Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(2)

He reached under his shirt, took hold of her wrists, and pulled her hands away.

This time when she looked into his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t seen before—a dash of something she couldn’t quite read. “What’s wrong?”

He scratched the back of his head and then gestured with his chin toward the table she’d set for two, complete with candles and crystal glasses. “What’s this all about, Jenny?”

“I’ve missed you. I wanted to surprise you.” She tried to step closer, but he clasped his fingers around her forearms to keep her at bay. She looked at his hands. “You’re hurting me.”

He let go. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jenny, but under the circumstances I think it’s best if I just blurt it out.”

“Please do. You’re scaring me. I have no idea—”

“I’m engaged.”

“Engaged,” she said, slowly enough to let the word wrap around her brain. “Engaged to be married?”

He nodded.

Cocksucker.

She rubbed her temples, tried to think, but his words did not make any sense. “I don’t understand. How can that be true? When did you meet her?”

“The truth is I was engaged when I met you.”

Nervous laughter escaped her. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve been dating for nearly a year.”

“I hardly call what we’ve been doing dating.”

“What do you call it, then?”

“Fucking. We’ve been f*cking, Jenny. You’ve got an amazing body. You’re great in bed. You have the mouth of a porn star. How could I resist?”

That’s why he never talked about marriage or kids or past relationships. Two minutes after you met him, I told you he was an *. Maybe you should start listening to me.

A flash of electricity whizzed through her head. The searing pain nearly brought her to her knees. She turned from him and went to the kitchen in search of aspirin.

He followed close on her heels. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sorry. Look at him. He’s a cocky son of a bitch who’s been f*cking someone else the entire time you’ve known him.

She fumbled with the bottle of pills. “Why are you here?”

“I had a few hours to kill. I figured I might as well tell you face-to-face.”

She opened the bottle of aspirin, swallowed the pills, and then held on to the granite counter for support. “Is this why you could never give me your number? This is why you didn’t want to be seen in public?”

No shit, Sherlock.

He didn’t answer.

“Were there others besides me?”

Do bears shit in the woods?

“Of course not, baby. Only you.”

This was not happening. They were meant to be together. She turned around and fell into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “Please don’t do this to me.”

Unlatching her arms, he released a disgusted moan as he gently pushed her away from him. Then he carefully tucked his shirt back into his pants and smoothed back his hair. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I want to understand.” She took hold of his hand and rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “You said I was easy to talk to and that we had a special connection. What changed?”

“Nothing changed.”

“Then tell me why you didn’t pick me. Why am I not the one you’re marrying?”

“You really want to know?”

She kissed his hand. “I do. I really do.”

“Look at you,” he said. “You’re clinging to me as if I’m some sort of lifeline. What sort of woman sits at home, night after night, waiting for a man to stop by once a month?

“A desperate one,” he said before she could answer.

The counters are covered in fingerprints and germs. This place is a mess! The butcher block is covered with bacteria and fungi. The sink is disgusting. No wonder he doesn’t love you.

Letting go of his hand, she turned toward the sink. She grabbed a clean sponge, put it under water, and began to scrub. Everything was so dirty. There were smudges and germs everywhere.

“Here we go,” Brandon said. “Hurry! Grab the disinfectant.”

Usually she moved the sponge in small methodical circles, but at the moment, every movement was frantic.

He groaned. “I’m not going to finish what I was saying unless you stop cleaning.”

Seconds passed before she dropped the sponge in the sink and told him to go on. She wasn’t ready to turn around and face him, though. She couldn’t bear to look at him.

“How many times have you told me about the people who taunted and bullied you throughout your life?” he asked. “Every time we get together, you complain about how people at work treat you with little or no respect, but do you ever do anything about it? No. You have zero confidence. You’re like a scared little trapped mouse. You need to get a spine, Jenny Pickett. Stop bitching about your sorry life, for Christ’s sakes, and do something about it. For once in your life, stand up for yourself.”

The cocksucker has a point.

Her vision blurred. He was right. She needed to stick up for herself.

There’s a knife right there in front of you, lots of them. Shut the man up, for God’s sake.