Park Avenue Prince(56)

“You’re right. I do ask you personal questions and there shouldn’t be a double standard,” Grace replied. “Sam and I haven’t known each other very long, but maybe someday.”

Surely Grace understood I wasn’t that man, the one who could commit. I couldn’t give her three children, a house filled with love and laughter and chaos. It was too much to be responsible for.

Too much to lose.

“Excuse me,” I said as my stool scraped against the slate floor of the kitchen. “I’ll get our bags out of the car.” I needed some air. Some distance from a life I could never give Grace. I wasn’t the man who deserved her.

I was anything but.





“I’m sorry for saying that earlier,” Grace said as we shut the door to the pool house. “About marriage, I mean. I know we’re going a million miles an hour and—”

“Hey,” I said, pulling her into my arms. As much as what she’d said had unsettled me, she shouldn’t be apologizing “You have nothing to be sorry for. I like knowing how you feel about these things.” I moved us toward the bed and pushed her onto her back.

She pulled at my shirt until I was leaning over her. “Did I freak you out?”

“You didn’t say anything wrong. Why would I freak out?” I wanted to protect her from my fears.

She grinned as she scraped her nails over my scalp absentmindedly. Her touch went straight to my cock. Every. Time. I had to slow this down—tell her I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

I groaned, rolled away and presented her with an opportunity. Straddling me, she settled on top of me, and my dick hardened four layers beneath her *.

“Are you telling me you’ve thought about marrying me?” she asked as she moved her hips back and forward.

“No, I haven’t.” It was the truth and she deserved that. Her smile faltered, just a fraction. “But you’re the only woman I’ve ever cared about in this way.”

She stopped rocking and tried to move, but I grabbed the tops of her thighs and held her in place. “Talk to me. Is marriage what you’re looking for?”

“Not for the sake of it,” she said, her gaze fixed to my chest.

“I don’t understand. Do you want a family, the children, the chaos—all the responsibility? Is that what you see for yourself?”

“For myself and the man I love.” She looked at me from under her eyelashes. Was she saying she loved me?

“No, Grace.” I released her thighs and moved her off me and sat up. “I’m not a man you should love.” I pushed my hands through my hair. Didn’t she understand? That wasn’t what this was between us.

“What do you mean, you’re not a man I can love?” she asked from behind me. The bed moved as she shifted and I felt the warmth of her hands on my shoulders. I stood to avoid her touch.

I couldn’t do this. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking getting involved with a woman—allowing myself to care about someone, for someone to care about me. I’d known it could only end in disaster.

“Surely I get to choose who I love?” Her voice was harder than before, her tone more challenging.

I couldn’t look at her. Instead I pulled out my overnight bag and began to pack. I needed to leave. Get back to my apartment—be on my own. “I’m just saying you can’t chose me. And if you do . . .”

“What? You’re going to leave me? Because I love you?”

The hints were gone. She’d said it. “Don’t say that. You can’t love me. And I can never love you.”

Something hit me on the head—a shoe maybe. “You’re an *, Sam Shaw.” Her voice cracked on my last name. “You’ve spent the last few months being the best man I’ve ever known after my father.” It took all my strength not to look at her as she began to sob. I wanted to make her feel better, to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but it wasn’t. I stayed silent.

“What am I supposed to do? Just ignore how wonderful you are—how special you make me feel? I love you. And if you don’t love me then we’ll go our separate ways, but you can’t tell me not to love you.”

The more she used that word—love—the weaker I became. I hated that I liked hearing it so much. She slammed the bathroom door and I could hear her sobbing on the other side. Our separate ways. Her words woke something in me. I wasn’t sure I could give her up.

I dropped the jeans I was holding and sank onto the chair at the end of the bed, clutching my head. As much as I didn’t want it to be true, the fact that Grace loved me hadn’t caused my world to come tumbling down—not yet. But it would eventually, right?

Her sobs echoed around the bathroom. I hated hearing her crying. More, I hated I had caused her tears.

Shit. What was I going to do? I owed her the truth. I had to tell her how I felt.

I stood and headed to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door. “Grace,” I called, “I’m sorry.” Should I open the door? We’d never argued before, not like this. “Can I come in?” She didn’t answer, which wasn’t a no. I turned the knob, sagging in relief that she hadn’t locked me out. Not physically, anyway, though that might have been better for both of us.