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“I’m not really the dating type.”
“Oh.” I nod in slow understanding. “You didn’t date, but you still…”
“I wasn’t celibate, if that’s what your eyebrows are insinuating.”
Obviously, a man like Misha isn’t a virgin. Still, a twinge of jealousy twists in my stomach. “So what did you do after the night was over? Kick them out of your bed?”
“They knew what they were getting into before they climbed into my bed in the first place,” he says unremorsefully. “I didn’t lie to any of those women. I wanted sex; I had no use for conversation. That didn’t stop a lot of them from trying to change my mind.”
I can’t help but wonder if he’s referring to our situation. Misha laid out clearly what our relationship would be: a business deal, nothing more. Now, here I am trying to change his mind.
Guess I’m just like the rest.
“They thought they could convince you that they were the exception?”
“They thought that if they could coax me into a conversation that I’d let them spend the night. And if they spent the night, maybe I’d ask them on another date. That second date might turn into a third and, eventually, I’d be so in love that I’d want to keep them around forever.”
“It never worked?”
A second ago, I was jealous of these unknown women. Now, I’m suddenly rooting for one of them to have left a mark on Misha. If even one woman made a lasting impression, maybe I have a chance.
“No. I know what I want. I’ve always been up front about that.”
Never mind.Whatever hope I was trying to drum up washes away in the face of Misha’s cold reality.
“That’s true,” I say softly. “Like when you told me that you could be a husband to me in name only. Yet I still convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, I could convince you to fall in love with me.”
I didn’t intend to say all that out loud. But there it is. I’m just like all the other women who have come before me.
He sighs. “Paige…”
“It was nice of you to do all this.” I fold my napkin and place it on the table. “You’ve been a true gentleman.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes.” I bob my head back and forth, trying and failing to keep the truth inside. “And no.”
He frowns. “Explain.”
I don’t want to get into this, but I’m powerless against his command. Even after everything, I want to give Misha whatever he wants.
“Tonight has been perfect. All of it. The food, the lights, the setting…”
“But?” he prods.
“But… you were forced into it.” I sigh. “It’s hard to enjoy when I know you’re only here because I made you.”
“I wasn’t forced into anything, Paige.”
I shake my head. “There’s no need to pretend, Misha. You’re right: you never lied to me. You told me exactly what you were willing and able to give me. I was the one who chose not to believe you. I convinced myself that if we had one more conversation or one more night together, if we slept together and it was more than just sex, maybe then I could convince you to take a real chance on this marriage.”
I’m a head-to-toe blush, but I press on. I might as well lay it all out there now.
“I was so mad at you before the explosion. I convinced myself that loving you was not worth it. Then I almost died, and I guess it… it made me want to embrace life. It made me want to live to the fullest, the way I promised Clara I always would.” I smile sadly. “The explosion meant something different for you, though. It made you realize how much you stood to lose if you let yourself care.”
He’s unnervingly silent as he stares at me, his expression reserved and unreadable.
“It’s funny, really. The timing. We never seem to be on the same page, do we? We keep zigging when the other one zags.” Misha still hasn’t moved, so I drain the last of my sparkling juice. “Dinner was wonderful, but I don’t think we should repeat it. No matter how strongly I feel, I can’t make you feel something you don’t. It will only hurt both of us more if I keep trying.”
