Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(62)

I loved her. I’d never loved anyone the way I loved her. Shouldn’t that count for something?

I felt like it should, but I also felt like she was right—I didn’t deserve another chance.

Backing away from the door, I glanced at the ring on the dresser. She’d told me to take it with me when I left.

I walked over to it and picked it up, recalling the cringe-worthy proposal and the clumsy way I’d struggled to get the ring on her finger.

Fuck. What had I been thinking? She deserved so much better.

A better proposal. A better love story. A better man.

I replaced the ring on the dresser and left the room. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to take it. Maybe she wouldn’t wear it on her finger, but I wasn’t sorry I’d given it to her. And maybe if I left it here, she’d know that I’d meant what I said.

She’d always been the only one for me.





When I went downstairs, I avoided the family room where the card games were going on and instead went into the library. Shutting the door behind me, I turned off the light and lay down on the leather couch in front of the fireplace. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but at least this was a quiet place to think.

With one hand behind my head, I stretched out on my back and let the memories of my friendship with her unspool. I saw us as kids jumping off that roof. I saw us as teenagers at the prom. I saw her sitting on my dorm room bed asking me to have sex with her, telling me she wanted me to take her virginity but not call her afterward—even then, she didn’t trust me with her heart.

She’d been right.

I saw her devastated expression the following Christmas, when I’d lied to her, saying that I’d only done it because I’d pitied her. I’d wanted to hurt her because she didn’t want me the way I wanted her, and I was too young and stupid to see that I should have been honest with her instead of playing games.

I saw her laughing and rosy-cheeked as we got tipsy on scotch between two twin beds at Hughie’s graduation party. I saw her standing above me, a leg over my shoulder, as I buried my tongue inside her. I saw her back as she angrily stomped away from me down the hall after realizing I’d timed her orgasm.

That memory actually brought a smile.

I saw her standing at the bar in a gorgeous gown at a hospital fundraiser, I saw her hesitate before getting onto that elevator with me, I saw her naked and sweaty and shameless against a hotel room door.

I remembered a cab ride to the airport after we said goodbye in Chicago, hating myself for being too immature and unworthy of her.

I saw her give me the finger at a Cloverleigh Christmas party. I felt the sting of her palm across my cheek. I heard the hurt and anger in her voice as she accused me of betraying her with Brown Eyed Girl.

I saw the wary suspicion in her eyes as I persuaded her to give me one week to convince her to partner with me. I heard her say, Some things don’t change. Some people don’t change.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was the same selfish asshole I’d been all those years. I’d fucked up so many times. How many chances did one man deserve?

And what could I say to get her to give me another?

I wasn’t sure how long I lay there in the dark, but eventually I heard everyone else go up to bed, and a while later, I heard the rain begin. It drummed against the library windowpanes, the wind pressing against the glass. When lightning flashed and thunder began to rumble in the distance, I thought of Chloe alone upstairs and wondered if she was nervous. I knew she didn’t like storms or the dark. Imagining her up there alone and scared made my chest tight.

Leave her be. She doesn’t want you.

But eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I got up from the couch and hurried quietly from the library, up the stairs, and down the hall. When I reached my old bedroom door, I hesitated for just a second, but then opened it.

I saw right away that she’d left the bathroom light on and the door ajar, and it wrenched my heart. Lightning illuminated the room for a moment, and I saw that she was asleep, lying on her side with her left hand on the pillow next to her face.

There was something shiny on her finger.

Had it been a trick of the light, or was she wearing the ring? Hoping she wouldn’t wake up and catch me lurking over her in bed like a stalker, I moved closer, my stomach muscles tight.

Sure enough, my grandmother’s engagement ring was back on her finger. She must have put it on after I left the room. My heartbeat quickened. Did that mean she didn’t hate me? That she still cared? That she might be willing to listen to me?

But what the hell would I say?

If I trusted myself to find the right words, I might have crawled into bed with her. Put my arms around her. Stopped her protests with a kiss.

But I didn’t.

In the end, I backed out of the room and shut the door behind me, retreating downstairs again to face my night of purgatory on the couch.





I must have fallen asleep at some point because it was light when my dad woke me, sunlight streaming through the windows. “Something wrong with your bed?” he asked.

Opening my eyes, I saw him standing over me dressed in his golf clothes, glass of orange juice in his hand. I groaned as I sat up, my back stiff and my neck sore. “Uh, I gave it to Chloe. She felt funny staying in the same room.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation. “We’re heading out in about half an hour for golf. Are you joining us?”