Your heart has been broken
But I could still see true love shine in your eyes

I was so lost in my own grief that it barely registered when your hand landed on my forearm. As I watched them lower the casket into the ground, I realized that comfort was no longer my lover. A deep seeded despair had taken residence in my heart, so much so, that even the warmth of your hand couldn't pull me back.

"Matt?"

I turned my head and looked down into your beautiful hazel eyes. My icy blues held resentment for you because even though you hurt, you didn't hurt as I did. You weren't feeling what I was feeling and for the first time — since I'd found out about the cancer — I felt truly alone. I looked away. Your eyes were always my downfall.

"Matthew?"

"What?" I said more forcefully than I had intended. Out of my periphery, I saw you flinch and I hated myself for scaring you.

"We will get through this," you soothed.

Contempt for the word "we" had me pulling away from your touch. You didn't know what it was like to lose an integral part of yourself. She wasn't your mother. You didn't understand how I was feeling. You couldn't.

I didn't want you to.

"It's my grief, Noel. Not yours."

Your head snapped up and fire burned in your eyes. Behind the anger, I knew I'd hurt you. I didn't thrill me to do so, but it made me feel empowered to know that a few little words could affect you. 

"I cared for her too, damn it. Don't push me away like this." Your watery plea broke through some of the ice that had begun to form around me. I couldn't intentionally hurt you and not hurt myself indirectly. 

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I pulled you close and murmured into your silky ebony curls. "I know you cared."

"I did...do." She stepped back and with her eyes glistening with tears, cupped my face with both hands. "And I care about you, too."

I sighed. Caring was a whole hell of a lot different than love.

"What?" You caught the undertone of that sigh.

I was sick of keeping these feelings to myself. I needed you to know how deeply you affected me.

I shook my head. "Just..." I leaned down and wrapped my arms around your waist and pulled you into another embrace. I poured my soul into this one. I hoped to transfer some of these emotions to you. You tensed at first but eventually you let me hold you. When you relaxed, I took a moment to bury my nose in your hair. You always smelled of something flowery. A field of sunflowers came to mind whenever you were close enough for me to catch your scent.

"Matthew?"

I heard your hesitation but I continued to hold you.

"Noel." I breathed deeply, mesmerizing the feel of you, how you molded perfectly to my body.

It was a perfect moment, regardless of the circumstances. Mom was somewhere smiling down upon us, I was sure of it.

"Noel!"

We both turned sharply and watched a figure stalk across the burial ground toward us. I began to step in front of you but you stepped around me to greet the intruder.

"Evan? W-what are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to a funeral today?"

"Because, it was personal."

I could hear the annoyance in your voice. You didn't want him to know about today and I delighted in the fact that you kept him out of it. To know that you thought of what my mother might have wanted meant more to me than you could have ever known. I was sure she was probably looking down from heaven cursing the guy's name.

"I'm your fiancé, Noel." He had a vice grip on your shoulders. "You shouldn't have kept this from me."

I watched the exchange between the two of you. This was the guy you were going to marry? I could have rolled my eyes at his stuffy demeanor. His dark wool pea coat kept out the November chill and fell just above his knees. He was tall in stature, with broad shoulders, an angular jaw and dark skin. He was probably what you might have called the epitome of a Black Adonis but I was happy to continue to refer to him as "the bastard who didn't deserve you."

I was also relieved to find that I'd never seen him before in my life. Having discovered that I'd seen your fiancée in passing would have surely killed me.

"You shouldn't have come," you said, and I could barely contain a snort.

Good luck telling a guy like that that he shouldn't have done anything. I could smell his type from a mile away — controlling, egomaniacal, and the kind of guy who thought the world was the supposed to fall at his feet.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just thought you could have used a shoulder to cry on."

I rolled my eyes at that remark and looked down into the hollow pit that held my mother's casket. I hoped she wasn't rolling in her grave listening to all of this.

"Evan, I'm fine. I think you should go."

"Noel, you're being rude," he chastised and turned to me. "Hello, I'm Evan Phelps. My deepest sympathies."

I kept my back to him. The guy was unbelievable. He couldn't know how much will power it took to keep from grabbing him by the lapels and tossing him into the pile of dirt set to be placed atop of mom's grave.

With a solemn expression, I turned to see his hand outstretched. I took it quickly and held his gaze.

"Matt Edwards. And thank you."

Mom was definitely turning in her grave. 

"Evan." Your voice was cold and disconnected. I didn't like how it sounded when he was around. "Can you please give me and Matthew a moment...alone?"

Without much protest, he began to back away, eyeing us. I wasn't sure if he'd caught what passed between the two of us but I couldn't really say I cared. Once his retreating back was a safe distance away, I turned back to you.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"It wasn't his business," you said with conviction.

I smirked and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets to keep from reaching for the strains of hair that danced around your face.

"When's the wedding?"

I knew on what day the wedding fell. I'd received your invitation last week. It gone from a crisp piece of stationary with scrolling cursive over it to a crumpled ball in the corner of my room. I may not have wanted to recollect the day, but I knew it.

You opened your mouth to answer and shut it just as quickly. "That's not important right now."

"What is?" I watched you inquisitively.

You stepped closer and reached into my pocket, retrieving my hand. You intertwined our fingers and searched my eyes. "This is." You leaned into my side and stood with me before my mother's open grave.

As much as I wanted to push you away, my heart just wouldn't allow it. I must have been a masochist. It broke my heart to know that I couldn't have you but I just kept pushing forward, hoping maybe, you'd see the light. I knew that loving you was a mistake, especially with your wedding looming overhead.

And what hurt even more was that you let me continue to make a fool of myself.

The day before your wedding was the culmination of everything I'd felt, flooding to the surface. My mother had been buried a month to the day, and the emptiness of not having her around was eating me from the inside out. I would have taken up smoking just to rid myself of the jitters in my stomach, but luckily, you asked me over to your apartment. I could here the desperation in your voice, even though you tried to conceal it.

I'd just gotten through the door after a grueling 12-hour day at the office. Nothing had gone right and I was looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing while I got as drunk as possible before I passed out. The thought of sprawling out across my bed had me sighing in pleasure but you were having none of that. My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket and some how, I knew it was you.

"Are you alright?" I asked and pulled my necktie loose.

"Of course. I just...I just need to see a familiar face." You tried a weak laugh but I wasn't buying it.

"Noel, it's the night before your wedding. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

Your parents didn't much approve of you associating yourself with me or inviting me to the wedding. They could obviously see how I felt about their daughter every time I watched you. I'd come to discover that your family was more than well off, with your father having been a financial investor in the early 90s. People had most likely called him a senseless wit, but he'd taken a leap of faith and it'd paid off in the end.

"Matthew, please. Just come over and talk with me?"

I sighed and rubbed the underside of my chin. "Just let me change and I'll be over in 20 minutes."

I wasn't sure if agreeing to meet you was a leap of faith as much as a long fall off a high cliff. Many would call me a fool for acquiescing but I had to trust in my gut.

So, I agreed to meet you.