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Bree closed the fridge. She struggled to be calm and mature about this. After all, what was the difference between her and her stalkerish ex if she couldn’t accept that it was over?
“If you’ve tired of me and you’re ready to move on…fine. And maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think that’s it. You act as if you don’t want intimacy or a real relationship, but I know that isn’t true. I see the truth in your eyes whenever we’re together. What I can’t figure out is what you’re so afraid of?”
He narrowed his gaze, as if she’d struck a nerve, but he didn’t respond.
“Talk to me, Wes. Whatever it is, just say it.” She stepped closer to him, stopping short of touching him. “Is there someone else?”
“Bree, there’s no one in the world I’d rather be with. But I’m not prepared to make the kind of promises you’re looking for.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Bree stood tall, her arms folded, despite wanting to dissolve into tears. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his rejection cut.
“I’m trying to be completely honest with you, Bree. I won’t be like my old man, making promises he couldn’t keep. I won’t do that to you. To us. I need to be sure.”
“Of what? That no one better will come along?” She glared at him. “And what am I supposed to do? Warm your bed, fingers crossed, hoping one day you’ll be ready? No thank you.”
“It’s not like that. Believe me.”
“I don’t. And I don’t believe this is just about your dad walking out on you. People get divorced. Parents leave. And yeah, we both got saddled with a shitty parent. But we don’t have to be them. I’m certainly not going to just lie down and die because I’m afraid I’ll be like mine.”
Wesley’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. She’d stunned him with a strike to the jugular.
Maybe it wasn’t fair for her to bring up his dad, but Wes had opened the door to it when he’d used his old man as an excuse.
Bree sighed, no longer able to take the silence between them.
“I think maybe you’re right. This was a mistake. I take full responsibility. You were very clear from the beginning. I should’ve taken your word for it instead of pushing you.”
“I’m not saying we can’t be friends.”
“Nor am I.” Bree held her head high. “But right now, let’s just focus on putting on a kick-ass tournament. Okay?”
Wes’s eyes reflected every bit of the pain it caused her to utter those words. He didn’t move or speak.
“So that’s it?” Wes cleared his throat, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“I think it has to be. But we’ll always have London, right?” She forced a smile, not allowing the tears that stung her eyes to fall.
“Always.” He cradled her face and kissed her goodbye.
She waited for the click of the door closing behind Wes before she crumbled onto the sofa, tears streaming down her face.
She’d gambled and lost.
Maybe she’d played her hand too soon. Or perhaps the real mistake had been that she’d dared to play the game at all.
* * *
Wes straightened his collar and closed his eyes briefly as he exhaled a long, slow breath. It was exactly two weeks before his best friend’s wedding and nearly three weeks since he and Bree had ended their affair.
He’d been in Las Vegas for two days with Liam and around twenty of their friends. But it hadn’t been enough to lift the testy mood he’d been in since last he’d seen Bree. She’d returned to California the day after they’d ended things, and she’d attended the last two meetings about the volleyball tournament via video conference.
Yet, she’d kept her promise. She’d kept things civil and pleasant between them. As if nothing at all had happened. He’d called her directly a week prior to get her opinion on a change to the celebrity-chef lineup. Brianna answered the phone and had been as syrupy sweet as the sweet tea his mother made. With the issue resolved, he’d tried to make small talk, but she’d politely excused herself to take another call.
