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“Get out of here.”
She heard the mattress creak and the sound of his footsteps as he left the room. Cradling her throbbing hands in her lap, she sagged down on the side of the bed, stifling a sob. It was finally over between them. She’d known today that it had to happen, but she’d never imagined it would end so bitterly.
She tensed as she heard him come back into the room. “I told you to leave.”
He pressed something cold between her hands, ice cubes wrapped in a dishtowel. His voice sounded thready and slightly hoarse, as if he were pushing it through some tight, polluted place. “This should keep them from swelling up.”
She stared down at the ice pack because she couldn’t look at him. Her love for him had always felt like something warm and good, but now it felt oppressive. “Please go.”
His voice was barely a whisper. “I never did anything like that to a woman in my life. Gracie, I’m sorry. I’d do anything in the world to take back what just happened.”
The mattress sagged next to her. “I couldn’t stand to hear you say you weren’t going with me, and I had to make you stop talking. Why are you doing this, Gracie? We’ve had a real good time together. We’re friends. There’s no reason for it to stop just because of a misunderstanding.”
She finally allowed herself to look at him and was struck by the unhappiness in his eyes. “It’s a lot more than a misunderstanding,” she whispered. “I can’t be with you any longer.”
“Of course you can. We’ll have a lot of fun in L.A. And as soon as the picture’s over, I’ve been thinking we should take my mom on a cruise.”
At that moment she knew she had to be honest with him. She needed to find the courage to speak what was in her heart, not because she thought it would change anything, but because she would never be able to heal if she didn’t do this. Meeting his eyes, she spoke the most difficult words she’d ever had to utter. “I love you, Bobby Tom. I’ve loved you almost from the beginning.”
He didn’t look surprised by her admission, and his casual acceptance was another knife wound. She realized he’d known the way she felt all along, and contrary to her fantasies, he hadn’t reciprocated at all.
He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It’s all right, honey. I’ve had experience with this before, and we can work it out.”
Her voice was a dry rasp. “Experience with what?”
“With this.”
“With women telling you they love you?”
“Heck, Gracie, it’s just one of those things. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. We are friends. You might be just about the best friend I ever had.”
He was driving nails into her, and he didn’t even know it.
“See, Gracie, it doesn’t have to spoil anything. Something I’ve learned over the years is that, as long as everybody’s polite about it, there isn’t any need for all kind of big scenes and carrying on. People can still be friends.”
The corners of the ice cubes dug into her throbbing hands. “You’re still friends with all the other women who’ve told you they loved you?”
“Almost all of them. And I want to stay that way with you. Now, I don’t really think we have to talk about it anymore. We’ll just go on the way we were, and everything’ll work out. You’ll see.”
The declaration of love that was so shattering to her was nothing more than a social embarrassment to him. If she’d needed any more proof of how little she meant to him, she’d just received it, and she felt numb and humiliated. “You still think I’m going to take the job you’re offering?”
“You’d be crazy not to.”
“You don’t understand anything, do you?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Now, Gracie—”
“I’m not taking the job,” she said softly. “On Monday I’m leaving to go back to New Grundy.”
“You don’t like the salary? Fine. We’ll negotiate.”
“For all your talk, you don’t know the first thing about love.” Tears spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She slipped the chain that held his Super Bowl ring over her head and pressed it into his palm. “I love you, Bobby Tom, and I’ll love you till the day I die. But I’ve never been for sale. I was a free offering all along.”
Bobby Tom strode across the yard at a slow, even pace. Halfway over he stopped to admire the moon, just in case Gracie was watching him from the window, but he didn’t take as long about it as he wanted because he was having trouble breathing. He resumed his course toward the back door, forcing himself not to pick up his pace. He even tried to whistle, but his mouth was too dry. The ring in his pocket felt as if it were burning a hole through his hip; he wanted to pull the damned thing out and throw it as far from him as he could.
When he got inside the house, he closed the door then leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d blown it, and he didn’t even know how. Dammit! He was the one who did the rejecting. He was the one who decided when it was time to end a relationship! But she didn’t understand that. She’d never understood the simplest things. What kind of fool would refuse the opportunity of a lifetime just to go back to some podunk town and empty bedpans?
He pushed himself away from the door and stalked through the kitchen. He wasn’t going to feel guilty about this. Gracie was the one who’d done the rejecting, and this was on her conscience, not his. So she loved him. Of course, she loved him; he couldn’t help who he was. But
