AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes.” But they both knew it was a lie.
“Sure. Just like you believe the ‘sob story’ of my childhood,” she muttered, and he had the decency to look, momentarily ashamed. “I don’t understand what the big deal is,” she said after a moment. “You’re used to one-night stands, and that’s all this was.”
Perhaps surprise kept him silent, because he stood there, staring at her, for several beats.
She pushed home her advantage, needing to get rid of him before she gave into her tears.
“And I’m exhausted,” she said, gesturing to the bed. It was an outright lie, but she didn’t care. “Would you excuse me?”
Consternation was writ large on his face. Her heart squeezed.
“We need to talk about this.”
“Why? To what end? It doesn’t change anything.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” She rubbed her upper arms, but it didn’t warm the ice cold of her heart. “You’re still the same guy who’s spent a month thinking the worst of me, berating me, accusing me, embarrassing me in public, who threw a cheque in my face and never stopped to wonder why I hadn’t cashed it,” She let that point sink in. “I tore it up, by the way, and threw it in the bin. It’s long gone.”
His eyes swept the room, almost as though he were looking for an anchor point.
“Sex is one thing, but do you really think I could ever forgive you for the way you treated me?” Her eyes slammed into his, the fierce anger flooring him. “This,” she pointed from herself to him, “was a one-time thing. An ending, not a beginning.”
He was uncharacteristically silent for several beats.
“I’d like to sleep now.”
“Phoebe—,”
“No.” She was angry and hurt, and shocked. “It’s over. There’s nothing else to say.”
He moved to the door, standing in the frame, his face tilted to look back at her. “You’re wrong. There’s plenty, but it will wait.”
He hadn’t slept at all after that, and he suspected she hadn’t either, if the bags under her eyes were anything to go by.
She was wearing the same outfit she’d been dressed in when she came onboard the yacht, her hair pulled into a ponytail, her features pinched, her eyes meeting his but totally shielded, so he couldn’t understand a single thing she was feeling.
“Good morning.”
She nodded crisply.
“Would you like a coffee?”
Her eyes flew to the machine, then back to his face, her fingers tightened on her old, battered handbag. She looked so vulnerable and at the same time, so courageous, that he ached to draw her closer and hug her, to hold her against his chest until—until what?
“I’d like to leave.”
He expelled a sigh. “But first,” he said quietly. “We should talk.”
“Not this again,” she said with disbelief and anger. “I don’t want to talk.”
“I owe you an apology.” The words were drawn from him slowly, achingly, and she flinched, because they hurt more than anything else.
“Don’t.” Her voice whipped around the room.
“I should have listened to you—,”
“But you didn’t. Not until you had proof. My words meant nothing to you.”
