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“Thank you for everything—” I began, looking unflinchingly into his unbearably handsome face. I’d been rehearsing the words.
“Don’t thank me,” he interrupted in a terrible voice. He grabbed my shoulders in both of his big hands. His grip was hard. His eyes were desperate.
“Don’t fucking thank me.” He was shaking as he said it, shaking so hard he shook me with him.
I shrugged him off, stepping back. “Thank you for the opportunities,” I continued determinedly. “And for the lessons.” It came out heavy and thick, like something unholy being dragged out of me.
“Stop it,” he said.
“Happily. Now sign the papers, and I’ll be out of your life for good.”
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “And don’t say that. Any of it. Take it back. And don’t thank me.” He was begging by the end, his voice little more than a whisper. “Don’t leave me.”
I stared at him. “Is it about the money? Is that it? Will Pasco pull the rug out from under your business once we’re divorced?” It was petty, but I wanted to know.
He glared. “My father already withdrew his initial capital. He did it as soon as you filed for divorce. It didn’t matter. I already found other backers. Fuck my father’s money. This has nothing to do with that. This is about us. I don’t want a divorce.”
It was something. I couldn’t even lie to myself about that, but I was still resolute. In a matter of months he’d broken my heart in too many places for me to risk it with him again. Imagine the damage if I stayed longer. “This is all for the best.” I was certain of it at that point. I turned to leave.
“What if it’s not?” he asked my retreating back. “What if it’s for the worst? Will you come back?”
I swiveled back, surprising him. “Why would I? Give me one good reason.”
My lips couldn’t shape the words, and his heart could not own them.
I love you.
That might have held some weight, but he’d never lied to me. Why start now?
His silence was just the demolition crew I’d needed to clear out the rest of my heart.
I turned back to leave. My hand was on the doorknob when he spoke again.
“I never lied to you.” He seemed to pluck the words right out of my brain, throwing them at me like they should mean something. Like they should matter.
“So what?” I spat back. “You think that outright betrayal is less hurtful than lies? Why the hell does it matter that you didn’t lie? Lying would’ve been a mercy.”
“It matters because it means that when I do make promises to you, I’ll keep them.”
“I won’t ask for any promises from you, Calder. You’re off the hook. It’s just what you wanted from the start.”
“It’s not what I want now.”
I couldn’t stand the way his anguished face made me want to believe his tempting words. It made me feel vicious. “How’s Fatima, by the way? Are you the father?”
He flinched, taking a step back. “I still don’t know yet. She’s dragging it out as much as possible. I wish she’d just put me out of my misery.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re doing the same thing with this divorce, you know. Now put me out of my misery.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Banks didn’t quite put me out of my misery, not how I’d hoped, but he did sign the papers.
Our weekly coffee dates were beyond strange.
Beyond strange as in stiltedly civil. Almost friendly but charged.
