Page 106 of The Marriage Mistake

“Won’t you?”

“No!” He exhaled. It was a short, bitter huff that burst out of him as he shook his head. “No, I won’t regret it. The only thing I regret is pushing you away.”

I frowned. That…didn’t make sense. My mind whirled, and I clung to the only thing that did. We had a deal. There was a plan. All we had to do was follow it. “The money should hit your account within⁠—”

“Will you stop—” Jack shoved his hand in his hair, gripped it, and tugged, as if he needed the pain to center himself. His eyes darkened, and he glared at me as he said, “I don’t give a shit about the money, Ember.”

“The whole point of this was the money!”

“Not for me!” The words burst out of him, and he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He brandished them at me, and I recognized the contract we’d signed. His copy, with both our signatures on it. He was still wearing his wedding ring, and it shone between white knuckles as he gripped the top of the contract. With his eyes blazing, he ripped the contract in half. Then he took the shredded paper and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. Half of it fluttered to the ground.

I stared. The brain I was so proud of refused to provide an explanation. “That doesn’t actually cancel the contract,” I said.

“So give me your copy. Give me whatever computer it’s stored on. Give me your lawyer’s information. I’ll destroy all evidence of that fucking contract, and then I’ll come back here and ask you if now you understand what I’m telling you.”

I didn’t understand. My pulse hammered, and the rushing in my ears was so loud I had to strain to make sense of his words.

“While we’re at it,” he said, reaching into his pocket again. He ripped out another sheaf of papers—the divorce petition. He ripped those too, multiple times, until there was legal confetti all over my floor.

“Jack—”

“I’m not letting you divorce me.” He sliced his hand through the air, emphatic.

It was hard to breathe. My hands were clenched into fists, and I focused on the feel of my nails digging into my palms. “Why not?”

“Because I love you!” His words echoed against the white walls. At my wide-eyed stare, he spread his palms toward me and said, “Ember, I got those divorce papers and it felt like my heart was getting ripped out. I fucking sobbed. Do you hear me? I pushed you away and treated you like shit and you left, and I didn’t realize what a monumental fucking mistake I’d made until I got that email. I love you. I love you.”

My brain screeched denial. This was a man who had every woman in that town at his beck and call. He loved being made to feel like he was desired, important, attractive. I’d just been one woman in a long line of women who filled that need for him.

He didn’t love me. He was just angry that I’d walked away. I’d hit him right in that big ego of his, and now he needed to come here and ruin the tiny bit of peace I’d found just to make himself feel better.

I shook my head. “No, you don’t. You barely even know me.”

“I know that you’re smart and funny and you keep your true self hidden because every time you open up, you get hurt. You lock yourself away behind that hard shell of yours because you’re terrified of somebody really seeing you.”

My heart felt like it had been punched. I straightened. “Get out.”

“Ember, I know these things because I’m exactly the same way. I get it. For eleven years, I’ve gone through life hiding from everyone, including myself. Hiding the fact that for years, the only reason I didn’t give up completely was because Darby needed me. Telling myself I didn’t need or want a relationship. Hiding behind casual sex and flirtation and telling myself it was enough.” His eyes pleaded with me. He licked his lips. Shook his head. “It wasn’t enough, and if you hadn’t come along, I would have gone the rest of my life lying to myself.”

I had to take tiny little breaths to take air in. I was on the edge of falling apart.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about since I left my house this morning? The drive to Bangor and the flight here and the taxi ride and those torturous minutes when I thought you weren’t going to let me in? You know what I kept thinking about?”

He needed to leave. I wanted him to leave. I wanted to go back to how things were before. Didn’t I?

Still, I whispered, “What’s that?”

“I thought about your name, Ember. Because that’s exactly what you were to me. This small, glowing, burning-hot coal that lit a fire in my soul. You melted the ice I’d encased myself in and reminded me what it feels like to be warm and alive. And then I pushed you away and told you it meant nothing. I’m sorry, Ember. So fucking sorry for how I treated you.”

My cheeks were wet. I ducked my head and wiped at them, not wanting him to see me like this. He already had so much power over me; I didn’t want to give him any more. Sniffling, I gave my cheeks one last wipe and shook my head. I met his gaze, my chin lifted. “You were right,” I told him. “I overstepped when I went behind your back to talk to Darby about piano. It wasn’t my place to do that.”

Jack exhaled. His shoulders fell, and the way he looked at me made everything in me go still. It was a mix of such fondness and exasperation and…and love. “Ember,” he said gently, taking a step toward me. “You didn’t overstep. You were right. I was pushing her away—pushing her to the breaking point. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

He closed the distance between us, his hand sliding over my cheek. My bottom lip trembled as he stroked my skin, and I had to close my eyes to keep myself from falling apart. He smelled like the outdoors and Jack. His palm was warm, and all I wanted to do was fall into his chest and let him hold me.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what you’re wrong about?” Jack murmured, bending his head so I could feel his breath coast over my lips.

“No,” I said, stubborn.