Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(61)

I didn’t want to. I had a tender spot for him and he knew it. “Leave me alone, Oliver.”

“Give me another chance.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. They appeared to reflect contrition and remorse, but I no longer trusted my assessment of his feelings. He was too good at the game. “You don’t deserve another chance.”

He sighed heavily. Nodded once.

In a moment, I was going to break down, but for now I steeled myself. “I’m going to the bathroom to change. When I come back, I want you gone. And take that ring with you—put it somewhere safe so you can give it back to your grandmother after I leave.”

He said nothing as I walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Once I was alone, I gripped the sink and let the tears flow as silently as I could. I didn’t want him to hear me crying. I didn’t want him to know how badly he’d hurt me. I didn’t want him to know how much I’d miss his arms around me for the rest of my life or how devastated I was that all the plans we’d made would never see the light of day.

God, how could I have been so stupid?

Angrily, I grabbed a tissue from the box on the back of the toilet and blew my nose. Hadn’t I known before all this started that he could not be trusted? His entire life, when had he ever demonstrated that he cared about anyone other than himself? He’d never once stuck around long enough to develop real feelings for anyone, least of all me. He was a cad and a player and a con man who got through life on his lies and his charm, and he was never going to change. I’d known it all along.

So this was on me, I thought, as I looked at my mascara-streaked face in the mirror with its red nose and bloodshot eyes. Once again, I’d shown what shitty judgment I had. I’d jumped into something without considering the big picture. I’d let myself be swept away by pretty words and dreams because it felt good. It was like teenage me all over again. Had I learned nothing?

I wasn’t fit to be CEO of Cloverleigh or my own business. I was a terrible judge of character and had no idea how to control my impulses. No matter how much therapy I had or how much growing up I did or how strongly I felt things in my gut, I could not be trusted to do the right thing.

The realization hit me hard and brought on fresh tears that wrenched sobs from my chest. I sat down on the edge of the tub and cried hard for myself, for my crushed dreams, for my broken heart.





I couldn’t sleep.

I lay there alone in Oliver’s old bed in the dark for hours. Awake. Empty. Aching.

I missed him. I missed the excited feeling I’d woken up with this morning. I mourned the dreams we’d shared.

What if I never got over him? What if I never met anyone else who pushed my buttons the way he did? What if no one else ever got to me the way he did? Was I destined to live alone, cursing him and his stupidity for the rest of my life? Was he?

Relationships were fucking hard, and I’d never been able to make it work with someone, never known that feeling of contentment and security. I’d never let myself be as vulnerable as I’d been over the last few days—and I never would again. It hurt too much to know it had been a mistake.

God, Oliver. We came so close.

The old house was creaky in the wind, and more than once I heard strange noises that made my eyes pop wide open and my heart beat faster. I’d never liked being alone in the dark.

When I heard rain begin to drum against the windowpane, I got up and turned the bathroom light on, leaving the door partway open just to give me a little bit of light. On my way back to bed, I caught sight of something shiny on the dresser.

The ring.

I hadn’t noticed it before, when I’d fallen into bed exhausted and cried out. Why hadn’t he taken it with him when he’d left, like I’d asked?

I walked over to the dresser, the old wood floor creaking under my bare feet. Picking up the ring, I stared at it for a moment before slipping it onto my finger again. Then I examined it on my hand, fingers outstretched.

Oliver, I thought, my broken heart sinking deeper. You bastard.

I would have said yes.

That’s what killed me. I knew myself. And I knew how I felt about him. If I was honest, I had to admit that if there had been no games, no scheme to get the money, no betrayal of my trust, and Oliver had said to me last night, maybe as he held me in his arms or moved inside me or kissed me goodnight, I’ve always loved you, spend the rest of your life with me … I would have said yes. It would have been crazy and fast and impulsive, but it was the truth.

I climbed back in bed and wept into my pillow.

I would have said yes.





22





Oliver





NOW



I heard her crying in the bathroom, and it damn near broke me.

The moment she shut the door, I heard the gut-wrenching gasps, and I immediately rushed in her direction.

But I stopped with my hand on the knob.

She doesn’t want you. You’ll only make things worse.

My hand fell, and I backed away.

What was I going to say to her that I hadn’t already said? How was I going to make this better? Which words were the ones to make her see that I hadn’t lied to her, that I wanted to be with her, that I’d made a mistake, yes—but I was human and still figuring shit out.