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“Come on, come on,” Claire muttered under her breath, checking her watch and willing Harley to appear. Now that she’d made her decision, she wanted to get it over with, was eager to make a clean break and end the sham of an engagement.
“Welcome to the Hotel California . . .”
She heard his car before she saw it, then caught the gleam of flashy wheels and emerald green paint as the car sped under a security lamp. Give me strength, she silently prayed while wondering if breaking off with him would hurt him at all. Maybe he’d be as relieved as she to be unshackled from a burdensome relationship.
“. . . pink champagne on ice . . .”
Throat dry she watched him walking rapidly along the weathered pier. “Claire.” Raising a hand, he smiled and jogged the short distance separating them.
“. . . we are all just prisoners here, of our own device . . .”
“God, I’ve missed you,” Harley said, spinning her off her feet and holding her close. Her heart began to shred as he buried his face in her neck and kissed her with a pent-up passion she could feel in the heat of his skin.
And yet she didn’t respond. Couldn’t. He tried to kiss her lips, but she pulled her head back and disentangled herself.
“Don’t.” Her voice was husky with unshed tears. Suddenly this wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped it would be.
“What?” he asked, his handsome face perplexed as he lowered his face close to hers.
“. . . you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave . . .”
“Just stop.”
“Are you serious?” He smiled, that shy, unsteady smile that had once melted her heart.
“Very. Look, Harley, we need to talk,” she said, and cringed when she saw his expression turn guarded. He glanced at her ringless hand and slowly let out his breath.
“This is about Kendall, isn’t it?”
Her heart sank. Even though she’d planned to break it off with him, she didn’t want to think that he’d really been unfaithful. But he had. The truth was evident in the newfound defiant tilt of his jaw. “No, not really,” she choked out, surprised that his quick confession stung so deeply. She’d assumed the rumors to be true, but to hear it from his own lips . . . “This is about us. It’s . . . it’s not working.”
“Oh, God.” He paled, his face blue-white in the glow from the bulbs strung along the pier.
“I think we both know it.” She took his hand, turned it palm up, and dropped the ring that had been cutting into her skin into his open fingers.
“No,” he whispered. “Claire, no.”
“It’s for the best.”
Tears sprouted in his eyes. “But I love you. You know I do.”
“No, Harley, I don’t think—”
He reached forward and she shrank away from him. “Don’t.” But his fingers were already digging into the muscles of her shoulders, fastening her to him.
“I can’t lose you.”
“It’s over.”
“I’ll tell Kendall we’re through. For good. I swear. I’ll find a way to make her see that I love you. Only you.”
“No, Harley—”
He kissed her. Crushing her against him, tears sliding down his cheeks, he kissed her, and she tasted the bitter salt on his lips as well as more than a trace of alcohol. “I’d give up everything for you,” he swore. “Everything.” He clutched her hair and sobbed brokenly against her neck.
“No, Harley, please, don’t . . .” Her own eyes burned as he clung to her.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You’ll never regret this, but, please, Claire, don’t . . . don’t say it’s over.”
