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But now the reality is here right in front of me, and all I can think is that I'm not cut out for this. The longer I stay, the more I’ll hurt her when I leave.
A family man? Hell, I've been a lone ranger forever. I’ve never let myself hope to have a family like hers—it would hurt too much when it didn’t happen.
And after walking into that homestead last night, meeting her father, her brothers, her sisters-in-law, her niece, I saw what I never had. A real family who cared, supported, cherished.
My mind races, panic rising.
"Hey," Lemon says, her eyes opening, looking at me in the sleepy, sexy way she has. "You okay?"
I'm sitting up in bed already, reaching for my clothes. "I've been better. I’m gonna jump in the shower."
"Oh no," she says. "Do I need a bigger bed to accommodate two people?" I thought a queen-size would be fine, but you're what, six-three?"
I force a smile on my face. "Something like that," I tell her.
She sits up, brushing her dark hair from her face, a sheet wrapped around her perfect tits. I ignore my aching cock and focus instead on what I need to say before it's too late. I've already spun this woman up into my web, and I know it's going to break her heart to unravel it, but better now than later.
“Okay, I’m gonna put on sweats and go grab us coffees, sound good?”
“Sure, sounds great.” She leans over and gives me a kiss before jumping out of bed.
In the shower I try to think things through—but I'm doubting my ability to be the man Lemon needs.
When she returns fifteen minutes later, I’ve gotten dressed. She hands me a croissant while reading me a text from her phone. “Abby is planning dinner tonight. She wants to know if you have any allergies.”
“A family get together tonight? Weren’t you all together last night?”
Lemon laughs. “We probably get together half the nights of the week. Usually spur of the moment.”
“I have no allergies, but—”
“Oh, Rye is asking if you like to hunt. I guess there is a trip planned for next weekend.”
“Next weekend? Lemon, we—”
“I know, he is probably trying to be a good big brother and not scare you away like he has been doing with guys my whole life.” She pauses, setting down her phone. "What is it?" she asks. "You look so tense, so..."
I set down my pastry. “The thing is, Lemon, I—"
Her face falls. "Are you breaking up with me before we've even become something? Oh my god." She groans as I shake my head, running a hand over my beard.
"It's not because I want to. It's because—"
"Don't," she says, "don't do this. You don't owe me anything. We've only known each other for a few days and we're nothing official, so..." She picks up her latte, walking out of the kitchen.
I follow her into the hallway—the hallway filled with family photographs, memories of a full and happy life.
"Listen," I say, "I'm not the man you need."
She turns to me, slowly. Eyes filled with regret. "Not the man I need," she repeats, her voice slow, steady. "And why is that? How do you know that with such certainty?"
She is so beautiful, a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. I want to pull her to me and kiss her heart and tell her that I can absolutely be what she needs, but I’m scared to make that kind of promise. And she's the kind of woman who needs promises, real promises. She deserves it.
"Look," I tell her, trying again. "You are incredible."
She laughs tightly. "But?"
"But I'm not good enough for you. Lemon, you're—"
"Lovely," she says. "Wonderful, incredible. One of a kind?" she asks, her eyes brimming with tears. “That's what you've said, but I guess it's not enough for you. I'm not enough for you."
"That's not what I'm saying," I tell her, stepping toward her.
She puts up a hand though. "No, don't. You've said plenty."
"You deserve a guy who knows what it's like to be in a family, who knows what it's like to put down roots, who—"
She swallows. "Fine," she says flatly, "you're not that guy. I guess it's better I know that now rather than later, right?"
I nod. "That's what I was wanting to tell you."
"Fine," she says. "You should go."
"I don't want it to be like this."
Her eyes widen. She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. "Don't say that. You're picking this, so it is what you want."
"No," I tell her. "It's not. I just—"
"I just," she says, her voice harsher now, "need to get ready so I can go see my grandma in the hospital. All right? I don't have time for heartbreak right now. I have to focus on my family. That's what I always do. Put my family first. And you, Anchor, are not my family. Even though," she shakes her head, her voice cracking, "even though, I swear to God, I could see it all—a life with you."
