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“What does your heart say, Rad?” I swallow a lump in my throat.
“Having feelings doesn’t make me weak. They make me human, something I might have forgotten to be in some ways. I had my eyes set on a prize and lost the ability to see what winning was doing to me and, worse, how it was affecting you.”
She sighs, but it’s not sad or impatient. It’s taking a moment to absorb my words. It’s everything I hoped would happen. “Okay.”
“I don’t need awards or accolades. I don’t need pats on the back or to make partner, Tealey. Because if I don’t have you, none of that matters anymore.”
Her eyes are cast down. Not that I blame her, but her blank stare and straight mouth are killing me inside.
“Tealey?”
She looks back up, eyeing me through the crack of the door.
“I wouldn’t have hidden us from the world if I thought I’d had a choice. I did have a choice, though. I see that now. I was making a choice to play a part of that charade every day.”
The tension between us is thick and full of the emotions we both share. I can barely hear Tealey’s quick breaths over my own pulse rushing through my veins.
I love her. God, I love her. I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone.
“Tealey . . .”
She pauses, hesitation warring in those sparkling blues. Finally, as I shove my hands in my pockets to stop from reaching out to her, she pulls the door open a bit wider.
Her eyes dart to the floor as if looking at me is too hard. “Jackson went for a run. If you want to come in for a minute, that would be okay.”
Relief swamps me as I try not to overreact. “I’d appreciate that.”
She moves away from the door as I enter, keeping a wide distance between us. Not having her pressed against me in our usual greeting is another dagger in my heart and a reminder of all I’ve lost.
All we’ve lost. Because my actions caused Tealey to lose, too.
She moves to the leather couch, where it looks like she’s been camping out. Stuff is littered across the coffee table, from soda cans to snack wrappers, balled-up tissues, and a paperback book.
Closing the door behind me, I take the opening as an opportunity to lay out the rest of my case. Though I’m not sure where to sit or if I should stand. I’m thinking right next to her probably won’t go over well, so I sit in a chair on the other side of the coffee table from her.
She settles into the cushions and then twists her hair on top of her head, fastening it with an elastic before she rests back. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she toys with the belt of her robe and then takes an audible breath. “Go on.”
“Do you have any questions for me? Anything on your mind?”
She glances away with a look of annoyance filtering through her features. “Too many to bother asking at this stage.”
“What stage is that?”
“The one that has us going in reverse instead of moving forward with our own lives.” What is my own life without her? Doesn’t she see?
“I don’t want that,” I say, trying my best to stay calm and not just blurt out that I love her. She needs to be heard, especially after what I put her through. So, I let her lead.
She furrows her brows, seemingly baffled. “You don’t want what? The reverse or the forward?”
“Either. Neither option works for me.”
She arches a brow. “Well, this isn’t only about you anymore.”
“It never was only about me. I tried to do my best for everyone who wanted a piece of me and failed miserably.”
“You failed because you focused on the stuff that was always going to come back at you negatively. Such a tangled web you weaved.” She pushes up, her back stiffening. Her hands clasp together in front of her chest. “You had me, Rad. You had me and chose to lose me over what you keep calling a charade. Getting engaged goes beyond a faux romance that was supposedly performed for Marlow’s dad.”
Taken aback, I stare at her, now knowing why she was so upset. “You heard I was engaged?”
The question makes her bristle. “Every guest heard you were engaged, that you made it official with Marlow down on the beach before the wedding.”
What the fuck is going on? “Who’d you hear that from?”
She crosses her arms over her chest again. “Doesn’t matter,” she says pointedly.
Now everything makes sense. “It sure the fuck does matter. Someone telling you something that they had no right to say is my fucking business.”
“Not if it doesn’t change things.” She summons a deep breath, but it’s shaky. “An engagement is a declaration of your love,” she says, her voice sounding wistful. “It shows the world you’ve found your soul mate.”
