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“Maybe I don’t need your charity anymore.” She flings off the blanket, turning so that her legs are hanging over the side of the bed. Even though it’s the afternoon, she’s still wearing pajama pants and a tank top, the latter of which does very little to disguise the way her nipples are pressing against the thin fabric. After a week away from her, it’s hard to ignore. But this also clearly isn’t the time for that.
“My—charity?” I blink at her. “This isn’t charity, you know that, Ana. I care for you—Iloveyou, so what the hell put that into your head?”
“Not what,” she mumbles, refusing to look at me. “Who.”
Something goes through me at that, a pinging sense of alarm that warns me that whatever happened in my absence, whatever’s about to happen now, isn’t going to be good. But there’s nothing to do but keep pushing forward, and find out.
“What do you mean,who? Ana, what are you talking about?” I take a couple of steps further into the room. She finally looks up at me, her blue eyes accusing and glittering with barely unshed tears.
“Your fiancée came by.Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
She spits out the name, and the instant it comes out, hanging in the air between us, I feel my heart sink to my very toes.
Shit.
Fuck.
I’d thought I could handle the situation with Saoirse before Ana found out. I’d thought that maybe, she didn’t need to know—or I’d tell her after it was handled when there was nothing left for her to fear. When it was certain that we’d be together, and it would just be a story to tell—athis almost happened, but I loved you too much to let it.
Clearly, I’d miscalculated.
“Ana—”
“Just tell me if it’s true.” Her voice is watery, the tears starting to brim on the edges of her lashes, threatening to fall. It rips my heart out to see her like this, and I kick myself mentally for ever thinking that this was the way to handle it, for not telling her and trusting her to be able to handle it, to be patient while I found my way out of this mess that I’ve gotten myself into.
I keep misjudging, at every step, how to best handle this, it feels like.
“Did she come here?” That thought makes me angry—I’ve never brought Saoirse back to my penthouse, never invited her here. The idea that she’d barged in on her own makes me want to throttle her, metaphorically, at least. I’d never actually hurt her. But I want to tell her never to fucking come to my apartment without an invitation again, that’s for sure.
“Yes.” Ana swallows hard. “She—I thought it was you, that you’d forgotten something. She came in, and—she said—the ring—” Ana starts to cry, her words breaking off as she claps a hand over her mouth to stifle it, and all I want is to go to her, to hold her and comfort her. But something tells me that wouldn’t exactly be welcomed right now.
“Just tell me,” Ana whispers. “Was she telling the truth? Are you engaged to her?”
I let out a breath, feeling all the air go out of me as my shoulders sag. “Yes,” I say finally, and the pain that warps Ana’s expression makes me wish that I could go back and do everything all over again, so that I could do it so much differently.
“It’s not what you think,” I start to say, and Ana’s face twists, her eyes narrowing.
“That’s what they all fucking say,” she spits. “You’re not really going to use that line on me, are you, after all of this?It’s not what you think.Are you kidding me?”
“It’s not.” I grit my teeth, running one hand through my hair as I try to think of a way to explain before she completely melts down. “I don’t love Saoirse, Ana.”
“So what? You were going to marry her and have one of those loveless, rich people marriages and keep me as your mistress on the side? When were you going to tell me about that arrangement? Or was I never supposed to find out? What was going to be your excuse for moving me out of here into my own place, for not always being able to see me, for not being able to sleep over, for not—”
“Ana!” I cut in, my frustration rising as her voice does, glaring at her. “Ana, will you just give me one fucking second to explain, lass? There’s an explanation here if you’ll listen to it.”
“I don’t believe you—”
“I’m not going to marry her!” I almost shout it, staring at her as I try to rein in my own temper. “I’ve been fucking trying to get out of it since the minute I brought you back here, but it’s a delicate situation—”
“She said you got engaged before you came to find me! So what was she, the backup in case you couldn’t get me away from Alexandre? If I wouldn’t leave, or you couldn’t find me, you’d have her in your pocket to come back and marry?”
“No! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Ana, that’s not it at all. Just let me fucking explain—”
“Alexandre called me.” Ana tips her chin up defiantly, glaring at me. “He called me the morning before you left on yourbusiness trip, if that’s really what you were doing. Or were you off finding another side piece, some other damsel in distress to rescue—”
“I absolutely was fucking not—Alexandre?” I break off, realizing what she said. My heart lurches in my chest, thinking of him calling her, of her hearing his voice, of what feelings that might have brought up in her. And then for Saoirse to show up not long after—
“He called me. He wanted me to tell him where I was, but I—I hung up on him.” Ana looks at me, her eyes tearing up all over again. “I was so sure I wanted you. I had all these feelings, I felt so confused, but I couldn’t imagine leaving you. I thought he’d give up if I ignored him. And then Saoirse showed up, and I—”
