The Worst Best Man(107)

“Wrong fucking answer, Kilbourn!”

“It’s the truth!” Aiden roared.

“I know it’s the truth! That’s the problem! I can’t deal with this, Aiden. I don’t want to spend my life being outmaneuvered or lied to or constantly threatened or used because of your last name. I want a partnership. That’s not what we have.”

She made a move toward her duffle bag, and he stopped her, grabbing her arm.

“We can have it. I swear to you, Franchesca.”

“You said you’d give me everything I wanted,” she said, looking at him accusingly.

“Anything and everything.”

“But you couldn’t even be honest with me. Tell me, when Elliot came to you with what he knew, did it even occur to you to come clean? To tell me? To take your lumps and hope for the best?”

Had he considered it? Or had he just decided to handle it?

“Everything is a power play to you,” she said quietly. “And I’m done being played.”

She tried to free herself from his grip, but he just held on tighter.

“You’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting me, Franchesca. Let’s talk about this. Let me fix this!” If she walked out that door, he knew she’d never be back. It was like holding back the tide, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

“I’m not lying when I say I love you. I really felt it and knew what it was at my mother’s house. I looked at you in the audience, and you’re all I saw. You’re all I want to see every day for the rest of my life. Please don’t let this break us, Franchesca.”

“You’ve known you loved me for how many weeks now, and you didn’t think to tell me? Like an ace up your sleeve? Your get out of jail free card? Do you see how fucked up that is? Do you think that’s what I deserve?”

“No, of course not. I’ve never been in love before, Franchesca. So excuse me if I don’t know how to process it. It took a battle just to get you to date me. I didn’t know what it would be like to say those words to you and hear nothing but silence in return. I wasn’t ready.”

“Who said there would have been silence, you idiot?” Temper and tears glistened in her eyes. “Who said you were the only one who felt those feelings?”

He gripped her arms. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I loved you, too. You ass!”

Loved? How could it be past tense just like that?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re Aiden Kilbourn, permanent bachelor and womanizer. You’re married to your work. And I didn’t know how to say it. I wasn’t saving it up to tip the scales at the right moment. I just didn’t know how to tell you without breaking my own heart.”

“Franchesca, we can make this work. We love each other.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It has to be.”

She shook her head and pulled free from his grip and held up her hands when he stepped forward. “Look at me. Understand me. I don’t want to be here and I don’t want you to come with me.”

“Why can’t we talk this out? Why can’t you let me fix this?”

“Because a team fixes things together, Aiden. And we’re not a team, and we’re not together.”

He took a step back as if she’d landed a physical blow. This couldn’t be the end of it. But she was picking up her bag and moving to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t come see me. Don’t call me.”

God she meant it. He’d never seen her so serious, so hurt. And he’d done that.

“And one more thing. Elliot’s trying to ruin you, Aiden. Be careful there.”

She left, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. And all the light went out of his world.





Chapter Fifty-Seven


Back in her apartment, in the bed they had shared, she finally let the tears come. Hot and salty, they scorched paths down her cheeks and soaked the pillow beneath her. His pillow. She’d known, hadn’t she, that this was how it would end? She’d taken precautions, but in the end, nothing could have guarded her heart from Aiden.

He’d looked so brokenly at her as she left. She felt his pain echo inside her. They were both to blame. She for falling for him and him for disappointing her. He would always be looking for a way to win. It was in his blood.

Frankie rolled over, clutching the pillow to her chest and cried until she slept.

The dull gray winter morning did little to coax her out of bed. She’d seen Pru in the depths of despair over Chip and had promised herself she’d never let a man wreck her like that. And here she was aching on the inside, eyes puffy from so many tears shed.

She couldn’t today. She couldn’t go out into the world, not with news of Aiden and Margeaux smugly splattered on every blog and news site in the city. Not with the truth of her loneliness.

She texted Brenda and sent her apologies saying she wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come in today.

Great. Not even the threat of loss of income could tempt her out of bed. She was officially a broken woman. She didn’t even want food. She just wanted to be left alone.

As if the universe heard that thought, there was a loud pounding on her door. Frankie’s heart raced at the thought that it might be Aiden who magically found the right words to stop her hurt. She pulled a pillow over her head and pretended the world didn’t exist.