I could feel Tristan pulling away out of pain and I couldn't seem to pull him back.

She shrugged and put her own book down. "It's been different for all of us. It seems we must experience a certain amount of real humanity. We haven't been able to pinpoint a specific cause-effect relationship, so it's difficult to say when or what will do it."

"When did it happen for you?"

"I was thirty-four, but I was the youngest ever. I was also the only one to have a baby after the Ang'dora . Besides me, the ages have ranged from thirty-eight to fifty-something. Most were somewhere in their forties."

"I'll get that old first?" I wondered. I hadn't been prepared for that. Mom had never given me details before and I just assumed she stopped aging in her mid-twenties. Tristan said he just stopped aging at twenty-one, so I thought it was the same for us.

I thought about the idea of living that many years as a somewhat normal human. It meant there was a good chance I could still have the settled life I sought, at least for a while. But then I realized I would get old and Tristan would not. I knew there would be some difference—Mom looked older than Tristan—but I'd never expected I would be near forty …or older .

I sighed sadly. "I hoped it would be sooner so maybe Tristan and I could get past this."

"I wish I could help, but we really don't know, honey. This is something you'll have to get through on your own. All I really know is we have each experienced true love first. Real love, like what you and Tristan have. So who knows with you? You're quite different than the rest of us, anyway."

"Will I be as beautiful as you and Tristan?"

She smiled brightly. "You will be splendid . Ours is an inner beauty that radiates outward. It is part of who we are. And you have so much love, hope and faith within you already—you will outshine all of us."

I figured that's what all Amadis moms told their daughters, because I surely didn't feel much love, hope and faith. In fact, they seemed to be buried under despair and distrust…mostly distrust of myself.

"As for Tristan," Mom continued, "he was made to be exceedingly attractive, another tool in his toolbox—or bait in his tackle box would be more accurate. I do have to say, though, his outer beauty has improved since the first time I met him and, I admit, he's become even more exquisite over the last several months."

I thought I was the only one who noticed. Great. He's getting even more attractive and I'm still plain me .

The night following my last final exam, Tristan and I met some of my classmates at Mario's to celebrate surviving the semester. Carlie from communications had been in one of my spring classes, too. She'd invited us to join her, along with her roommate and another friend and a couple of guys from our class, since they were coming to the Cape. Neither Tristan nor I really wanted to be there, but it was something to do to avoid being alone.

Not particularly enjoying the conversation, I slipped into observation mode. Carlie's roommate and friend were a lot like her—pretty in an all-American, girl-next-door kind of way. I noticed they were quite flirtatious with Tristan and, for someone who didn't want to be there, he was exceptionally warm toward them.

After seeing the engagement ring on my finger, Carlie had mentioned once that maybe she'd been wrong about Tristan. I wondered now if she'd noticed what Mom and I had and decided he wasn't so scary after all. She'd been right in the beginning that there was a dangerous side to him, but…she missed the part of how exceptionally loving and generous he was, too. He was an unbelievably rare and beautiful creature, inside and out, and I was doing a pretty good job of completely blowing it with him. I sighed.

His head snapped up and he looked at me with an odd expression, then his eyes darted to something behind me. I couldn't tell if anger or interest flickered in his eyes as they narrowed. He pursed his lips, then went back to the conversation with the girls. I was so used to being the center of his attention, I even noticed how he hadn't looked back at me, but focused immediately and directly on Carlie and her friends.