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How could all these facts about a woman I value as much as I value Wren have escaped my attention for so long?
As soon as the thought is through my head, an answer presents itself.
Under normal circumstances, however, I’d never share said answer with anyone else. But tonight, is different. Wren is different. I’ve hurt her and if revealing my vulnerable underbelly can make that better, I have to try.
“I haven’t been myself the past few years,” I say as she opens the door and steps inside. “Since the divorce.”
Setting the rifle in an umbrella stand in the corner, she turns back to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve known you for a long time, Barrett. Way before you and Lane were married or divorced.”
“But you only started working for me six years ago. “Before then, I only knew you as Melissa’s friend, and I left for college before you two were out of middle school. I didn’t have the time or opportunity to learn who you were back then, and Lane changed everything. At first, I was too infatuated with her to pay attention to anything else.”
I hesitate, not wanting to confess the rest of it, but if it might banish the disappointment from Wren’s face, I have to try. “Then, I was too busy trying, and failing, to make her happy and learning to live with the fact that maybe I’m not the type of man who can forge a successful romantic partnership.”
Wren tilts her head to one side, her expression softening. “Lane was one woman, Barrett.”
“One woman who knew me better than anyone else,” I say. “And who wasn’t impressed with what she uncovered.”
“That’s not true. You two just had nothing in common. Everything she loved, you hated, and vice versa. Anyone who knew you both could have told you making a relationship work was going to be an uphill climb.” She shrugs. “But you gave it your best shot and loved her as best you could. There’s nothing to be ashamed of about that. And no reason to think you can’t find love again with someone else.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “But I didn’t share those things to earn your sympathy. I just wanted to let you know the fact that I’ve missed things, overlooked them…it isn’t you. Truly. It’s me.”
Her lips curve. “Wow. From first kiss to the old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ breakup line in less than half an hour. This might be a world record.”
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” I say, my gaze fixing on her lips in spite of myself.
I should go, but for some reason, I step closer, until I’m hovering just outside her open door.
“Are you?” she whispers. “Really? Tell me the truth. I think you owe me that much after forcing me to shoot a very expensive sign I’ll have to pay to have replaced.”
“I’ll pay for the sign,” I murmur as she tilts her head back, granting me a heart-wrenching view down the front of her dress, proving just how much I’ve missed.
Wren isn’t just blessed with the sexiest ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of squeezing, even for a few seconds. She’s curvy in all the right places, places a part of me wants to worship with my mouth for as long as she’ll let me.
But that part is dangerous.
That part is the same part that fell head over heels for Lane in one long weekend and sent me down a road paved with heartbreak and ridiculously expensive lawyer fees. I can’t do that again, especially not with Wren. I need her too much. She’s the soul of my practice and…my friend.
I may have had my head in the sand for a few years when it comes to really seeing my head nurse, but I know how much I look forward to our end-of-the-day tea and shop talk. It’s a lifeline during hard conversations with patients in need of complicated care and often the best part of my day.
I’ve obviously failed at making my feelings for her clear, but I treasure Wren.
And you don’t put a treasure at risk over one impulsive, sleep-deprived kiss on a Friday night.
I’m about to lie to her—I respect her too much not to—when she reaches up, pressing a finger to my lips.
“If you lie, I’ll know,” she says softly. “And I’ll leave the practice. I can’t do this anymore, Barrett. I can’t spend every afternoon sipping tea with you and pretending I don’t want to be more than friends. I thought I could, but after that kiss…”
My heart lurching, I hear myself say, “You don’t want to be more than friends with me, Wren. Haven’t I proven that tonight? Everything I did was wrong.”
“Not everything,” she says as she reaches up, curling her fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me down for another kiss.
