Page 24
“They were young, immature, and selfish,” she says before I can finish.
“Yeah, that’s true. But here’s the part that really got to me. It was how easy it had been for her to look me dead in the eye and lie to me day after day for months while she cheated on me with someone more excitin’, and how fuckin’ oblivious I’d been.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she murmurs.
“Me too, but I couldn’t help but notice that was the second time a beautiful woman had betrayed me. I was startin’ to think that maybe I was punchin’ above my weight class and was never meant to be with a beautiful woman.”
Before she can say something else sympathetic, I take a deep breath and push out the rest of my sad story. “When I was in the Army, I met a woman at a social function. I was wary but slowly warmed up to her. She broke up with me almost a year later, saying she’d always pictured herself as an officer’s wife. I was enlisted, and she finally got her chance with an officer, so she walked out on me. It wasn’t exactly a betrayal, but I felt like I wasn’t good enough for her.”
Beth’s listening without saying a word.
I continue, “So, every woman I ever got close to either lied to my face or walked out on me the second somethin’ better came along. When we met, I wasn’t a man primed to think a beautiful woman could be fully trusted, much less that they’d want me.”
I rake my fingers through my hair and try to pull myself together. “When you started slippin’ off to meet with another man, I told myself it was professional. But once you started deletin’ your messages before anyone could see them, I started to get suspicious. I just knew somethin’ was up. And then I saw you meeting with that same man again. Only when he stood up, his jacket came open and I caught sight of his badge. When I confronted you and you tried to explain the situation to me, all I heard was a bunch of bullshit explanations that didn’t seem truthful.”
She’s got tears in her eyes now and I’m ashamed for putting them there, but she needs to understand how fuckin’ flawed I am. I keep going because if I stop before I get to the last part, she’ll never understand.
“I’ve spent the last three years thinkin’ that shit over and came to the conclusion that nothin’ that happened was your fault. You’re the best woman I’ve ever known. You were loyal and honest, everything a man could want. And I believed the worst about you and called you a liar. I didn’t deserve you, but I’m not that person anymore and I need you to see that.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She just looks at me, and then her hand comes out to cover mine. I’ve just opened myself up and shared the ugliest truth I own with this woman, and her response is to reach out to me with understanding and compassion.
I turn my hand over and grasp hers, too fuckin’ choked up with emotion to respond. I get up, come around the table, and crouch down beside her seat so we’re at eye level. Still holding her hand, I bring it to my lips. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I want you to know that I’m so fuckin’ sorry I hurt you. You’re too good for me and every other man in the world.”
Then Beth does the last thing I expect. She leans over and kisses me on the lips. I’m so taken aback that for a second, I don’t kiss her back. Then lightning strikes my brain and I’ve got one hand fisted in her hair, kissing her like she’s mine again. Just when I get lost in her soft lips and the taste of her, she jerks back, looking scandalized. Her eyes glance around to find out if anyone saw and I can see how affected she is by our kiss. She’s blushing and her chest is heaving. I swear that I can almost see her pulse pounding along her throat.
And right then and there my soul fills with dark glee. Because now I know that deep down inside, she wants me as much as I want her.
“I don’t know what got into me,” she mumbles. “But I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Beth…” I say roughly, not wanting her to take it back.
“Don’t say anything,” she interrupts. “We’ve got too much going on right now to drift back into a relationship.”
I move back, pleased that she used the R word. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”
It takes her a couple of minutes to stop internally panicking and snap back to reality. And you better believe that I’m loving every fuckin’ minute of seeing how wrecked and conflicted she is over kissing me.
I can tell she doesn’t know what to say or how to recover the conversation, so she grabs her phone. “I need to let the U.S. Attorney’s Office know I’m back and reachable before the process gets any further.”
Dropping back down into my chair, I smother back a smile. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea, sweetness.”
She shoots me a look for using endearments but doesn’t say anything because they pick up on the other end of the line. I only hear her side of the conversation but it’s enough to get the general gist of the conversation.
“Yes, I’m Beth Benson. I think the U.S. Attorney’s Office is looking for me. I’m a witness in Anthony Vale’s RICO case. I understand there is a request for an evidentiary hearing. I didn’t realize there was a subpoena out for me. I’m back in Cedar Falls and willing to testify if I’m needed.” After a brief pause, she gives them her cell phone number and e-mail address.
Our messy club girl called her a mousy little bookkeeper, but I think she has balls of fuckin’ brass. I need this woman in my life like I’ve never needed or wanted anything before.
When she gets off the phone, she clenches it in her hand and tells me, “Just so you know, over the last three years, there wasn’t anybody else for me either.”
My heart thumps so loud that I can almost hear it. I grin before I can stop myself because this is the kind of lying I approve of. She’s clearly trying to make me feel better but she forgot one very important fact.
“Is that so?” I say. “Then how about you tell me how you ended up with that adorable daughter of yours that has your hair and nose?”
We both glance out the window and see her holding up the bubble stick so another kid can blow bubbles.
I can tell I caught her off guard because she freezes for a second before opening her mouth to answer me. The smile drops off my face when I see signs of real anxiety on hers. I meant my response to be lighthearted, not anxiety-provoking.
Before she can get the words out, my phone jingles again. It’s not my regular ringtone. It’s the alert I set to let me know my trackers found something.
