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Still, it was hard to appreciate the humor of the situation with his heart bleeding out of his chest. He’d intended to say the words, eventually, but in the proper setting, with the right lead-in. Say the words first and be prepared to deal with her doubts. He knew damn well she had them. Doubts about the chances of two people like them, who’d never known love, creating one that lasted a lifetime.
He hadn’t said the words, even though he felt them. She had, and it should have thrilled him, but it sucked. Not only because she hadn’t meant to say it, but because afterward, she’d looked at him like some kind of dead-end detour she’d accidentally taken. She’d certainly thrown herself into reverse and hauled ass in the other direction as quickly as she could. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him insisted her reaction affirmed a lesson he should have learned when his mother left. Namely, he wasn’t the kind of guy women stuck around for, invested in, or planned on spending forever with.
Another part of him recognized the thoughts as Big Joe talking in his head, telling him he wasn’t good enough. He’d done his best to ignore his father when alive. He sure as hell shouldn’t listen to a dead man.
He should listen to his gut. And his gut told him Ellie loved him. The knowledge rattled her. Understandable, considering how much she liked her plans. She felt safe with everything mapped out, and loving him threw her into uncharted territory. She’d need a moment to get her bearings, sort out her feelings. Maybe more than a moment, but the point was, she needed time.
He’d give her ’til Monday. Then ready or not, they were going to talk.
Chapter Sixteen
Ellie stared into her bedroom mirror and adjusted the strapless top of the short, red scarf of a dress she’d chosen as her drive-Roger-wild outfit—just one more detail of her meticulously orchestrated evening. During the past forty-eight hours she’d reaffirmed her ability to push distractions aside, stay the course, and stick to a damn plan. Of course, it helped that she’d had a zillion things to accomplish in preparation for tonight.
No time for worries about where Frank had been Saturday evening when she’d stopped by, or hours later when she’d driven past his darkened house on her way home from Tyler’s. She’d shoved those concerns to the back burner and strategized every nuance of her date with Roger, from the menu, to her outfit, to, most importantly, which chapters she’d employ to prove she was his ideal woman.
Whenever her irrational internal debate about what, if anything, Tyler had thought of her heat-of-passion outburst Saturday night threatened to interrupt her efforts, she’d ruthlessly silenced those voices. The questions had absolutely no bearing on tonight. He didn’t belong in her head. Right now she needed to give her entire focus to her Win Roger Plan, because tonight’s date represented a critical milestone.
She touched up her makeup and ticked through her mental checklist for the evening. Seductive hair? Check. The tousled updo artfully suggested she’d just gotten out of bed and could be talked back in with very little effort. Enticing outfit? Check. The wispy little dress looked like a stiff breeze could blow it off. The super-high red heels she’d bought to go with it screamed “Screw me. Now.” Basically, she’d never worn a sexier ensemble in her life.
Too bad she’d never felt less sexy, or more nauseous. Nerves or…something…had s
unk a cold ball of dread in the pit of her stomach. The ball rolled uneasily every time she thought about Roger here, in her bedroom, or the two of them delving into any of the chapters she’d mastered. Performance anxiety? Maybe. She blotted the sweat on her forehead and told herself to calm down.
Then the doorbell chimed and calm officially left the building. She forced her lips into a smile and hurried to the door.
Roger stood there, pale under his golden tan, hands smoothing his white linen shirt over his khaki pants.
“Hello, Roger. Please come in.” God, she sounded like an undertaker.
“Thanks. Oh, my goodness.” He blushed to the roots of his hair. “You look so…gosh, what’s the word?”
For some reason, his stammering reaction only ratcheted up her tension. She felt like she was sitting on a roller coaster perched at the top of the very first drop, and suddenly realized she didn’t want to take the plunge. All this time she’d been following her plan, so bent on achieving her goal that she’d ignored every click of conscience warning her she was going farther and farther along the wrong track. The Roger she wanted was a fantasy of her own creation, not a real man. In reality she barely knew the man standing on her doorstep, and she certainly wasn’t in love with him.
“Ellie, I think maybe you’ve got the wrong—”
“Roger, I’m so sorry, but I can’t—”
Their words overlapped and they both stopped short, leaving a deafening silence. Roger broke it with a weak laugh. “Sorry. Ladies first.”
“No, I’m the sorry one.” She sighed and let out a long breath. “I know you’re expecting wild, Slap & Tickle-style sex tonight—and I wanted you to think that’s exactly the kind of woman I am—but I’m not and, I’m sorry, I just can’t. I’m an idiot for dragging you out here under false pretenses.”
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes, surprised to see his jaw relax and a faint smile tug at his lips. “I think when it comes to false pretenses, I win the prize.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, but you deserve to. Can we sit down and talk?”
So much for hostess of the year. “Of course,” she said quickly, and led him into the front room, turning on lights as she went and blowing out the ridiculous candles she’d placed everywhere. They sat on the sofa, facing each other. If he noticed the soft, sax-heavy music oozing from the sound system or the iced bottle of champagne and duo of flutes on the end table, he didn’t comment. Instead he took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. “I didn’t ask to see you tonight because I expected for us to have sex. I’m…” He exhaled and looked away. “This is harder than I imagined.”
She put a hand on his arm. “You can tell me anything.”
His eyes met hers again. “I’m gay.”
Gay? Roger was gay? Her mind went blank, and then replayed a montage of scenes that took on new and completely obvious meaning. She remembered how wistfully he’d spoken about his friend from New York the evening she’d removed his splinter, and how uncomfortable he’d been introducing Doug at Slap & Tickle. Lord, she’d been so blind.
“You and Doug?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I thought you figured it out the night you saw us together at Slap & Tickle. Doug said no, but I was paranoid. We both realized Tyler knew, and I figured he’d out me, though I shouldn’t have. He’s not that kind of person. When you and I spoke the next morning at Jiffy Java, your responses made me think you knew. That’s why I asked if we could get together and talk. I wanted to explain—to tell you I’m trying really hard to keep my orientation private. Hardly anyone here knows.”
