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“You’re a bastard,” she said, her voice low but not so low that I didn’t hear it.
I said nothing, barely able to contain my emotions, walking fast, almost running away from her. My heart was pounding in my chest, my throat constricted.
I was a bastard by any definition of the term. What a fucking idiot I was to come here. How much more painful a day must I have made it for her? I thought I would get there early and miss the memorial, as it was scheduled for eleven o’clock. I never expected them to arrive earlier…
I drove off, my chest tight, my eyes blurry. I deserved everything she threw at me. I should have stayed and taken it like a man. I would have if I could have told her the truth, but that would make it all even worse.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
Miranda
Beckett?
What was he doing there? He turned and began walking away briskly, and I realized he was going to leave without saying anything. I couldn’t let him do it. I followed him, anger and hurt building inside of me.
“Where are you going?” Jeanne called out to me as I ran behind Beckett.
I reached his side and he turned around to face me, his face flushed, his brow furrowed. He wore his uniform and looked so incredibly perfect – so handsome, strong.
“You knew,” I said and hit his shoulder, angry and confused, wanting to hurt him, wanting him to hold me, not knowing which was right. “You knew all along who I was.”
He held his hands up defensively. “I did,” he said. When I stopped hitting, he took hold of my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t understand. Did he think saying sorry was all it would take?
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” I said and stepped away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands. He let go and we stood there, a foot apart, not looking at each other in the eye.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, barely able to speak. “Was getting laid so important that you’d sleep with me, knowing that I wrote those letters? Why didn’t you just give them to me instead of waiting until after you seduced me?”
He shook his head, his expression almost desperate. “It was wrong. I know it was. I was afraid if you knew who I was, you’d hate me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Why would I hate you?”
I was so confused. What did he mean – I’d hate him if I knew? I’d be thankful that he returned the letters. I wouldn’t hate him. We could have still had dinner, gone out together. I would have still fucked him. Maybe. Probably.
There was no doubt that I wanted him almost from the moment I saw him.
“I have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry…” He turned to leave but I couldn’t let it go.
“I know you got the letters by mistake,” I said. “Why would I hate you for that?”
He backed away. “Goodby
e, Miranda. I’m sorry all this happened.”
Then he turned and left me standing there, tears overflowing despite my anger.
“You’re a bastard,” I said to him but he didn’t stop or respond. I don’t know what I wanted him to do at that moment – except explain. To make it all right so I could be with him.
I wanted to run after him and hit him, pound him. Mostly, I wanted him to be the man I thought he was – an honorable former Marine, DEA Agent, software engineer running his own company, who couldn’t seem to resist me.
Instead, he was a liar who deceived me, seducing me all while pretending he knew nothing about me. He knew everything.
I turned and ran back to the car, closing the door and covering my eyes. Jeanne followed me, opening the other passenger door and slipping in beside me.
“What’s the matter, hun? Who was that? Why are you crying?”
I shook my head, unable to speak at the moment. I wiped my eyes and stared off into the distance. Finally, I was calm enough that I could speak.
