: Chapter 45

She stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head, the confusion on her face ranging from her uncertain eyes to her parted lips.

“What?” she says, finally able to form words. “I don’t understand.”

She came to see me as soon as she got home from her trip, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Chad’s visit last night. I hate that he’s undermined us like this, but I also can’t ignore the fact that he might have a point. I’ve felt like crap recently, like I haven’t been able to give Amelia what she needs—fuck, I don’t even know what she needs.

“Look, mi rosa, I don’t want to hurt you, but I think we need to take some time. Really think things through.”

Her lower lips wobbles, and tears fill her eyes. “You don’t get to call me mi rosa and say you don’t want to hurt me while you break up with me, Drake.”

“I’m not breaking up with you, Amelia, I’m just … Fuck! Can we be honest with each other?”

“I suppose we should be,” she replies, a touch of snark in her voice that is spoiled by the impending tears. “If you think you’re up for that.”

I suck in a deep breath and try to ignore how fucking edible she looks perched on the edge of my bed like that, her skin glowing from her spa and her hair flipped in a dark cloud over her shoulders. She’s wearing a little pink T-shirt that shows the jut of her nipples, and under normal circumstances, it would be driving me wild. In fact, it still is, dammit.

I sit in a chair a few feet away, facing her. If I get too close, if my body touches hers, I won’t be able to do this—and I need to do this. For her sake. I need to give her time to figure out if I’m right for her. If she can live with my imperfections and my fucked-up way of seeing the world. I need to let her see me outside the whirlwind of what has been an incredibly intense and fast-moving relationship. Maybe I won’t look quite so good from a distance.

“Amelia, I love you. I really do. But we have to face facts—we don’t know each other that well. This thing between us has happened hard and fast, and maybe we both need to just slow it down and make sure we’re where we want to be.” I know where my cock wants to be, I think, seeing the slight tremor of emotion run through her body, making her chest heave. Fuck. It’s a regular old nipple party over there. I stare at my hands instead.

“Where is this coming from, Drake?” She’s unable to hide the hurt in her voice. She’s suffering, and I want to comfort her. But I can’t because I’m the one causing it. “Is it because … Because I’ve been such a pain in the ass recently? I know I’ve been a misery to be around, with all the crying and the complaining⁠—”

I snap my head up. “Stop right there. No, it isn’t because of any of that. You haven’t been a misery at all. You just lost your mom. I’m not such a heartless bastard that I expect you to get over that in a few weeks. This isn’t anything you’ve done wrong.”

“Really? Because it sure feels like I’m being punished for something, Drake. Why … Why are you making this decision alone? Is it nothing at all to do with me? Am I that unimportant to you?”

I bury my face in my hands, wanting to scream. “Amelia, I wish I could find a better way to express myself. I feel so fucking tongue-tied. Do you trust me?”

“I did,” she murmurs, the words barely there. “Until I walked through the door today and you said we needed to talk.”

“I need you to carry on trusting me. I need you to believe that I want what’s best for you.”

She bites her lip and finally lets the tears she’s been fighting spill over her cheeks. I have seen a lot of tears recently, but this time I’m the cause of them, and I feel like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet.

“What’s best for me?” she echoes. “And you get to decide that, do you? I don’t get a say in the matter?”

I force myself to stay tough. To fight the urge to rush over there and take her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay. Because what if Chad is right? What if I’m holding her back? What if she could have an entirely different, better future without me? There’s a reason I’ve been single for so long. A reason I’m married to my work. A reason I pay women to spend time with me to avoid complications. The reason is that I’m fucked up, and I don’t want her to suffer for it.

“No, you don’t,” I say decisively, hating the pain shining in her eyes but hating myself more. “Because I need to know that we’re right for each other before we take this any further. I told you a little about Tiff, right?”

She nods, and a spark of interest flares in her eyes.

“Well, when my mom died, Tiff wasn’t there for me. She couldn’t handle the complexity, the grief. She couldn’t find a way to make me feel better, or maybe she didn’t even want to, I don’t know. The point is, we weren’t right for each other. And since your mom died, I’ve felt like maybe I’m not right for you. I haven’t been able to take care of you or comfort you or be part of your emotional life in the way I want to. I’m not sure I’m even capable of it.”

“Why do you think that?” she asks, her voice rising in desperation. “Why would you think you’re not enough for me? Have I made you feel like that? I hope not, because you are enough, Drake—more than enough. I love you, and I know we haven’t talked what happens long-term, but for me this is it. This is forever. I get that you’re not perfect, but who is? I’m certainly not, and I don’t expect you to be. Please don’t do this. Please don’t throw this away. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“And maybe that’s one of the problems. When we first met, you had to pretend to be Scarlet before you could even sleep with me, and you’ve said numerous times that you’re different when we’re together. That sometimes you don’t recognize yourself. I don’t want you to have to be someone else. Maybe I’m too broken for all of this, Amelia. Maybe I’m too broken for marriage and kids and a house in the suburbs.”

She frowns at me, confused, and swipes the tears from her face as she speaks. “Yes, I am different when I’m with you, but in a good way. I like the person I am when I’m with you. I’m brave and bold with you. As for the rest—kids, marriage … Have I ever pressured you about those things? Have I even brought them up?”

“No,” I say, my heart twisting in my chest. “You haven’t. But I know you want them. You deserve them. What I don’t know is if I’m the man who can give you that life. I don’t want you to waste your time on me when I might not ever be what you need.”

She jumps to her feet, indignant, her temper mixing with her sadness. Her legs are shaking, and she leans back against the bed to steady herself. She looks like she could faint at any moment. Her hazel eyes burn holes in my face, and I have never hated myself so much in my whole life.

“Is that what we’ve been doing, Drake? Wasting each other’s time? And here’s me, thinking we were loving each other. Thinking we had something special. What a goddamn fool I am.” She grabs a paper bag from the floor, one she brought back with her from her trip upstate with Emily. She throws it at me, and I catch it.

“There. That’s for you. Shove it up your ass for all I care. I’ll leave now. I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time.”

The door slams shut behind her, and I peer inside the bag. Fucking hell. The black stuffed bear is wearing a T-shirt that says #1 Boyfriend Bear. It’s exactly like the one she gave her mom all those years ago, and it obliterates what’s left of my heart.

What the hell have I done?