Do You Take This Man (83)
Blood drained from my face as the bride’s twisted expression suddenly made a lot more sense. “I didn’t know that,” I said, uncrossing my arms and stepping closer, shoulders back and on the defensive. “I didn’t read your texts or emails. I didn’t want to hear your excuses or pity. Why didn’t you bring it up in person this morning?”
His eyes were hard when they met mine. “Because you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to talk to me, and I thought a grown professional would read their damn emails.”
“Don’t take that condescending tone with me.”
“You don’t get to police my tone. Do you even feel bad about this? You’re so set on putting me in my place. Can you step outside your ice palace long enough to even accept an iota of culpability?”
“My ice palace?” We were almost toe-to-toe, the sounds of the crowd around the corner. “I didn’t say I wasn’t at fault. I should have checked the messages. I didn’t want to deal with your apologies, so I didn’t look.”
“You think I was going to apologize for not playing your endless game of hot and cold on the worst day of the year for me? You make it so hard to—” He held up his palms, stepping back and leaving the sentence unfinished.
“I make it hard to what?”
Lear let out a slow breath and his expression was tight, features dark and severe in a way I’d never seen before. “Forget it, RJ.”
“No, say it.” I stepped closer and into his space, daring him to confirm what I already knew.
“I said what I needed to say about the ceremony.” He took another step back. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“That’s never stopped you from saying something before.” I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing they could cover all of me. I felt naked, as if the only way to stop his words from sinking in was to stay on the offensive, even though I heard the words coming out of my mouth and tasted how wrong they were.
When he stepped forward again, the movement took me off guard, his body centimeters from mine, our faces so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. “Fine. You’re so afraid someone else is going to leave you that you push everyone away.” His features were sharp, more defined than usual, and his jaw was set as he stared at my face. “I didn’t come up to your place because I couldn’t trust you’d want me the next day. It’s like you need me to be small so you wouldn’t miss me if I left, and maybe you wouldn’t, but I can’t subject myself to those games.”
“I was clear about what this was.” I pressed my finger to his chest. In the small space, our voices were hushed but felt loud and permanent. “You caught feelings after I told you not to.” And gave them to me. “The endless game of hot and cold? That was me reminding you what we agreed to and you pushing for more.”
“You’re going to stand here and tell me you didn’t feel things?” Lear motioned between us. “That I imagined what it was like when we were together?”
“Believe me, I regret entertaining those feelings.” My heart beat heavy and fast as if this were fight or flight, and I wanted to flee, but I couldn’t back down. “Feelings lead to pain and betrayal. You might remember that better than anyone.” I bit my tongue hard after I said it, seeing how the hit landed like a slap and his eyes widened. I regretted it immediately.
“I guess I should.” He gave a small shake of his head. “Is this when you drag me into a back room to fuck while you tell me how little you care about me? Give me a few minutes. I can’t turn off my heart as fast as you.”
I held his gaze, commanding my face not to give away any sign of how much his words had cut me.
“I thought there was something special about you, but you make it impossible to—”
“Care for me?” Love me. Like me. Take a chance on me. Familiar heat and anger and embarrassment prickled over my skin. I held his cold stare, heat behind my eyes at his silent response. He didn’t say anything. I’d asked him to love me, indirectly, in my own way, but I had asked, and now his mouth was set in a straight line. “Don’t worry. I will never ask you to again. In fact, I’ll ask you to forget you ever knew me.”
I walked fast to get out of there before the tears broke through my armor. Between the wedding ceremony and the mounting shame and regret I felt over opening up my heart to Lear, I needed out. I needed to be away from the maybes this wedding stuff had made me consider. I was almost to the exit when I caught the eye of Dina Mayfield standing near a tall man, their hands brushing casually, fingers grazing in a flash, but in the intentional contact only ever found between lovers. I doubt anyone else would have noticed it, but it was one of those clear milliseconds, and the man was not Andrew Mayfield. It was the chairman of the board for the Avente Foundation.
And in that moment, with everything Lear and I had just said to each other, the possibility of something romantic to believe in had never felt like a bigger illusion.
Chapter 44
Lear
MY PHONE BUZZED on the nightstand like an incessant fly in my ear. I finally rolled over to silence it. My mouth tasted like I’d slept with an old gym sock in it, and my head rejected the movement. The bottle of Jack I’d finished the night before clattered to the floor, and I groped for my phone without moving my head from under the shade of the blanket. I had a brief recollection of stumbling to the bathroom, which was probably the only reason my bladder wasn’t joining the party of body parts cursing me. I’m drinking too much. I knew it was true, and I made a promise to myself to get my head back in order.