This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I would appreciate all the constructive criticism you can give me. Please no flames! (I'm thinkin' these are mean messages. I'm not totally sure but since I have yet to see a note asking for them, I'm deducing that they're not great to get. I know, you're all thinking where does she get her amazing powers of insight? I can only answer: fish!)
The title was inspired by Rascall Flatts' "Bless the Broken Road" song.
I'm not making any money off this. Please do not sue me.
I don't own the lyrics; I just like them.
I don't own any of the characters...unfortunately. But, if Marvel wants to give them to me...my birthday's coming up...
Oh, and yeah, long live the Romy!
When happily ever after fails
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales
---Don Henley, Age of Innocence
She slid into the booth across from him. He was tracing his fingers over the painted tiles of the tabletop. He mimicked the different designs, following their curves, imitating their motion. All of his attention focused on the swipes of his fingers, his eyes never once rising to catch hers. After a few minutes, her hand moved to cover his and she stroked his knuckles, her gloved touch whispering against his skin. He still didn't look up and she suppressed an exasperated sigh.
He hunched his shoulders and—she didn't think it was possible—stared even more pointedly at the designs on the table. "Anna-Marie, Ah need ya to listen to me. An' don't interrupt me none, either." He kept his head down but didn't remove his hand from under hers.
"We've been datin' for five years now…since we was seventeen. We've even stayed together during college. Ah was here at state an' you were over there at that private university in New York. Even through the whole…no touching thing…
"Ah think you're beautiful, an' smart, an'…an'…well…you know…but…" he drew in a shaky breath and finally raised his face to meet hers. Her brow furrowed as she looked into his wet eyes.
"Cody?" Anxiety swelled in her chest. "Wh-what's goin' on?"
"Oh gawd, Anna…" he pursed his lips, set his jaw, and looked at her again. "Ah met someone."
She snatched her hand back, rubbing it as if she had been physically burned by his words. "What do you mean? What do you mean you 'met someone'? Ah've met lots of people at my school an'…" Her green eyes narrowed. "Did you sleep with her?" She could hear the level of her voice rising as she pronounced each word. Feeling her face grow red, she grabbed the ice water that had appeared in front of her, and held it to her cheek.
"Anna, calm down. We're in a res—"
"Calm down!" she hissed. "Are you for real? If Ah'd just told you that Ah'd found someone else while you were away being totally faithful to me, would you be calm?" She ignored the curious looks of the people sitting across the aisle, her temper getting the better of her. "Answer the question. Did you sleep with her?" Her teeth clenched.
His nostrils flared and he lowered his head, and immediately began tracing the paintings again.
For a moment, she watched his task, watched as he followed the petals of flowers and the line of leaves, watched as he pretended to be an artist, watched as he fought to keep his head down. It was too much; the levy broke. She stiffened, a strange numbness exploding in her chest and sliding out to her fingertips. Tears began to form behind the bridge of her nose so she forced all of her attention on just breathing. Standing, she pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and turned on her heel.
"Anna!" He ran after her, catching the strap, slowing her retreat. "Listen…Ah'm sorry. Ah nevah meant to hurt you. Ah…just…Ah fell in love."
He had to laugh at himself as he stepped off the elevator. "Remy Lebeau, you are one lucky homme!" He fished out the key card to her room and allowed himself a smirk. It had been too easy to swipe it from behind the front desk; the young redhead had just been an added bonus.
Eyeing a room service cart, he snatched a bouquet from its crystal vase. Sliding the key card through and twisting the handle at the same time, he swept into the room in one fluid movement.
The bouquet hit the floor first.
Next, Remy was sure, was his jaw.
"Remy! Wait!" The blonde woman ran through the hotel lobby, her bathrobe flying out behind her, exposing a red and black negligee. She threw her arms around the handsome man's neck. "It wasn't what it looked like, cher!" She forced against his chest, burying her face into him.
His hands were balled up at his sides, he spat out angrily, "Really, Bella? 'Cause it looked like you was fuckin' some ot'er homme."
He slammed his fists into his pockets, stepping away at the same time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Correction: the next thing he wanted to do was hurt her. First thing he wanted to do required a lead pipe and the naked guy in her suite. He allowed himself a satisfying visual and an evil smile.
"Remy! Look, we gotta talk dis t'rough!" Her voice was filled with panic as she raced toward him once more, gripping the sleeve of his coat.
Letting out a strangled chuckle, he set his blazing eyes on her. "You wanna talk!" He sneered, taking a small leather case from his pocket and shoving it in her face. "I came up dere t' ask you t' marry me." He allowed himself an unhappy smile as her eyes widened. She opened and shut her mouth silently. Yeah, hurts don't it? "You a real piece of work, you know dat?" Detaching her hands from his coat, he turned on his heel and moved up the sidewalk.
He was fuming. He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he walked away from her. "Stupid femme." Tears were beginning to run down his face but he angrily wiped them away. More than anger, he felt embarrassed. Embarrassed to have found the woman he thought he loved in a compromising position with another man. Embarrassed to have let his heart get the better of him. Embarrassed that he knew…deep down…despite everything…he probably still loved her. But it was the anger that was currently the strongest emotion and he couldn't resist the urge to throw the price of her infidelity in her face.
Against the side of a building, a rumpled man with an American flag clutched in one hand looked up at him. "Help for a veteran?" He struggled under the angry young man's gaze.
Remy felt his face soften. "Here, homme, maybe you can hock it or somet'in'." He tossed the older gentleman the box.