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“This,” he says, waving a hand between us. “Isn’t going to work.”
I take a step back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, I did. But I don’t understand. What do you mean this isn’t going to work?”
Pinching his lips together, Rex scowls. “You and me, we’re not going to work. It’s over, Shae.”
“Really?” I scoff, looking around at everything he’s planned for tonight. “I don’t believe that for a second. If you were planning to end things, why go through all of this trouble? Why spend so much time making me feel special, doing these nice things for me?”
“Don’t fucking push me on this.”
“I will push you on this,” I yell, stepping into his personal space. “Because I deserve to know what I did. I deserve to know why you suddenly feel like we can’t be together.”
“I can’t give you these things,” he shouts, motioning toward the rooftop. “You deserve them, and I thought I was the man to give them to you, but I was wrong.” Swallowing hard, his eyes dart to the ground. “I can’t give you want you need.”
“And what is it you think I need?”
“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“A little late for that. What happened after I left Vault?”
He shrugs, his eyes returning to mine. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” We stare at each other, each of us waiting for the other to cave, but Rex’s face is hard as stone, and I know it won’t be him. “You know what? You’re right. This will never work. Because in order for it to work, we have to be honest with each other. I bared my soul to you, but you’re a fucking coward who can’t give me a straight answer.”
Pulling the blanket from my shoulders, I toss it at him.
He catches it, his wide eyes watching me warily.
“I do deserve all of this, and I deserve a strong, confident man who can give it to me, and clearly that isn’t you.”
I slip my shoes on and pull the key he gave me out of my pocket. I drop it on the table next to the wine and snag the icing because damn it, I need the icing. Then without a second glance, I walk out of Rex’s life.
An hour later, I’m standing in my kitchen, staring at the tub of frosting that held so many promises and wondering how things could’ve gone this wrong. One moment we were feeding each other dessert, making plans for the evening, and the next he’s dumping me.
Fucking coward.
With heavy legs, I walk across the kitchen, grab a spoon from the drawer, and take a big, hefty bite of icing. My eyes roll back in my head when the thick chocolate hits my tongue.
I could’ve had so much fun licking this off Rex.
Carrying it with me into the bathroom, I take another bite, not feeling at all guilty for the extra calories. Every time a man hurts a woman, he should send her a tub of this icing. It should be a requirement. Sorry I don’t want to see you anymore. Here, enjoy this amazing sweetness. Or Sorry I lied to you. Here, drown you sorrows in chocolate fudge. Yup, that sounds pretty fucking fantastic.
What’s the big fucking deal? I ask myself as I re-pile my hair into a knot on top of my head. So what if he doesn’t want to be with you? You ended your two-year drought. Allowed a mega-hot guy to push your sexual limits, and now you can walk away without any attachments, which is exactly what you wanted.
Slathering moisturizer on my face, I work it in, frowning.
Yes, that’s what I wanted. But somewhere along the way it changed—my feelings for him changed, and foolishly, I thought he felt the same way. He said he felt the same way. I gave him the naked truth. I assumed we were on the same page.
I guess that’s what I get for assuming. I can almost hear my dad say, “You know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and me.”
Frustrated, I change into my pajamas, put the icing away—after two more licks—and brush my teeth. Shutting off the light, I crawl into bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and close my eyes. A second later my chin begins to quiver, followed by a sting in the back of my nose.
No. He does not deserve your tears. You are so much better than him.
I flip over in bed, situating my pillow, and those damn tears start to fall.
