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Most of all, I should have told her that Dan died because of me.
I couldn’t. No details of the reason I was there were supposed to be public nor the response team who came to rescue us. I’d already risked enough letting Brandon and Graham know.
Not being completely honest with Miranda weighed heavily on my mind. It was always there, from the very beginning, but I kept pushing it to the back of my mind, thinking I’d come clean later.
In the end, I didn’t confess to her. Now I could see no way out. No matter what I did at that point, I’d hurt her. If I left her without an explanation, just left the package of letters behind, she’d hate me and feel hurt for a while, but then she’d move on. If I told her the truth, at least as much of the truth as I could, she’d hate me and feel betrayed.
I had to stop what I was doing. I had to stop the deception.
I’d drop off the package of letters to Dan’s parent’s house. I wouldn’t stop in to speak with them. I’d leave the package in the mailbox and return to Manhattan. I’d done the wrong thing from the moment I found that package of letters in the brownstone.
There was no right thing to do at that point. I’d so thoroughly fucked everything up that there was no recovering from it.
All I could do was try to block any memory of Miranda and what we had together. I had a company in crisis and a family of criminals to watch over back in Hell’s Kitchen. As much as I wanted to forget all that and immerse myself in Miranda, lovely Miranda, I knew she’d hate me – and rightfully so – when she found out the truth.
On Saturday night, instead of going back to bed after Miranda took the limo service back home, I put on my sandals and walked down across the boardwalk to the beach. The moon was almost full and shone down on the ocean, highlighting the frothy surf. Above me were the stars, brilliant despite the moon.
I wished… I wished I’d done things right at the start of all this.
I should have found the address in Topsail Beach and just forwarded the package of letters to Dan’s parents, once I knew his identity.
If I insisted on delivering them personally, I should have introduced myself and revealed that I receive the letters in error. I should have given her the letters immediately when I walked into that bar to see if I could find Dan’s parent’s address. I should never have even considered seducing Miranda unless she knew who I was.
I stood watching the surf for a long while, knowing full well that sleep would be a long time in coming.
I went for a long run the next morning, needing to work out some of my frustration. Then, before I left the hotel, I connected to a webinar being held for one of Brimstone’s clients.
It was an important meeting but I barely heard a word. All I could think of was how Miranda would feel when she received the letters. I’d leave right after I dropped the letters off at Dan’s parent’s house. I’d leave a note explaining that I received the letters by mistake and apologize.
I’d discourage her from contacting me. It would be better to hurt her now than have her learn the truth sometime in the future, when the mission was no longer considered classified.
“I’m a dick,” I said when I called Casey during a break in the webinar, having a lapse in my resolve to never see Miranda again. “Tell me what I dick I am.”
“You’re a dick, Beckett,” she said, her tone serious. “A total dick.”
“You really mean that,” I said when I heard her tone.
“I do.”
I sighed heavily and ran a hand through my hair. “What should I do?”
I heard the rustling of pages on the other end of the call. “You already know.”
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“No,” I said. “I don’t know. If I tell her the truth, it will just bring up old pain, open an old wound.”
“Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion,” she replied.
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to tell someone that you’re a total dick.”
She chuckled. “No, I had to tell you that you’re a total dick.”
“But you enjoyed it…” I sighed again and rubbed my forehead.
“Come on, Beckett. Tell her the truth. Fess up. You’ll feel better for it. She’ll either tell you to go fuck yourself or she’ll give you another chance. This way, you’re just being a big dick like every other jerk who fucks and runs the moment that they feel something actually human for a woman.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
