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When she reached across the table to put her hand on his, he pulled it away.
“Griffin?”
He scrubbed his face and took a deep breath. “This isn’t going to work out, Aine.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and me. We’ve run our course.”
He’d expected her look of confusion and maybe some tears, but so far, she wasn’t crying.
“I don’t understand.”
“We talked about the age difference between us in the past, and it’s more of an issue than I thought it would be.”
Her cheeks turned bright red. “I see.”
“We have very different lives. It isn’t only that I’m so much older than you are. I have a career, and I know what I want out of life. I thought I wanted a long-term relationship, but I’ve realized I don’t. I tried, and it isn’t what I thought it would be.”
There was little she could say in argument, and he’d planned it that way.
She rose from the table and walked toward the bedroom, but Striker didn’t follow. If he did, he might be tempted to take back everything he said and tell her the real reason he was ending things between them. He couldn’t do that, though. He could feel his heart splinter, but his pain didn’t matter. He couldn’t saddle someone like Aine with the baggage he’d be carrying with him his entire life.
She rolled her small suitcase into the kitchen and told him she’d called a car service to pick her up.
“I can give you a ride, Aine.”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait outside.”
“Aine—”
“Please, Griffin. You said what you needed to say. I’d rather not discuss it further.” She opened the door and walked out. Again, he didn’t follow.
Striker put the earrings back in his pocket, telling himself he needed to stop the foolishness of buying gifts for a woman who was no longer in his life, but knowing full well that the next time he saw something he thought she would like, he wouldn’t be able to resist.
As hard as it was to leave Yachats without seeing her one more time, it was for the best. He’d angered her when he made it obvious he thought about her, even paid attention to her life. She would never know the real extent to which he did.
“Were those earrings for your wife?” the older woman sitting in the seat next to him asked.
“Just a friend,” he answered.
“She’s a lucky woman.”
“She wouldn’t agree.”
The woman touched his arm with her hand. “Why wouldn’t she?”
Much to his surprise, Striker found himself telling the woman about Aine and their history.
“I did what I thought was best for her,” he admitted, “but I miss her every day.”
The woman studied him with her chin in her hand.
“I feel like there’s something you want to say.”
She raised and lowered her eyebrows with the deep breath she took, and then patted his hand. “You don’t need to hear my opinion to know what you need to do next.”
“If you’re going to say anything other than I should stay away from her, I disagree.”
