The Ending I Want(79)

There’s a pause before he answers.

Please let it go. Let’s get back to jokey and light before I screwed it up.

I almost exhale in relief when he says, “I haven’t f*cked a woman up the arse before. Well, when I say that, I mean, I haven’t bum-f*cked a woman like you before.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s different about me, compared to those other women you bum-f*cked?”

“Well, I didn’t have to pay you.” He grins. “Kidding.”

He holds his hands up when I go to punch him.

“I’ve never paid for sex—normal or bum fun—I promise.”

“Okay.” I lower my hand back down to the bed. “So, what’s different here with me?” I press.

Why I’m pressing, I don’t know.

Well, I do.

It’s because I want to hear him tell me why I’m different. Even though I know no good can come of it. But my foolish heart is insisting on hearing him say whatever those words are.

“Aside from the fact that you’re American?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He laughs. “I just like messing with you.”

He slides an arm under my waist, tugging me closer. “Well, for starters, your arse was virgin, so that officially makes it mine. You never forget your first.” He tilts his head forward, pressing his forehead to mine. He shuts his eyes and exhales. “You’re mine, Boston, in every way that matters,” he whispers. “You’re different and perfect, and you’re mine.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips.

Then, he just gets out of bed. Totally unaware that he’s just punched his fist into my chest, pulled out what was left of my heart, and carried it off with him.

“I’m gonna take a shower, clean up properly, so I’m ready for round two. You wanna join me?”

I force myself to come around, so I can respond to his words.

I sit up, the duvet pooling around my waist. “Round two? We’re not doing ass sex again for at least a few days. I’m a little sore, remember?”

Liam stops by the door. Hand on the frame, he looks back at me. “Of course I remember. I wasn’t talking about ass sex when I said round two. No, I was talking about your tits. They’re my next mountain to climb. I’m going to f*ck the hell out of those beauties and then come all over them, so they look like snow-capped mountains.” He grins, and then he slips into the bathroom before I get a chance to respond.

But if I’d had a chance to respond, all that would have come is laughter.

Because that’s what Liam does.

He sets my heart on fire, and he makes me laugh.

And I’m pretty sure that I’m falling in love with him.

I am falling in love with him.





I’m falling in love with Liam. Or I’m already in love with him.

Either way, I love him, and that realization sends me into a tailspin.

I spent the rest of yesterday outwardly smiling and laughing while spending time with Liam and Bernie. But, on the inside, I was shredding myself to pieces.

But then, later, while I was lying next to Liam in bed, wide awake and unable to sleep, I watched him in slumber. He’s so beautiful when he sleeps, but that is so not the point.

It was then, watching him, that I came to the realization that it didn’t matter.

I’m in love with Liam. I can’t change that. I don’t think I would want to even if I had a choice.

But loving him doesn’t change anything.

I might love Liam.

But I love my family more.

I owe them more.

My feelings for Liam are mine. He’s not aware of them, and he never will be. Liam isn’t even on the same page as me in that respect.

He cares about me. I know that.

And to have him care for me…is wonderful.

But feelings like that fade fast.

Love doesn’t.

And I’m lucky that I get to love this amazing man in this time I have left, and I get to take those feelings with me when I go.

I got to fall in love before I die.

Falling in love wasn’t something I thought I would ever get to experience, even if one-sided, but I have, and it’s amazing.

To look at Liam and feel like my heart will burst from the feelings I have for him…is incredible. To have the privilege to love someone like Liam…it’s a true gift.

I know it’s a gift I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t allow myself to feel this way for him. I don’t deserve it.

But it’s not like he loves me back.

These are my feelings alone, and they’re mine to keep, mine to covet.

If that makes me selfish, then selfish is what I am because I won’t give up these feelings for anything.

I’m giving my life. I just have to hope that it’s enough.

We’re at the Silverstone Circuit, attending the Grand Prix, currently seated in the hospitality area of a team called Rybell. Bernie provides sponsorship for them, has done so for years apparently. And, because Bernie is a sponsor, we get to sit in hospitality and meet with the team’s drivers. The reigning champion of the Grand Prix is one of Rybell’s drivers—Carrick Ryan. I might not follow Formula One, but I know who Carrick Ryan is. Everyone knows who Carrick Ryan is.