“I meant every word I told you, Bryn,” he says, softly. Too softly.
“Stop. Please. I can’t.” I step back.
He clenches his jaw, as if I’ve just given him the hardest blow of all.
Rejection of his touch.
“There’s no other woman for me like you. I’ve always known you were the girl after my heart, Bryn Kelly. Even when you didn’t want to sleep with me. When you didn’t want to kiss me. Even when I knew I wasn’t good enough for you.” He looks at me then, gold eyes like lasers, branding me. “I meant every word I told you,” he hisses.
“I wish you hadn’t. It would be easier. I hate you…”
I drop my face to the floor.
“I hate you, Aaric.”
When he touches my chin between his thumb and index finger to force me to look at him, the touch singes a path straight to the tight little knot on the left side of my chest.
I try to breathe but I can’t.
“Don’t be tender,” I beg, my throat tight.
“I’m in hell here,” he says, eyes murdering me with love.
The confession makes my eyes prickle behind my eyelids. It takes me a second to sob out loud, then react and push back from him.
“Congratulations, Aaric,” I say softly. “Really,” I say, trying to gather my composure.
This isn’t fair to him.
This isn’t fair, period.
He grinds his jaw, visibly tortured, his eyes glazed as if he’s been sleepless, drinking, or simply…like he said. In hell.
“Maybe this was just … a little vacation from realities,” I say then.
“What?” he bites out.
“Our little entanglement. Just a vacation from our lives or destinies. I don’t know.” I shake my head, trying to make sense of all this. Unable to make sense of losing the only guy I’ve ever fallen for. “But we’re in business and we’re adults. We can at least act like it.” I take another step back, gathering my courage and my pride close to me. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get over you.”
“Come here.”
“What for…”
“I just need to—” He grabs me and then we’re forehead to forehead, my face in his big hands. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” he hisses, his gaze carving into me.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I agree fervently, nodding, my throat aching.
He stares at me.
My eyes keep watering.
“Don’t,” I plead.
“Don’t what?”
“You look like a guy who means to kiss me for the last time.”
I pull free and swallow, putting half of the room between us. We both try to compose ourselves.
Christos’s jaw is working nonstop.
“We’ll be okay. You’re doing the right thing,” I repeat.
He nods, his jaw still locked so tight, it’s a marvel he can speak.
“Bryn, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if disappointed in himself.
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t be sorry. I want you to forget me. We need to both move on, Aaric.”
He stares at me like I just shot us both, and I smile as if I didn’t, and nod in emphasis.
“Promise me you’ll forget me.”
“No, bit. I promise you I never will.”
I swallow.
“You have to. We have to. For your child.”
“I lost my mother. I lost my daughter. And it kills me to lose you twice,” he hisses angrily.
I walk over and cup his jaw, and then on impulse, I put my thumb on his lips and rise on tiptoe to kiss my thumb. Never removing it. Feeling his lips part beneath my thumb, his tongue come out to lick me.
I inhale back a sob and pull free, hearing his groan of despair and an angry, “sonofabitch” hiss as I walk away with my heart in pieces and my brain struggling to comprehend my new reality. The one where Aaric is with Miranda, and I need to figure out how to live with that. How to be okay with that. Without him.
Christos
6 weeks ago…
“Darling, are you ready?”
Miranda walks over, and I get to my feet and take my phone. Two things strike me then. That she’s setting her hand on my chest, setting her mark, which vexes me—and the look in Bryn’s eyes.
“We’re done here,” I say, watching Bryn closely as I pocket my phone.
“I’ll wait for you in the car.” She kisses my jaw, and I clench as she walks away, unable to resist noticing the way Bryn keeps her gaze fixed on me, a sheen of regret in her eyes.
I walk forward, resisting the urge to reach out.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her.
“Christos.”
“I said I’ll think about it,” I add from the door.
“Please do. I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time?” she yells after me.
I smile and pause, amused and vexed that I still react to her more than I ever have to anyone. I return to the door and look at her. Small, looking hardly a year older than when I left Texas, and in my gut I know I’m in fucking trouble. “I’ll make contact,” I say, “if I’m interested in hearing more.” I nod. “Nice to see you, Bryn.”
“Nice to see you, Christos.”
I walk out to the car, climb inside in silence.
I know for a fact if I let her back into my life, this could be problematic.
But I can’t shake off the urge to know what she’s planning.
We ride to a black-tie event in the back of the Rolls. Miranda’s cloud of perfume clogging my air pipes.