AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Well.
Fuck.That.
“Get off me.” I shove at his shoulder. “And getoutof me.”
He jerks back, his eyes revealing an instant of hurt before he hides it behind a frown. “What?” His voice is low, a rough scrape against my senses.
“I can’t believe you proposed to me when you were still inside me.” I shove him off and roll to the edge of the bed, sitting up with my back to Sebastian.
How stupid am I?
He hasn’t changed at all. Yes, he came back for me. He made me a steak dinner—big whoop. Is that really how low my standards have sunk?
He supported me while I was working to open the gallery—but he’s still trying to control where I end up. He’s still trying to dictate my life onhisterms. He’s not trying to build me up, support me in whatIwant to do. I’m sosickof men taking and taking and taking from me. I’m sick of having to make myself fit intotheirworld. When do I get support? When do I get someone in my corner to cheer me on? When domydreams take precedence?
I grip the edge of the bed, shoulders hiked up near my ears.
“Georgia, wait.” The bed shifts. “What’s going on? You’re saying no?” He sounds incredulous. Because it’s so inconceivable that I wouldn’t want to end up cooking his dinners in his mother’s old kitchen. Give me a break.
Fury lends me strength, and I can’t keep the words back. “Of course I’m saying no!” I shout, whipping my head around to glare at him.
He rears back. “Oh, I’m not good enough for you? Is that it?”
“That issucha manipulative thing to say,” I hiss. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty when you’re the one who’s trying to steamroll my life. Again.”
He scoffs, eyes slightly bewildered. “Steamroll… I do not understand you, woman.”
“Oh, we’re back to calling me ‘woman.’ Great. I’d missed that.” I sound like a total bitch, but maybe it’s better that way. As Tina Fey once said, bitches get shit done. Bitches don’t get pushed around by sexy, overwhelming macho men who think they know everything.
I stand up and start hunting for my clothes. My stupid jeans are so freaking tight. I hop as I try to pull them up my thighs, my back to Sebastian. Where’s that blouse?
“Georgia, don’t you walk away from me again. You’re not doing this to me again.”
I whirl and point a finger at myself. “I’m doingexactlywhat is best forme, Sebastian. Just like I did back then.”
He jumps off the bed, buck naked, and plants his hands on his hips. “Would it be so terrible to be my wife? What is it, Georgia? I’m good enough to fuck, good enough to have chasing around like a damn dog, but I’m not good enough to marry?” He spreads his arms wide. “Tell me!”
“Yes,” I say. “It would be terrible to be your wife. I’d lose myself in you, and I’d never find my way out.” I pull on my second shoe and grab my purse, turning to face the irate, naked man beside the bed. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
Amazingly, I don’t cry. Not when I’m angrily walking the mile and a bit back to the gallery. Not when I’m getting on my scooter and driving home. Not when I’m opening the cabinet beside the refrigerator for a glass, and not when I’m uncorking a bottle of wine.
My eyes are dry, and I feel dead inside.
All these weeks, I thought Sebastian and I had something special. I thought our passion was worth the risk. I thought I’d found a man who wasn’t afraid to be with an ambitious, driven woman. He worked on my gallery, supported me, and I thought it meant he’d changed. I thought he understood me.
I was wrong.
Staring at the red liquid in my wine glass, fury winds through my core, tightening around me like a boa constrictor. My breathing becomes shallow. My heart starts to race. That two-faced, lyingbastard. How dare he make me feel like we had something special, only to pull the rug out from under me? Using my lust-addled brain as an excuse to propose to me, to lock me down, to make me shove aside all my dreams and plans?
And that ring—thatring. He kept the ring he used to propose to me for twenty-five years. Why? What does it mean?
The glass in my hands feels cool and heavy between my fingers. I stare at it for a moment, and something inside me snaps. I hurl the glass at the wall with a shriek. It explodes into shards of glass and a splatter of blood-red liquid all over my pristine white walls. I scream again, until my voice is hoarse, until I realize my cheeks are finally wet with tears.
35
SEBASTIAN
My puppy isthe one who saves me from a dark, downward spiral. Bella appears in the bedroom doorway when I’m sitting on the edge of the bed with nothing but jeans on and Georgia’s scent all over my skin. The dog comes bounding over to my feet and sits there looking forlorn until I pick her up.
