Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3)(84)

“I didn’t dump you. We took a break, so you could think about something important.”

He blinked. “So … we weren’t … we’re still together,” he said more to himself than a question. All the color drained from his face, and he backed away from me, sitting down hard in a wicker chair.

“I wasn’t clear. Either way, it wasn’t fair. It was stupid and cruel, and … I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You don’t apologize. You definitely shouldn’t apologize for this.”

I sat next to him. “What I did was shitty, no matter my line of thinking or my intentions. I’m just lucky you love me and that you’re more patient than you let on.”

He stared at the floor and then smiled up at me. “Let’s just pretend last week never happened. Fade out last Friday. Fade in the moment I saw you in the lobby.” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “I thought about it like you asked, and I don’t feel any differently than the night I left.”

“You’re sure?”

He exhaled like the wind had been knocked out of him. “More now than ever.”

“Maybe it was a good thing then? The break?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, pushing the table between us back and pulling my chair closer to him. “But there’s not a doubt in my mind about how much you mean to me. You’re the last woman I ever want to touch.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to shake the guilt. “I just meant I should have listened to you. You were right about me trying to force it, and even though I didn’t realize it, I was probably trying to push you away. I don’t want you to leave me even if that makes me selfish.”

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his, and I sighed as he wrapped his arms around me.

“It doesn’t make you selfish, Falyn. I’m the selfish one. Jesus, I’m sorry, too. I just want to forget about it, okay? Can we do that? It’s just you and me. Nothing else matters.”

As he held me in his arms, the world was right again. I was never so glad to be wrong.

He pulled away with a frown. “I have to get around. The guys are all in Shep’s room, getting ready.” He stood up, leading me back into the room by the hand.

I sat on the end of the bed, watching as he opened the closet and pulled out a plastic-covered tux. He held it up, shrugging. “America insisted we go traditional.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in that.”

“Fresh towels are in the bathroom if you want to take a shower before the ceremony. I’ve already had one, and I feel like I need another one.”

“Maybe you should take one with me?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

He dropped the tux and rushed to kneel next to me. “We’re okay, right?”

I nodded.

He planted a kiss on my lips. When he pulled away, disappointment flashed in his eyes. “I wish I could. The ceremony is in the gazebo on the beach. Just around the corner and down the stairs.”

“See you in ninety minutes,” I said, waving to him as he walked backward through the door.

When the door closed, I slipped off my sandals and padded across the tiles to the cold marble floor of the bathroom. The quiet allowed me enough time to think about my awkward reunion with Taylor, and a lump formed in my throat. Colorado Springs was a thousand miles away, and I couldn’t seem to hide from the guilt. Instead of seeing it in my reflection in the mirror, it had been in Taylor’s eyes.

As glad as I was to see him and to know that he wanted me despite the knowledge that we would never have children, something still felt off. So many questions crowded my mind. Maybe I had hurt him beyond repair. Maybe what I had done to him changed him. Maybe it had changed us.

My shirt stuck to my damp skin as I lifted the bottom hem. The air was so thick that it still covered me, even after I peeled off my clothes.

I tried not to cry while in the shower, scolding myself for finding a way to be melancholy while in a marble bathroom under a shower with high water pressure instead of the antique plumbing in the loft. After a while, I reasoned that my face was wet anyway, and I was alone, so I might as well get it out of my system.

So, I cried. I cried for Olive, for my parents, for what I’d done to Taylor. I cried for not being content before, and I cried because I knew we couldn’t get that back. Being the first woman Taylor loved, I had no idea what it must have taken him to admit it to himself—or me. I had destroyed that trust, seemingly for no reason. I cried because I was angry. And then I cried for crying on a beautiful tropical island in a five-star resort.