When You're Ready (Ready #1)(31)

“Well, at least she has good taste...but if she gets handsy, I may have to bitch slap her.”

“Defending my honor, huh? That’s kinda hot. Well, minus the Granny part,” I added.

She gave me one last amused look before we began our meal. Ms. Thompson might be one of the best cooks I’d ever encountered. She had taken southern cooking to a whole new level, creating modern dishes with a down home feel. No wonder her Bed and Breakfast is one of the best in the country.

I heard Clare moan as she took her first bite of the pork loin smothered in a cranberry and peach chutney.

“Oh my God, we’re taking this woman back with us. Go find a bat. I’ll get the duct tape,” Clare declared, taking another bite.

I laughed. It really was good.

We dined on pork loin and ratatouille, roasted sweet potatoes and asparagus, and baskets of bread. It was divine.

Around our second glass of wine, the rain started. One thing I loved about Virginia was the rain. It could be sunny one minute, and pouring the next.

Right now the rain was coming down in sheets, beating against the roof and rattling the windows. The sun had long since passed and the deafening sound combined with the darkness outside made it feel like we are the only two people in the world.

“Tell me about your wife,” Clare requested, completely catching me off guard.

“Of all the things we can discuss on our first date, you want to talk about my ex-wife?”

“She was a part of your life and a part of you. I want to know everything about you.” She paused and gently reached her hand across the table for mine. Our fingers touched and became entwined together.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

“No, Clare. It’s not that. It’s painful, yes. But not in the way you’re thinking. I’m worried that after I tell you about her, you’ll look at me differently.”

Like the cold-hearted bastard I am.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. No bullshit, remember?” she reminded me, giving me an encouraging smile.

“What do you want to know?” I sighed, not wanting to have this conversation but knowing she needed to know me, even the ugly sides of me, if we were going to continue.

“Everything. Anything? Whatever you want to tell me.”

I want to tell her nothing, because I’m a coward, but I knew I couldn’t do that. So I decided to start at the beginning.

“I met Melanie when I was in med school. She was attending Harvard for her undergraduate work in economics and psychology. She was beautiful and cultured. She came from a wealthy family, but she wasn’t the least bit pretentious, and she had all these lofty notions that she was going to change the world. She wanted to visit third-world countries and would spend hours telling me about her dreams and aspirations. For a young man who had been told what to do for his entire life, she was fascinating. I asked her to marry me as soon as she graduated.”

I paused, not wanting to continue, afraid she would hate me for what I was about to say.

“My life was crazy during med school but it became insane during my residency. Being newly married and a newly practicing doctor was like mixing oil and vinegar. I was never home, and I quickly realized I didn’t want to be. When I was home for long periods of time I just mentally checked out. And she knew it. I didn’t love her, and I never had. I confused fascination for love, not knowing the difference. I think I was so enthralled by the idea of being loved that I took something I shouldn’t have, without thought for the consequences. Melanie had loved me from day one, and I couldn't give her a damn thing in return. What’s worse is I kept her, hoping I’d someday start to feel something, anything. But all I ever felt was guilt.”

Unable to look at Clare, I stared out the window while I made my confession. I watched the rain slam against the window, unable to look her in the eyes because I was so afraid her face would be filled with disgust. Would she leave now that she knew I was incapable of loving someone? I finally looked at her and found her looking at me with something entirely unexpected.

Compassion.

“Is it so horrible to want to be loved, Logan?” she asked.

“No. But chaining someone into a marriage just to have it? That’s unforgivable,” I insisted.

“When you married Melanie and said your vows, did you believe you were in love with her?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Logan. Wanting to be loved so desperately is not a crime,” she assured me, holding my hand firmly in hers. Her hand felt so soft and delicate in my own.

“Is that why she cheated?”

I nodded, adding “I don’t blame her. I kept her in a loveless marriage, and I was never there.”

“Did you know him?” she inquired.

Clearly, she still hadn’t looked me up because this particular part was a media favorite.

“Yes. He was one of my best friends, Gabe. He’d been at Harvard the same time as Melanie and me, studying law. He moved to New York to pursue his dream of working in the projects. We always used to give him shit for going to Harvard on his Daddy’s dime to earn a law degree he planned on using for pro bono work. But, he was exactly like Melanie. He wanted to change the world. She volunteered to help in his office doing light administrative work a few hours a week. I hardly paid attention when she told me,” I admitted.